Church History

… : for those who loved finery it was purple and a crown and things like them; for those devoted to letters, some fabulous poem or a composition able to charm; for those practised in war, to shoot an arrow true, to strike wild beasts, to hurl a spear, or to leap onto a horse. Each presented himself at the palace pursuing whatever happened to please the ruler: one brought a rare mosaic stone, another proposed a brighter dye of purple, another addressed a poem or a composition to him, another introduced some nimble and novel way of handling arms. It was thought the greatest and most kingly thing for the ruler of all to possess a single part of this popular excellence; but of piety, the true ornament of empire, no one took such account. You, most mighty Emperor Theodosius, to put it in a word, have through God practised every virtue. Wearing purple and a crown for those who look on, as a symbol of your rank, within you are always clothed with the true ornament of empire, piety and love of humankind. That is why poets and writers, and most of your officials and of your other subjects, labour on every occasion over you and your deeds. Presiding as judge of contests and of speeches, you are not robbed of accuracy by some clever voice and gesture, but you award the prize sincerely, looking for diction suited to the purpose of the writing, and for the form of the speech, its parts, order and harmony, its phrasing and composition, its arguments, its thought, and its history. You reward the speakers with your judgment and your applause, with golden images, with the setting up of statues, with gifts, and with honours of every kind. The Cretans of old were not such toward that celebrated Homer as you show yourself toward speakers, nor the Aleuadae toward Simonides, nor Dionysius the tyrant of Sicily toward Plato the companion of Socrates, nor Philip of Macedon toward Theopompus the historian, nor Severus the Caesar toward Oppian, who described in verse the kinds and nature of fishes and how they are caught. The Cretans rewarded Homer for his eloquence with a thousand coins and, boasting as if of an unsurpassable generosity, recorded the gift on a public pillar. The Aleuadae, Dionysius and Philip would not have been more close-fisted than the Cretans, who prided themselves on a modest and philosophic way of life; they would quickly have imitated their pillar, had they not lagged behind them in the gift. Severus gave Oppian a gold coin for every line of a modest poem, and so astonished people by his generosity that Oppian's verses are still called “golden” by most people. Such were the gifts of the lovers of learning and of letters of old. But you, O Emperor, have left no one who ever lived a way to surpass you in generosity toward letters; and you seem to me to do this not without reason. For, eager to surpass everyone in virtues, you increase your own, since you have mastered the history of what was achieved of old by Greeks and Romans. They say that by day you exercise your body in arms and arrange the affairs of your subjects, judging and writing what is needed and considering what must be done in private and in public; and by night you busy yourself with books. It is said that for the study of these you have a lamp which, by some device, pours the oil onto the wick by itself, so that none of those about the palace should be forced to toil at your labours and do violence to nature fighting against sleep. So humane and gentle are you toward those about you and toward all, imitating the heavenly King your protector, whose pleasure it is to send rain on the just and the unjust, to make the sun rise, and to give everything else ungrudgingly. Through your wide learning, as is natural, I hear that you know the natures of stones, the powers of roots, and the operations of remedies, no less than Solomon, the wisest son of David. Rather, you surpass him in virtues. For he became a slave of pleasures and did not keep piety to the end, though it had been the cause of the good gifts of wisdom to him. But you, most mighty, setting self-controlled reason against indulgence, rightly consider yourself emperor not only of men but also of the passions of soul and body. If I must say this too, I learn that you master the desire for every dish and drink, and that neither “sweet figs,” to speak poetically, nor any other fruit in season can take hold of you, beyond touching it and merely tasting it, after first blessing the Creator of all. Having accustomed yourself in your daily exercises to master thirst, heat and cold, you consider self-control your nature. Recently, eager to see the city in Pontus named after Heracles and to raise it up, worn as it was by time, you were travelling in summer along the road through Bithynia. When the sun was blazing fiercely about midday, one of your bodyguards, seeing you covered with sweat and dust, hastened to please you and brought you a cup gleaming brightly against the rays of the sun, into which he had put some sweet drink and poured cold water. You, most mighty, accepted it and praised the man for his eagerness, and it was plain that you would soon reward him handsomely with royal generosity; but while all the soldiers gaped at the cup and counted happy whoever would drink it, you, noble one, gave the drink back to him and told him to use it as he pleased. So it seems to me that Alexander son of Philip too has rightly been surpassed by your virtues. His admirers say that as he was marching through a waterless place with the Macedonians, a diligent soldier found water, drew some, and brought it to him; but he did not drink, and poured the drink out. To sum up, then, one may properly call you, in Homer's phrase, more kingly than the kings before you. For of some we have received that they possessed nothing worth admiring; of others, that they adorned their reign with one virtue or two at most. But you, most mighty, have gathered all the virtues together and surpassed everyone in piety, love of humankind, courage, moderation, justice, generosity, and greatness of soul befitting royal rank. Every age will boast that your rule alone, of all that ever were, is bloodless and pure of slaughter. You teach your subjects serious things with pleasure, so that they show zeal for you and for the common good out of goodwill and respect. So for every reason it seems necessary to me, as I write an Ecclesiastical History, to dedicate it to you. To whom could I do this more fittingly, when I am about to narrate the virtue of many godly men and what befell the catholic church, and how many enemies it met before it came into the harbours of you and your fathers? Therefore, you who know all things and have every virtue, and above all piety, which the divine word says is the beginning of wisdom, receive this writing from me. Examine it, bring to it the additions of your own accuracy, and purify it by your labours. For in whatever way it pleases you, in that way it will appear useful and bright to its readers, and no one will lay a finger on what you have approved. My writing proceeds from the third consulship of the Caesars Crispus and Constantine to your seventeenth. I thought it well to divide the whole work into nine parts. The first and second books will contain what befell the churches under Constantine; the third and fourth, under his sons; the fifth and sixth, under Julian, the cousin of the sons of the great Constantine, under Jovian, and further under Valentinian and Valens. The seventh and eighth books will show us what happened under the brothers Gratian and Valentinian, up to the proclamation of Theodosius, your godly grandfather, until your celebrated father Arcadius, most mighty Emperor, succeeded to his father's rule and was allotted the government of the Roman world together with your most pious uncle Honorius. The ninth book I have dedicated to your Christ-loving and most holy Majesty. May God always guard it in unshaken good cheer, triumphing over its enemies, with all under its feet, and handing on the pious empire to children's children, by the assent of Christ, through whom and with whom be glory to God the Father with the Holy Spirit for ever. Amen.

The thought once came to me: why was faith in God the Word received more readily by other people, while the Hebrews were slow to believe, even though from the beginning they had been taught to honour divine things and had learned through the prophets, before it happened, how the coming of Christ would be? Abraham, who became the founder of their race and of circumcision, was counted worthy to see the Son of God with his own eyes and to entertain him. Isaac his son was honoured by being a figure of the sacrifice of the cross, when he was brought bound by his father to the altar, as also happened to Christ in his passion, as those who study the sacred Scriptures closely say. Jacob foretold the expectation of the nations that now rests on him, and the time at which he came, when he said: “The rulers of the Hebrews shall fail from the race of Judah, the head of the tribe.” He was hinting at the rule of Herod, who was an Idumaean by race on his father's side and an Arabian on his mother's, and to whom the Jewish nation was entrusted by the Roman senate and Augustus Caesar. Of the other prophets, some proclaimed beforehand the birth of Christ, that unspeakable conception, a mother who remained a virgin after giving birth, and his race and his homeland; others his divine and wonderful deeds; others his passion, his resurrection from the dead, his ascent into heaven, and what came about at each. But if anyone does not know these things, it is not hard to learn them by reading the sacred books. Josephus too, son of Matthias, the priest, a man most renowned among both Jews and Romans, would be a credible witness to the truth about Christ. He hesitates to call him a man, as a doer of wonderful works and a teacher of true words; he names him openly as the Christ, and says that he was condemned to the cross and appeared alive on the third day. Nor is he unaware that countless other wonders about him had been foretold by the divine prophets. He testifies that the many Greeks and Jews whom he won over continued to love him, and that the tribe named after him has not died out. In recording this, it seems to me, he all but cries out, in keeping with the deeds, that Christ is God; but, struck with amazement at the wonderful matter, he passed over it somehow in a middle way, laying no blame on those who believed in him, but rather agreeing with them. As I reasoned on these things, it naturally seemed astonishing to me that the Hebrews had not been the first, before other people, to turn to Christianity. For even if the Sibyl and certain oracles foretold the future concerning what befell Christ, one cannot on that account charge all the Greeks with unbelief. Only a few, who were thought to excel in education, knew such prophecies, which were mostly in verse and expressed in language too lofty for the people. It was, it seems to me, a work of providence from above, for the harmony of what was to come, to sound the future not only through its own prophets but in part through foreign ones as well, as a musician who needs an unusual melody may run his plectrum over the spare strings, or add others to those already there. That the Hebrews, then, who had more and clearer prophecies of the coming of Christ, came behind the Greeks in faith in him, so much is enough to say. Yet even so it would not seem unreasonable that the church grew most of all through the other nations. First, because God likes to bring about unexpected changes in divine and very great matters; then, because one can find that the religion was ordered by no ordinary virtues in those who led it from the beginning. Even if they did not have a tongue sharpened for expression or beauty of diction, and did not persuade their hearers by words or geometrical demonstrations, the cause they laboured for did not fare worse on that account. Stripped of their possessions, neglecting their own families, impaled, enduring many harsh tortures as if in other people's bodies, neither won over by the flatteries of the people and magistrates in the cities nor terrified by their threats, they made it plain to all that they endured this contest for the greatest prizes. So there was no need of persuasive words, since the facts, without effort, compelled households and cities to believe what they had not heard before. When so great a divine and wonderful change came upon the world that people neglected even their former religion and their ancestral laws, it would be strange if the boar of Calydon and the bull of Marathon and other such things that happened, or are told in fables, in countries or cities, were thought worth so much attention that many of the most esteemed writers among the Greeks, with a natural gift for writing, laboured over them, while I should not force my nature and write an ecclesiastical history. For I am persuaded that, since the subject was not fashioned by men, it is not hard for God to make me appear, unexpectedly, as its writer. At first I set out to write this work from the beginning. But considering that others had attempted it down to their own times (Clement and Hegesippus, very wise men, who followed close upon the succession of the apostles; Africanus the writer; and Eusebius surnamed Pamphili, a man very learned in the divine Scriptures and in the poets and writers of the Greeks), I treated in an abridgement in two books what befell the churches, so far as it has come down to us, from the ascent of Christ into heaven to the overthrow of Licinius. Now, with God's help, I shall try to narrate what came after. I shall record events at which I was present, and those I heard of from people who knew or saw them, in our own generation and the one before us. Of things further back, I sought knowledge from the laws enacted concerning religion, from the synods held from time to time, from the innovations, and from the letters of emperors and bishops. Some of these are still preserved in the palace and the churches; others are scattered among the learned. I often thought of including their wording in my writing, but judged it better, because of the bulk of the work, to report their sense briefly, except where I find something disputed on which most people hold differing opinions. Then, if I have any document, I shall set it out as proof of the truth. And lest anyone, not knowing the facts, should condemn my work as false because he happens to read documents that contradict it, he should know this: on the pretext of the doctrines of Arius and of those that sprang up afterward, the leaders of the churches quarrelled with one another, and each party wrote to those of its own opinion about what it was pressing for. Meeting by themselves in synods, they voted as they wished and often condemned those of the opposite opinion in their absence. Courting the emperors of the time and the powerful men about them, they persuaded them as far as they had power and made them like-minded. And to show that they were thought to worship rightly, some attaching themselves to one party and some to the other, they made collections of the letters that supported their own sect and left out the contrary ones. This made it very difficult for us to discover what happened in these matters. But since the truth must be cared for above all, because history must be free of falsehood, it seemed necessary to me to search into such documents as far as I could. If, then, I also narrate the disputes of churchmen among themselves over precedence, or over preference for their own party, let no one think me vulgar or ill-intentioned for recording such things. For, first, as has been said, it befits the historian to put everything second to the truth; and second, the doctrine of the catholic church will appear all the more genuine, since it was often tested by the plots of those who held opposite views, and yet, as if by God's gift of victory, it returned again to its own strength and drew all the churches and peoples to its own truth. As I deliberated whether I ought to record only what I knew to have happened to the church within the Roman empire, it seemed good to me also to narrate, as far as I can reach, what befell religion among the Persians and the barbarians. Nor is it foreign to ecclesiastical history to narrate in this work who were, as it were, the fathers and founders of those called monks, and who after them, in succession, were renowned, so far as we know or have heard. We shall not seem ungrateful to them by consigning their virtue to oblivion, nor ignorant of their history; and at the same time we shall leave a pattern of conduct to those who wish to live the philosophic life in this way; by following it they will share in a most blessed and happy end. But the account, as it proceeds, will attend to these things as far as possible. I now turn to the narration of events, calling on God as a gracious helper. The present writing will begin from here.

In the consulship of the Caesars Crispus and Constantine, Silvester led the church of Rome, Alexander that of the Alexandrians, and Macarius that of Jerusalem. At Antioch on the Orontes no one had yet been entrusted with the church after Romanus, since the persecutions, it seems, did not allow the ordination to take place. Not long afterward those who met at Nicaea, admiring the life and words of Eustathius, judged him worthy to lead the apostolic see, and transferred him, who was bishop of neighbouring Beroea, to Antioch. Of the Christians, those in the East as far as the Libyans who border on the Egyptians did not then dare to assemble openly, because Licinius had changed his goodwill toward them; but those in the West, Greeks, Macedonians and Illyrians, worshipped without fear because of Constantine, who ruled the Romans there.

We have received that many other things befell him by which he was persuaded to honour the doctrine of the Christians, but above all the divine sign that appeared to him. When he had resolved to make war on Maxentius, he was naturally at a loss within himself how the battle would turn out and who would be his helper. While he was in these anxieties, he saw in a dream the sign of the cross shining in the sky. As he gazed in amazement at the sight, divine angels stood by him and said: “Constantine, conquer by this.” It is said that Christ himself also appeared to him, showed him the symbol of the cross, and commanded him to make a likeness of it and to have it in his wars as a helper and a bringer of victory. Eusebius son of Pamphilus, however, affirms that he heard the emperor himself say on oath that about midday, when the sun had already begun to decline, he and the soldiers with him saw in the sky a trophy of the cross formed of light, with an inscription joined to it which said, “Conquer by this.” For this wonder happened as he was marching somewhere with the army, on the road. While he was considering what it might be, night came on; and as he slept Christ appeared to him with the sign that had appeared in the sky, and commanded him to make a likeness of it and to use it as a safeguard in his battles against the enemy. Since there was no further need of an interpreter, but it had been shown to the emperor plainly what he must believe about God, at daybreak he called together the priests of Christ and asked about their doctrine. They brought out the sacred books, explained what concerns Christ, and showed from the prophets that the prediction of these things had been clear before they happened. The sign that had appeared to him, they said, was the symbol of the victory over Hades which Christ won when he came among men, by being crucified, dying, and coming back to life on the third day. On this ground, they said, they hope that after departing from life here, at the end of the present age, all people will rise and will be immortal: some to receive rewards for the good lives they lived in this world, others punishments for the evil they did. Yet for sins committed here there is a means of salvation and a cleansing from sins: for the uninitiated, initiation according to the law of the church; for the initiated, not to sin again. But since this is achieved by very few and godly men, they taught that a second cleansing has been appointed, that of repentance. For God, being a lover of humankind, grants pardon to those who have fallen, if they repent and confirm their repentance by good works.

While the priests were explaining such things, the emperor, marvelling at the prophecies about Christ, ordered skilled craftsmen to remake into the symbol of the cross, with gold and precious stones, what the Romans call the Labarum. This was a military standard, more honoured than the others, since it was the custom for it always to go before the emperor and to be reverenced by the soldiers. I think that Constantine [was] most [eager] to change this most distinguished symbol of Roman rule into the sign of Christ, so that by seeing and honouring it constantly his subjects would be weaned from their ancestral customs and would hold as God only the one whom the emperor also worshipped and used as leader and ally against his enemies. This sign was always carried before his own troops, and he ordered it to be present with the hard-pressed lines in battle. He appointed picked men of his bodyguard to attend to it, whose task was to carry the standard on their shoulders in turn and to go round the ranks of the enemy. It is said that once, when the enemy suddenly charged, the man carrying it took fright, handed it to another, and slipped away from the battle; and when he was already out of range of the missiles he was suddenly struck and fell mortally wounded. But the man who had taken the divine symbol remained unhurt, though many shot at him. In some wonderful way, as if directed by divine power, the enemy's missiles stuck fast in the standard and flew away from the bearer, though he was in the midst of the danger. It is said, too, that no other man who served this standard ever met with misfortune, as a soldier naturally might in war, or was wounded or taken prisoner.

… that Constantine, having killed some of his nearest kin and having had a part in the death of his own son Crispus, repented and consulted about a cleansing Sopater the philosopher, who at that time headed the school of Plotinus; that Sopater declared there was no cleansing for such crimes; and that the emperor, distressed at this refusal, met bishops who promised to cleanse him of every sin by repentance and baptism; that he was pleased with what they had said to his purpose, admired the doctrine, became a Christian, and led his subjects to it. To me it seems that this was invented by those who are eager to slander the Christian religion. For Crispus, on whose account they say Constantine needed a cleansing, died in the twentieth year of his father's reign; while he lived he enacted many laws with him in favour of the Christians, being honoured with the second rank in the empire as Caesar, as the dates attached to the laws and the titles of the lawgivers bear witness to this day. As for Sopater, first, it is not likely that he came into conversation with Constantine while Constantine ruled only the part of the empire toward the Ocean and the Rhine. For when Constantine was in Italy because of his quarrel with Maxentius, the Roman state was in turmoil, and it was not easy then to travel to the Gauls, the Britons and those who live there; yet it is agreed that it was among them that Constantine embraced the Christian religion, before he marched against Maxentius and came to Rome and the Italians. Again the dates and the laws he enacted in favour of the religion bear witness to this. And even if we were to grant easily that the emperor met Sopater in some way, or asked him by letter about what he wished to know, it is surely not credible that the philosopher did not know that Heracles son of Alcmene was cleansed at Athens by the mysteries of Demeter after the killing of his children, and after the murder of Iphitus, whom he had unjustly killed though he was his guest and friend. That the Greeks promised cleansings for such crimes, then, what has been said is enough; and it convicts of falsehood those who invented the story that Sopater declared the contrary. For I would not say that the man who was then the most distinguished among the Greeks for learning did not know these things.

The churches in the region ruled by Constantine fared as they wished and grew daily, enjoying the benefits of a well-disposed and like-minded emperor. Even before this, the Divine had kept them free of persecution and trouble. For while the churches throughout the rest of the world were persecuted, Constantius alone, Constantine's father, allowed the Christians to worship without fear. I know that he did this remarkable thing, worth recording. Wishing to test which of the Christians in the palace were good and upright men, he called them all together and announced that if they chose to sacrifice and worship as he did, they might remain about him and keep their rank; but if they refused, they must leave the palace, grateful that they had not also incurred punishment. When they had divided on either side, some betraying their religion, others preferring divine things to their present advantages, he decided to keep as friends and counsellors those who had remained faithful to the better cause; the others he turned away from as unmanly knaves and drove from his company, reckoning that those who had so readily become traitors to God would never be loyal to the emperor. For this reason, naturally, while Constantius was still alive it was not thought unlawful to be a Christian among the peoples beyond Italy, the Gauls and the Britons and those who live about the Pyrenees as far as the western Ocean. When Constantine succeeded to the same rule, the affairs of the church became more conspicuous. For when Maxentius son of Herculius had been slain and his share of the empire had fallen to Constantine, those who lived by the river Tiber worshipped without fear, and by the Eridanus, which the inhabitants call the Padus, and by the Aquilis, down which, it is said, the Argo was hauled and brought safe to the Tyrrhenian sea. For the Argonauts, fleeing from Aeetes, did not make the same voyage on their return. They crossed the sea beyond the Scythians, came by way of the rivers there to the borders of Italy, wintered there, and built a city called Emona. When summer came, with the help of the inhabitants, they dragged the Argo overland by machines for about four hundred stades and brought it to the river Aquilis, which flows into the Eridanus; and the Eridanus empties into the sea of Italy. After the battle at Cibalae the Dardanians and Macedonians, those who live by the Ister, the so-called Hellas, and the whole Illyrian nation came under Constantine.

After his defeat there Licinius, who had formerly favoured the Christians, changed his mind, and at that time ill-treated many of the priests in his own dominion, and many others too, especially among the soldiers. He hated the Christians intensely because of his quarrel with Constantine, thinking that he would grieve him by the misfortunes of the religion, and at the same time supposing that the churches prayed and strove to be ruled by Constantine alone. Besides this, as often happens, when he was about to go to battle again with Constantine he made provision for the expected war by sacrifices and divinations, and, led on by some who promised him victory, he turned to paganism. The pagans themselves say that he then consulted the oracle of Didymaean Apollo at Miletus, and that when he asked about the war the demon answered him with these lines of Homer: “Old man, truly the young warriors [press] you [hard]; your strength [is spent, and hard] old age [attends] you.” Among many other things, it has seemed to me that the doctrine of the Christians was established by the providence of God and came to so great an increase not least from what happened then. For just when Licinius was about to persecute all the churches under him, the war in Bithynia broke out, the last war that he and Constantine fought against each other. Constantine had such divine help that he overcame his opponents by land and sea; and Licinius, having lost his infantry and his fleet, surrendered himself at Nicomedia, lived for some time as a private man at Thessalonica, and was put to death there. So ended a man who in the first part of his reign had been very highly esteemed in war and in other respects, and had been honoured with marriage to Constantine's sister.

When the whole Roman empire had come round to Constantine alone, he proclaimed by a public decree to his subjects in the East that they should honour the Christian religion and serve the Divine diligently, and should regard as divine only that which truly is and has power that endures for all time. For those who are zealous for it, all good things are wont to come in abundance, and whatever they undertake meets with good hopes; but for those who fail toward the better cause, all things turn out ill, in public and in private, in war and in peace. Acknowledging his gratitude, not boasting, he affirms that God, judging him a fit servant of his will, led him forward from the sea by Britain to the eastern lands, so that the religion of the Christians might grow, and that those who had remained steadfast for the service of God in confessions and martyrdoms might be shown more illustrious by honours. Having proclaimed this and gone through countless other matters by which he thought to bring his subjects to the religion, he decreed that whatever had been decided or done against the religion under the persecutors of the church should be void. He enacted that all should be released who for confessing Christ had been condemned to be deported, to live against their will on islands or elsewhere, to labour in mines or public works, or to serve in the women's quarters or the linen factories, or to be enrolled in the town councils when they had not been councillors before. Those who had been deprived of civil rights he freed from the deprivation. Those who had been stripped of some military rank he allowed, as they chose, either to hold the rank they had had or to enjoy freedom with an honourable discharge. And when he had restored them all to their former freedom and their customary honours, he also gave back their property. If any condemned to death had been deprived of their goods, he ordered that the inheritance should pass to their nearest kin; if there were none, the local church in each place was to inherit; and whether a private person or the treasury held anything from such property, it was to be returned. For those who had bought from the treasury or received a grant, he promised to provide in a possible and fitting way. These things, as has been said, the emperor decided and confirmed by law, and they were carried out without delay. Christians for the most part administered the offices of Roman government; and henceforth all were forbidden to sacrifice, to use divinations and initiations, to set up images, or to celebrate pagan festivals. Many of the ancient customs in the cities were changed. Among the Egyptians, for example, the cubit by which the rise of the waters of the Nile is marked is no longer brought to the pagan temples as before, but from that time to the churches. Among the Romans the spectacle of gladiators was then forbidden for the first time. Among the Phoenicians who live in Lebanon and Heliopolis it was no longer lawful for virgins to be prostituted before they came together with the men with whom they were accustomed to live in lawful marriage after the first experience of the unlawful union. Of the houses of prayer, those that were large enough were repaired; others were splendidly enlarged in height and breadth; and where there had been none at all, they were built from the foundations. The emperor supplied the money from the royal treasuries, having written to the bishops in each city and to the governors of the provinces, the former to direct what they wished, the latter to obey and serve the priests diligently. As his rule prospered, religion grew with it. After the war with Licinius he was so successful against foreign peoples that he subdued the Sarmatians and those called Goths, and in the end made a treaty with them as a favour. This people lived beyond the river Ister; very warlike, great in numbers and in size of body, always prepared in arms, it overcame the other barbarians and had the Romans alone as rivals. It is said that in this war too it was shown to Constantine by signs and dreams how great a providence watched over him from God. Having prevailed in all the wars that befell him, as if vying in generosity with Christ, he repaid him with zeal for the religion, urging his subjects to honour it alone and to hold it the way of salvation. From the taxable land of each city he set apart a fixed portion of the public revenue and assigned it to the local churches and clergy, and enacted that the grant should be valid for all time. Accustoming the soldiers to worship God as he did, he marked their arms with the symbol of the cross. He built a house of prayer in the palace, and when he marched against enemies he carried with him a tent shaped like a church, so that neither he nor the army, even in the desert, should lack a sacred house in which to sing praise to God, pray, and share in the mysteries. Priests and deacons accompanied him, attending the tent and fulfilling the order of these things according to the law of the church. From that time each of the Roman legions, which they now call numeri, provided itself with its own tent and had priests and deacons assigned to it. He enacted that on the day called the Lord's day, which the Hebrews call the first of the week and the Greeks dedicate to the sun, and on the day before the seventh, all should rest from the courts and from other business and serve the Divine with prayers and supplications. He honoured the Lord's day because on it Christ rose from the dead, and the other because on it he was crucified. For he had very great reverence for the divine cross, both because of the help it had given him in his battles against his enemies and because of the divine sign concerning it that had been shown to him. For example, he abolished by law the punishment of the cross, which had formerly been customary among the Romans, from the use of the courts. He ordered that this divine symbol should always be inscribed and stamped on coins and on painted images of himself; and his images in this form still bear witness to it. In all things, but above all in his laws, he was zealous to serve the Divine. He is seen, for instance, to have reformed licentious and dissolute unions that had not been forbidden before, as one can see from the laws enacted on these matters, if anyone cares to. For it does not seem to me the right time now to do this completely. But it is necessary, besides what has been said, to go through what was enacted for the honour and establishment of the religion, since it is part of ecclesiastical history. I shall begin from here.

The Romans had an old law which forbade those who were unmarried from the age of twenty-five to receive the same privileges as those who were not, both in many other respects and in that they could gain nothing by a will from those who were not their nearest kin; and it penalized the childless by half of what was left to them. The Romans of old enacted it thinking that Rome and its subjects would thus become populous, since not long before the law they had lost many lives in civil wars. The emperor, then, seeing that on this account those who practised virginity and childlessness for God's sake fared worse, thought it foolish to suppose that the human race could be increased by human care and effort, since nature always receives both decrease and increase according to the measure from above. He issued a law to the people that the unmarried and childless should enjoy all the same rights equally with others; and he even enacted that those who lived in continence and virginity should have more, that their decision should be valid and stronger than that of others, giving them, men and women alike, and even those under age, permission to make a will, contrary to what generally prevailed in the Roman state. For he thought that those whose work was always to serve the Divine and to practise philosophy would decide well about everything. For this reason the Romans of old too had enacted that the Vestal virgins might make wills freely, even at six years of age. This too is a very great proof of the emperor's reverence for religion: by enacting a law he made the clergy everywhere exempt from taxes; he allowed litigants to appeal to the judgment of the bishops if they wished to decline the civil magistrates; their verdict was to be binding on the judges, as if it had been issued by the emperor; the magistrates and the soldiers serving them were to carry out what was decided; and the definitions of synods were to be unalterable. Having come to this point in my writing, it is right not to pass over what was enacted for the benefit of those freed in the churches. Because of the strictness of the laws, and the unwillingness of owners, there was great difficulty in obtaining the better freedom which the Romans call citizenship; so he enacted three laws, decreeing that all who were freed in the churches with the priests as witnesses should obtain Roman citizenship. Time still bears proof of this pious device to this day, for the custom prevails of writing the laws on this subject at the head of the deeds of manumission. Such were the laws Constantine enacted, and in every way he was zealous to honour the religion. It was also illustrious in itself, because of the virtue of those who then practised it.

For there were then many other good Christians, and, since the persecutions had only lately ceased, very many of the confessors were still alive and gave dignity to the churches: such as Hosius, bishop of Cordova; Amphion of Epiphania in Cilicia; Maximus, who was entrusted with the church of Jerusalem after Macarius; and Paphnutius from Egypt, through whom, they say, the Divine worked very many wonders, granting him power over demons and the healing of various diseases. This Paphnutius and the Maximus already mentioned were among those confessors whom Maximinus condemned to work in the mines, after cutting out their right eyes and severing the tendons of their left knees.

We have received that Spyridon, bishop of Trimythus in Cyprus, also lived in their time. To show his virtue, I think the fame that still prevails about him is enough. Of the things that were done through him with divine help, the inhabitants naturally know most; but I shall not hide what has come to us. He was a countryman, with a wife and children, but not on that account worse in divine things. They say that once some wicked men came by night to the fold of his sheep, and as they tried to steal them they were suddenly bound, though no one had bound them. At daybreak he came and found them fettered, and he loosed them from their invisible bonds; but he rebuked them because, when they could have asked and received what they wanted, they had chosen rather to steal and to toil so much by night. Yet he took pity on them, or rather taught them to change to a better life, and said: “Go, and take this ram with you; you are worn out from staying awake, and you must not leave my fold with nothing to show for your labours.” One might rightly marvel at this, and no less at the following. One of his acquaintances entrusted something to his daughter, a virgin named Irene, and she took it and buried it in the house, so that it might be carefully kept. It happened that the girl died without saying anything, and the man came demanding his deposit. Spyridon did not know what he meant, but searched the house nonetheless and did not find it; the man wept and tore his hair and was plainly ready to die. Moved to pity, Spyridon went to the tomb and called the girl by name. When she answered, he asked about the deposit; when he had learned, he went back, found it where she had indicated, and gave it back to the man. Since I have been led to this point in the account, it is not out of place to add this as well. It was Spyridon's custom to distribute some of the produce he gathered to the poor and to lend some without interest to whoever wished. He neither gave out nor received anything with his own hands; he would only point out the storeroom and let those who came take as much as they needed, and pay back again as much as they knew they had taken. A man who had borrowed in this way came to pay it back. Allowed, as was the custom, to return what he had borrowed to the storeroom by himself, he set his mind on wrongdoing; and thinking he was unobserved, he did not pay the debt, but kept back the repayment of what he owed and went away as if he had paid. But it was not to remain hidden for long. Some time later he again asked to borrow. Spyridon sent him to the storeroom, giving him leave to measure out for himself as much as he wanted. Seeing the room empty, he told Spyridon. Spyridon said to him: “It is surprising, man, how the storeroom seems to have run short of provisions for you alone. Consider within yourself whether you used it before and did not pay back what you took first. If this is not the case, you will certainly not fail to get what you need. Go again with confidence, and you will find it.” So the man was caught out and confessed his sin. It is worth marvelling also at the gravity of this godly man and his exactness about church order. It is said that some time later the bishops of Cyprus met together for some need, and with them were this Spyridon and Triphyllius, bishop of Ledra, a man of distinction in general, who had spent a long time in the city of Berytus for the study of law. At an assembly Triphyllius was asked to teach the people; and when he had to bring forward the saying, “Take up your bed and walk,” he changed the word and said “couch” instead of “bed.” Spyridon was indignant and said: “Are you better than the one who said ‘bed,’ that you are ashamed to use his words?” With these words he sprang from the bishop's throne in sight of the people, teaching in this way the man who was proud of his eloquence to be modest. For he was able to put him to shame, being venerable and most renowned for his deeds, and at the same time older both in age and in the priesthood. How he was disposed toward the entertaining of strangers may be known from this. When Lent had already begun, someone came to him from a journey, on the days in which he was accustomed to keep the fast continuously with his household and to taste food only on a set day, remaining without food on the days between. Seeing the stranger very weary, he said to his daughter: “Come, wash the man's feet and set food before him.” When the girl said there was neither bread nor barley meal, for it was needless to have these ready because of the fast, he first prayed and asked pardon, and then ordered his daughter to boil some salted pork that happened to be in the house. When it was cooked, he seated the stranger with him, set the meat before him and began to eat, and urged the man to do as he did. When he refused, saying that he was a Christian, Spyridon said: “All the more reason not to refuse; for the divine Word has declared, ‘To the pure all things are pure.’” So much about Spyridon.

Not least, those who then followed the monastic way of life made the church most illustrious and upheld its doctrine by the virtues of their lives. This kind of philosophy, a most useful thing that came to men from God, neglects many studies and the technicalities of dialectic as superfluous, since they take away leisure from better things and contribute nothing to living rightly. By a natural, unaffected wisdom alone it teaches what entirely destroys evil or lessens it. It places among good things nothing that lies between vice and virtue, and delights only in what is noble. It counts as worthless the man who abstains from evil but does not do good; for it does not display virtue but practises it, making no account of glory among men. Resisting the passions of the soul very bravely, it neither yields to the necessities of nature nor gives way to the weaknesses of the body. Possessing the power of a divine mind, it always looks to the Creator of all, worships him night and day, and propitiates him with prayers and supplications. Coming to holy worship by purity of soul and a life of good deeds, it disregards purifications, sprinklings and the like; for it holds that sins alone are defilements. Being superior to what befalls from outside and, so to speak, master of all things, it is not moved from its purpose by the disorder or necessity that holds life in its grip; it is not grieved when insulted nor does it retaliate when ill-treated; nor, when pressed by disease or lack of necessaries, does it lose heart. Rather it takes pride in these, practising gentleness and the need of little throughout life, and coming as near to God as human nature can. Using the present life as if in passing, it is not distressed with business about acquiring property, nor does it provide for present things beyond pressing need; always praising the simplicity and lightness of equipment here, it awaits the blessedness that is from there and is always intent on its happy lot. Breathing constant reverence toward the Divine, it turns from the unpleasantness of foul speech, not tolerating even in word the things whose deeds it has banished from its own way of life. Reducing the needs of nature to little and compelling the body to need only what is moderate, by self-control it [masters] licentiousness, by justice it punishes injustice, by truth falsehood, and by good order it attains due measure in all things. It establishes its life in concord and fellowship with its neighbours; it provides for friends and strangers, makes its own goods common to those in need, and helps each as is fitting, neither troubling the joyful nor failing to comfort the grieving. Altogether eager, and directing its care to what is truly good, it teaches with sober words and wise thoughts that have no part in ornament or slander, and heals its hearers as with medicines, holding its conversations with honour and respect, free from strife, mockery and anger. Being rational, it rejects every irrational impulse and masters once for all the passions of body and soul. This most excellent philosophy was begun, as some say, by Elijah the prophet and John the Baptist. Philo the Pythagorean relates that in his time the best of the Hebrews from every quarter practised philosophy on a certain estate lying on a low hill above Lake Mareotis. He presents their dwelling, diet and manner of life as being such as we now see lived among the monks of Egypt. He writes that when they began to practise philosophy they gave up their possessions to their relatives, and renouncing business and society, lived outside the walls in solitary fields and gardens; that they had sacred houses called monasteries, in which they performed solemn mysteries in solitude; that they served the Divine diligently with psalms and hymns; that they tasted no food before sunset, and some only every three days or more; that on certain days they lay on the ground, and abstained altogether from wine and from meat; that their food was bread, salt and hyssop, and their drink water; and that women lived among them, elderly virgins, who practised the unmarried life of their own free will out of love of philosophy. In relating this, Philo seems to point to those of his time who had become Christians from among the Hebrews, still living in a more Jewish way and keeping their customs; for this manner of life is not found among any others. From this I infer that this philosophy has flourished among the Egyptians since that time. Others say that the persecutions which befell the religion from time to time gave rise to it; for when people fled and spent their time in mountains, deserts and ravines, they became accustomed to this life.

But whether Egyptians or some others first led this philosophy, this at least is agreed by all, that Antony the great monk brought this way of life to the height of exactness and perfection by his conduct and fitting exercises. As he was then distinguished in the deserts of Egypt, the emperor Constantine, because of the fame of the man's virtue, made him his friend, honoured him with letters, and urged him to write about whatever he needed. He was an Egyptian by race, of a noble family, from Coma; this village lies near Heraclea in Egypt. Left an orphan as a youth, he gave his ancestral fields to the villagers; he sold the rest of his property and distributed the price to the poor. For he saw that it belongs to an earnest philosopher not only to strip himself of money but also to spend it as he ought. He associated with the earnest men of his time and emulated the virtues of all of them. Judging that the good life, though hard at first, would become pleasant by habit, he devised ways of stricter discipline and advanced daily in self-control; and as if always beginning, he renewed his eagerness, chastising pleasures by the hardships of the body and opposing the passions of the soul with a purpose wise in God. His food was bread alone, and salt; his drink water; and his time for dinner sunset. He often remained without food for two days or more. He kept vigil, so to speak, always through whole nights, and was still praying when day came on; and if he tasted sleep at all, he slept for a moment on a mat. Mostly he lay on the ground, and made the bare earth his bed. He refused anointing with oil, the use of baths and the like, on the ground that moisture changes the firmness of the body into slackness. They say that he never saw himself naked. He neither knew letters nor admired them, but praised a good mind as older than letters and as their inventor. He was exceedingly gentle, most kind, sensible and courageous, gracious to those who met him and inoffensive to those with whom he conversed, even if they argued contentiously; for by his own character and a certain skill he wisely calmed growing rivalry and brought it to moderation, tempered the vehemence of those who talked with him, and set their manners in order. Though through so many virtues he had become full of divine foreknowledge, he did not consider it a virtue to foresee the future, and so he advised others not to labour vainly after it, declaring that one who does not know what is to come will not be called to account for it, and one who knows it will not on that account be enviable. True blessedness, he said, lies in worshipping God and keeping his laws. “But if anyone cares about this,” he said, “let him keep his soul pure”; for this can make it clear-sighted and knowing of what is to come, when God reveals the future beforehand. He would not endure being idle himself, and he urged anyone who meant to live well to work, to examine himself and give account of what he had done by night and by day; and if he had done anything he should not, to write it down, so that thereafter he might keep from sins, ashamed of himself if he found much written, and fearing that if his record were found he would be shown to others to be wicked. Moreover, he was extraordinarily zealous, if anyone ever was, in defending those who were wronged, and for their sake he often went into the cities. For many came to him lamenting and pressed him to plead for them with the magistrates and those in authority. Each of these would have paid much to see him, to hear him speak, and to obey his commands, since, great as he was, he was eager to be unknown and to lie hidden in the deserts. If he was ever compelled to come into a city to help those in need, as soon as he had settled the business for which he had come, he went straight back to the desert. For he said that as the water nourishes fishes, so the desert gives monks their ornament; and that as fishes that touch dry land lose their life, so monks who approach the towns lose their monastic dignity. Showing himself persuasive and gracious to those who saw him, he took care neither to have a disdainful nature nor to seem to have one. I have been led to tell these few of Antony's ways of life so that, using what has been said as examples, we may estimate the philosophy of the man. He had very many and very renowned disciples, some of whom were distinguished in Egypt and Libya, others in Palestine, Syria and Arabia. Each of them, no less than his teacher, lived and conducted himself among those with whom he dwelt, taught many, and led them to a like virtue and philosophy. So it would be a task to go round the cities and countries carefully seeking out the companions of Antony or their successors. How could it be easy to find those who were more careful to remain hidden in life than many people now, puffed up with ambition, are to parade themselves and make themselves known? Among the disciples of Antony of whom we have received an account, the most renowned were, among many others whom we shall record in their proper time, Paul, surnamed the Simple. They say that he was a countryman married to a woman of beautiful appearance; that he caught her in the act of adultery, laughed quietly, and swore an oath that he would no longer live with her; and that saying to the adulterer, “Keep her,” he went straight to Antony in the desert. This man is said to have been very gentle and exceedingly patient. Although he was old and unused to monastic hardship, being still a newcomer, Antony put him to every kind of test and found him ignoble in nothing. Bearing witness to his perfect philosophy, he allowed him to live by himself, as one who needed no teacher. God too confirmed Antony's testimony and by his works showed the man to be most renowned, and stronger even than his teacher in tormenting and driving out demons.

About this time Amun the Egyptian also practised philosophy. It is said that his family compelled him to marry, but that he did not have relations with his wife in the way lawful for husbands. When their marriage began and, as a bridegroom, he had taken her, his bride, into the chamber and was alone with her, he said: “Wife, this marriage of ours has been carried thus far, and no further.” He explained to her from the sacred Scriptures what a great good it is to be able to remain a virgin, and tried to live on his own. Although his wife approved of what he said about virginity, she took it hard to be separated from him; so for eighteen years he lived with her, sleeping apart, not neglecting monastic discipline even so. In that time his wife came to emulate her husband's virtue and reasoned that it was not right for so great a man to be hidden at home because of her, but that each of them should live apart and practise philosophy; and she asked her husband to do this. He gave thanks to God for what his wife had resolved and said: “You keep this house; I shall make another for myself.” He took a deserted place south of Lake Mareotis, near Scetis and what is called the mountain of Nitria, and practised philosophy there for twenty-two years, seeing his wife twice each year. This godly man became the founder of the monasteries there, and he had many notable disciples, as the successions will show. Many wonders befell him, which have been most carefully recorded by the monks of Egypt, who take great pains to remember accurately, by an unwritten tradition handed down, the virtues of the older ascetics. I shall tell those that have come to us. He and his disciple Theodore once had to cross a canal which they call the Lycus, as they were going somewhere. So that they should not see each other naked, Amun told Theodore to withdraw. And as he was ashamed to see even himself naked, he was suddenly lifted up by divine power and carried across to the opposite bank. Theodore crossed the water, and seeing that Amun's clothes and feet were not wet, he begged the old man to tell him the reason. Amun refused to tell; but Theodore insisted that he would not leave off unless he learned, and when Theodore had agreed to tell no one while Amun lived, he confessed the [wonder]. This too is like it as a marvel. Some parents who were wrongdoers brought to him their own child, who had been bitten by a mad dog and was expected to die at any moment, and with laments begged him to heal their son. He said to them: “He has no need of healing from me; but if you are willing to give back the ox you have stolen to its owners, he will be healed at once.” And when the ox was returned, the affliction left the child. When this Amun died, Antony is said to have seen his soul being carried up to heaven, with divine Powers leading it with psalm-singing. When those about him asked the reason of his wonder, he did not hide it; for he was plainly gazing intently into the air, astonished at the sight of the wonderful marvel. When afterward some people came from Scetis and reported the hour of Amun's death, the truth of Antony's prediction was shown. And they called both blessed: the one for departing from life here with acknowledged goods, the other for being counted worthy of so great a sight, which God showed him from so far away; for the distance between the places where each of them lived is a journey of many days. These things are related by those who associated with Antony and Amun. In this reign I learned that Eutychian too practised philosophy with distinction; he lived in Bithynia near Olympus. Though he belonged to the sect of the Novatians, he shared in divine grace through healings of diseases and wonderful deeds, so that because of the virtue of his life he was an intimate and friend of Constantine himself. At that time, for instance, one of the bodyguards was in prison; he had fled because he was suspected of plotting to seize power, and had been sought out near Olympus and arrested. His friends begged Eutychian to plead for him with the emperor, and first to see that the man was released from his chains, lest, bound so harshly, he should die before anything could be done. It is said that Eutychian sent to the jailers and asked them to release him; when they did not comply, he went to the prison, and the doors, which were locked, opened of themselves, and the prisoner's chains fell away. After this he went to the emperor, who was then staying at Byzantium, and readily obtained the favour; for Constantine was not accustomed to be displeased at his requests, since he held the man in very great honour. Let this be our brief account of those who then practised philosophy brilliantly among the monks. Anyone who cares about exactness on these matters would find, if he searched, that the lives of most of them have been written down.

But although religion was thus thriving in all other respects, certain contentious disputes troubled the churches, which, on the pretext of piety and of a perfect discovery of God, brought into question things that had not been examined before. Arius, a presbyter of Alexandria in Egypt, began these debates. At first he was thought to be zealous for the doctrine, and he took part with Melitius in his innovations; but he left him and was ordained deacon by Peter, bishop of Alexandria. He was again expelled from the church by him, because when Peter excommunicated the followers of Melitius and would not accept their baptism, Arius censured what was done and would not keep quiet. After Peter was martyred, Arius asked pardon of Achillas, was allowed to serve as deacon, and was made a presbyter. Later Alexander too held him in honour. Being very skilled in dialectic, for he was said not to lack such learning, he rolled down into strange arguments, so that he dared to declare in the church what no one had said before: that the Son of God was made from nothing, that there was once when he was not, that by free will he is capable of vice and virtue, and that he is a creature and a thing made, and many other things that one who holds these views is likely to say when he goes on into debates and detailed inquiries. Some people took hold of what was said and blamed Alexander for not opposing innovations against the doctrine as he should. He, thinking it better to set out argument on both sides about the doubtful matters, so that he might seem to end their strife by persuasion and not by force, sat as judge with members of the clergy and brought both parties into debate. As usually happens in contests of words, each side tried to win. Arius maintained what he had said; the others maintained that the Son is of the same essence as the Father and co-eternal with him. When the council met again and they had raised so many arguments, they did not agree. While the question still seemed undecided, Alexander himself was at first in some way affected, praising now one side and now the other. In the end he sided with those who declared the Son to be of the same essence and co-eternal, and ordered Arius to think likewise and give up the contrary arguments. When he failed to persuade him, and many of the bishops and clergy about him already thought that Arius spoke rightly, he excommunicated him and the clergy who supported him in the doctrine. Those who supported him from the Alexandrian church were the presbyters Aithales, Achillas, Carpones, Sarmates and Arius, and the deacons Euzoius, Macarius, Julius, Menas and Helladius. From then on no small part of the people also went over to them, some thinking that they ought to believe the same about God, others, as commonly happens with most people, pitying them as wronged and as expelled from the church without trial. Since matters stood thus at Alexandria, Arius's party, reckoning it necessary to win over first the goodwill of the bishops in the various cities, sent envoys to them. Writing down what they believed, they asked that, if it was right to hold these views about God, the bishops should tell Alexander not to be harsh with them; and if not, that they should be taught how they ought to think. This effort helped them not a little. For when this doctrine had been spread among almost everyone, the same question became common to the bishops everywhere. Some wrote to Alexander not to receive Arius's party unless they renounced their belief; others asked him not to do this. Alexander, seeing that very many men, dignified by the appearance of a good life and formidable in persuasive speech, were supporting Arius's party, especially Eusebius, who then presided over the church of Nicomedia, a learned man honoured at the palace, wrote to the bishops everywhere not to hold communion with them. From this the zeal on both sides was kindled still more, and, as usually happens, a greater strife was stirred up. For when Eusebius's party had often begged Alexander and failed to persuade him, they were angry as if insulted, and became more eager to strengthen the doctrine of Arius. They held a synod in Bithynia and wrote to the bishops everywhere to hold communion with Arius's party as holding right opinions, and to induce Alexander also to hold communion with them. When their effort still went against their wishes, since Alexander would not yield, Arius sent envoys to Paulinus, bishop of Tyre, to Eusebius son of Pamphilus, who governed the church of Caesarea in Palestine, and to Patrophilus of Scythopolis, and asked that he and those with him be allowed to assemble the people who were with them, since they had formerly held the rank of presbyters. For it was the custom at Alexandria, as it still is now, that while there is one bishop over all, the presbyters hold the churches separately and gather the people in them. These bishops met with other bishops in Palestine and voted for Arius's request, directing that they should assemble the people as before, but should be subject to Alexander and continually entreat him to grant them peace and communion with him.

When many synods had been held on this matter in Egypt as well, and the strife was at its height, so that it reached the palace, the emperor Constantine was greatly vexed, because the disagreement over doctrines was turning many away from becoming Christians just when the religion had lately begun to grow. For this reason he plainly held Arius and Alexander to blame. He wrote to them and accused them of bringing into the open this question, which might have stayed hidden, and of stirring it up contentiously by too much zeal for opposing views, when they ought neither to have raised it in the first place nor to have pondered it, and, having pondered it, ought to have consigned it to silence. They could have kept from separating from one another, even if they differed on some part of the doctrine. For about divine providence it is necessary to have one and the same faith; but the hair-splitting of inquiries about such matters, even if it does not come to one opinion, ought to be kept secret in the mind. He ordered them to give up their talk about these things and to be of one mind. He was, he said, greatly grieved, and for this reason had put off his eager wish to see the cities of the East. Such was what he wrote to Alexander and Arius, partly blaming and partly advising them. He was also distressed to learn that some celebrated the feast of Easter differently from everyone else. At that time some in the cities of the East differed on this point; they did not break off communion with one another, but they kept the feast in a more Jewish way, and, as was natural, through their disagreement on this they spoiled the splendour of the festival. He was eager, then, that the church should be free of strife on both counts. Thinking that he could check the evil before it spread to more people, he sent a man of his circle distinguished for faith and life, who had won renown in earlier times by his confessions for the doctrine, to reconcile those in Egypt who were in strife over the doctrine and those in the East who differed over the feast. This was Hosius, bishop of Cordova.

When the matter went against his hopes, and the strife was too strong for reconciliation, and the man sent to arbitrate the peace came back without success, he summoned a synod to Nicaea in Bithynia and wrote to the leaders of the churches everywhere to be present on a set day. Of the apostolic sees there took part in this assembly Macarius of Jerusalem, Eustathius, who already had charge of the church of Antioch on the Orontes, and Alexander of Alexandria by Lake Mareotis. Julius, bishop of Rome, was absent because of old age; in his place Vito and Vincentius, presbyters of the same church, were present. Besides these, very many other good and upright men came together from various nations: some able in thought and speech, distinguished for knowledge of the sacred books and of other learning, and eminent in virtue of life; others renowned in both respects. There were about three hundred and twenty bishops; and since presbyters and deacons naturally accompanied them, the crowd was not small. With them were also men skilled in debate, eager to help them in argument. As usually happens, many of the priests, thinking they had come together to contend for their own affairs, considered this an opportunity to set right what grieved them; and each, about what he blamed in others, handed a petition to the emperor and reported the wrongs done to him. When this was being done readily every day, the emperor ordered each to make plain on a set day what he was accusing. When the appointed time came, he received the petitions that had been handed in and said: “These accusations have their proper time, the day of the great judgment, and their judge, the one who will then judge all. It is not lawful for me, a man, to take upon myself such a hearing, where priests accuse and are accused. Such men should least of all present themselves to be judged by another. Come then, let us imitate the divine love of humankind in forgiving one another; let the charges be blotted out, let us be persuaded, and let us give our zeal to the matters of faith for whose sake we have come here.” Having said this, the emperor ordered each man's charge to be set aside and the petitions to be burned, and he fixed a day on which the disputed questions should be resolved. Before the appointed time the bishops met by themselves, summoned Arius, and set before the assembly what he believed and debated it. As was natural, since the inquiry turned to various questions, some advised that there be no innovation against the faith handed down from the beginning, especially those whose simple manners led them to accept faith in God without curiosity; others maintained that older opinions should not be followed without examination. Many of the bishops who had then come together, and of the clergy who accompanied them, being able debaters and practised in such methods of argument, became prominent and known to the emperor and those about him. From that time Athanasius of Alexandria too, then still a deacon and in the company of Alexander the bishop, was thought to have the greatest share in the deliberations on these matters.

Moreover, some of the learned among the pagans deliberately took part in these debates: some eager to learn what the doctrine was; others, hating the Christians because the pagan religion had lately begun to perish, threw the inquiry about the doctrine into verbal contests, so that the Christians would quarrel among themselves and appear to contradict one another. It is said that when one of them, out of ambition for speaking, was boasting and mocking the priests, a simple old man, one of those renowned for their confessions, could not bear his arrogance. Though he had no part in such quibbling and jargon, he took up the argument against him. At this the thing roused laughter among the rash who knew the confessor, and fear among the reasonable, who foresaw that he would appear ridiculous before a man skilled in argument. Nevertheless, since they let him say what he wished, for out of respect they could not oppose such a man for long, he said: “In the name of Jesus Christ, philosopher, listen. There is one God, the maker of heaven and earth and of all things visible and invisible, who made all these by the power of the Word and established them by the holiness of his Holy Spirit. This Word,” he said, “whom we call the Son of God, took pity on men for their error and their beastlike way of life, and chose to be born of a woman, to live among men, and to die for them. And he will come again as judge of what each has done in life. That these things are so we believe without curiosity. Do not labour in vain, then, seeking proofs of what is accomplished by faith, and the way in which these things could or could not have happened. But if you believe, answer me as I ask.” Struck by this, the philosopher said, “I believe.” Acknowledging his defeat with thanks, he held the same views as the old man, and advised those who had been of his former opinion to agree with him, swearing that he had not changed without God, but had been moved to become a Christian by some unspeakable power. A wonder like the one described is said to have been worked through Alexander, who governed the church of Constantinople. When Constantine came to Byzantium, some philosophers approached him and complained that he did not worship as he should and was innovating in divine matters, bringing into the state a new worship contrary to what had been customary with his ancestors and with all the rulers of Greeks and Romans whom past ages had produced. They asked to debate with Alexander the bishop about the doctrine. Although he was unpractised in such exercises of argument, he relied perhaps on his life, for he was a good and upright man, and he accepted the contest at the emperor's command. When the philosophers came together, since all wished to debate, he asked them to choose one whom they wished, and the others present to keep quiet. When one had taken up the argument, Alexander said to him: “In the name of Jesus Christ I command you not to speak.” At the word the man's mouth was at once bound, and he fell silent. Is it fair, then, to consider which is the greater wonder, so easily to take speech from a man, and a philosopher at that, or to cleave a stone by force of a word with the hand, which I have heard was boasted of by some in the case of Julian, called the Chaldean? This is what I learned of these matters.

The bishops met continually, brought Arius forward, and examined his propositions closely; but they took care not to cast their vote rashly for either side. When the appointed day came on which the doubtful questions were to be settled, they gathered at the palace, since the ruler had decided to share in their deliberation. When he had come together with the priests, he passed to the head of the assembly and sat on a throne that had been prepared for him, and the synod was told to sit down. Many benches had been set out on either side along the walls of the palace hall, which was very large and surpassed the others. When they were seated, Eusebius son of Pamphilus rose and addressed a speech to the emperor, and on his account a hymn of thanksgiving to God. When he had finished and there was silence, the emperor said: “For all things I give thanks to God, my friends, and not least for seeing your assembly. It has turned out better than I prayed, to bring so many priests of Christ together. I should wish to see you of one mind and sharing a harmonious judgment, since I consider it worse than any evil for the church of God to be in strife. So when I was told what I ought never to have heard, I was greatly grieved in soul to learn that you were at variance, you to whom it least belongs, since you are ministers of God and arbiters of peace. For this reason I have convened your holy synod; and being emperor and your fellow servant, I ask to receive a favour pleasing to God, our common Master, fitting for me to receive and for you to give: that you bring into the open the causes of the dispute and put an end to them in concord and peace, so that with you I may set up this trophy against the envious demon, who, now that foreign enemies and tyrants have been removed, has stirred up this civil strife, resenting our good fortune.” When the emperor had said this in the Roman tongue, someone standing by translated it.

After this the debate about the doctrine was opened among the priests. The emperor listened to the arguments on both sides at leisure and with great patience. He agreed with those who spoke well and drew the contentious away from their strife, talking gently with each, as far as he knew how to listen, since he was not unacquainted with the Greek language either. In the end all the priests came to agreement with one another and voted that the Son is of the same essence as the Father. At first only seventeen are said to have praised Arius's opinion; but immediately most of these too went over to the common opinion. The emperor also voted for this view, concluding that the agreement of the assembly had been approved by God; and he proclaimed that anyone who opposed what had been decided would be punished with exile, as one who had corrupted the divine definitions. So that the creed of the faith then agreed upon might remain firm and plain to those who would come after, I thought it necessary to set down the document itself as proof of the truth. But godly friends who understood such matters advised that these things should be spoken and heard only by the initiated and their initiators, and I approved their counsel. For it is not unlikely that some of the uninitiated will read this book. So I have hidden, as far as possible, the secret things that must be kept in silence, while not leaving the reader altogether ignorant of what the synod decided.

It should be known that they declared the Son to be of the same essence as the Father; and those who say, “There was once when he was not,” and “Before he was begotten he was not,” and that he came into being from nothing, or from another subsistence or essence, or that he is mutable or alterable, they anathematized and voted to be strangers to the catholic church. This formula was approved by Eusebius of Nicomedia, Theognis of Nicaea, Maris of Chalcedon, Patrophilus of Scythopolis, and Secundus of Ptolemais in Libya. Eusebius son of Pamphilus held back a little, examined it, and approved it. The synod anathematized Arius and those who thought as he did, and voted that he should not set foot in Alexandria. They also condemned the expressions of his opinion, and the book which he composed about it and entitled Thalia. I have learned, for I have not read it, that the style of this composition is loose, so that in its slackness it resembles the songs of Sotades. It should be known, however, that Eusebius of Nicomedia and Theognis of Nicaea neither agreed to nor signed the deposition of Arius, although they assented to the written statement of the faith. The emperor punished Arius with exile beyond the frontiers, and wrote to the bishops and peoples everywhere, as a law, that they should regard him and those of his mind as impious, and should burn any writing of theirs that was found, so that no memorial either of him or of the doctrine he introduced should survive. If anyone were caught hiding one and did not at once report and burn it, the penalty was to be death and capital punishment. He also sent other letters to the cities against Arius and those who shared his opinions. He ordered Eusebius and Theognis to leave the cities of which they were bishops. To the church of Nicomedia he wrote that they should hold to the faith which the synod had handed down, should put forward orthodox bishops and obey them, and should consign the memory of the others to oblivion; and he threatened to punish those who tried to praise them or to hold their views. In these letters he also made plain that he was hostile to Eusebius on other grounds, as one who had earlier taken the tyrant's side and plotted against him. In accordance with these letters of the emperor, Eusebius and Theognis were deprived of the churches they held; Amphion received that of Nicomedia, and Chrestus that of Nicaea. When the inquiry about the doctrine had ended, the synod decided that all should also celebrate the feast of Easter at the same time.

It is said that the emperor, taking thought for the concord of all Christians, also summoned to the synod Acesius, who was bishop of the church of the Novatians, showed him the definition about the faith and the feast, already confirmed by the bishops' signatures, and asked whether he too agreed with it. He replied that nothing new had been defined, and praised what the synod had decided; for so he too had received from the beginning to believe and to keep the feast. “Why then,” said the emperor, “if you think the same, do you separate yourself from communion?” He brought up the dispute that arose under Decius between Novatus and Cornelius, and said that after baptism they do not admit to communion in the mysteries those guilty of the sin which the divine Scriptures call “unto death”; for forgiveness depends on the authority of God alone, not of priests. The emperor took him up and said: “Acesius, set up a ladder and climb into heaven alone.” I think the emperor said this to Acesius not in praise, but because, being men, they think themselves without sin.

The synod, eager to reform the life of those who serve in the churches, enacted laws which they call canons. While they were deliberating on this, some thought it right to introduce a law that bishops and presbyters, deacons and subdeacons should not sleep with the wives they had married before they entered the priesthood. But Paphnutius the confessor rose and spoke against it. Calling marriage honourable, and intercourse with one's own wife chastity, he advised the synod not to make such a law; for the thing would be hard to bear, and might perhaps become a cause of unchastity both for them and for their wives. According to the ancient tradition of the church, he said, those who were unmarried when they entered the priestly order should not afterwards marry; but those who were married should not separate from the wives they had. Paphnutius proposed this, although he himself had no experience of marriage. The synod approved his counsel and made no law on the matter, but left it to each person's judgment, not to compulsion. On other matters it wrote down laws as it thought right, by which the affairs of the church should be governed. These anyone who wishes may easily read, for many people have copies.

When the events concerning Melitius in Egypt had also been examined, the synod sentenced him to remain in Lycus, holding the bare name of bishop, and thereafter to ordain no one either in city or in village. Those already appointed by him were to be in communion and to minister, but to take second place in honour to the clergy in each church and parish. They might succeed to the ranks of those who died before them, if they were found worthy by the vote of the people, the bishop of the church of Alexandria confirming the ordination; but they were not permitted to choose whomever they wished by their own judgment. This seemed just to the synod, considering the rashness and readiness of Melitius and those of the same opinion in ordaining; for while Peter, who was martyred, was leading the church of Alexandria and had fled because of the persecution of that time, Melitius had usurped the ordinations that belonged to him.

When the synod had decided these things, it happened that at the same time there was the festival of the twentieth year of Constantine's reign. It is the Roman custom to hold a public festival every ten years of the ruler's reign. Thinking it a fitting occasion, the emperor invited the synod to a banquet and honoured them with suitable gifts. When they were preparing to return home, he called them all together and advised them to be of one mind about the faith and to hold to peace among themselves, so that they might remain free of strife thereafter. After speaking at length on this, he finally bade them pray earnestly for himself, his children and the empire, and entreat God continually. Having said this to those who had come to Nicaea, he took leave of them. To make known to those who were absent what had been accomplished at the synod, he sent letters to the churches in the cities, and in particular other letters besides these to the church of Alexandria, urging them to lay aside all dissension and to agree about the faith set forth by the synod. For this, he said, was nothing other than the mind of God, established by the Holy Spirit through the agreement of so many and such great high priests, and approved after exact inquiry and testing of all doubtful points.

So the affairs at Nicaea came to this end, and each of the priests returned home. The emperor rejoiced exceedingly, seeing the catholic church in agreement on doctrine; and offering thanks to God for the concord of the bishops, for himself, his children and the empire, he thought he should build a house of prayer to God in Jerusalem, near what is called the place of the Skull. About the same time his mother Helena came to Jerusalem to pray and to visit the holy places there. Being devoutly disposed toward the doctrine of the Christians, she made it a great concern to find the wood of the venerable cross. But it was not easy to find either it or the godly tomb. For the pagans who formerly persecuted the church, eager by every device to cut off the religion while it was still beginning to grow, had hidden the place under a great mound of earth and raised it high, though it had been lower, as can still be seen. They enclosed the whole area of the resurrection and of the Skull, adorned it, paved the surface with stone, built a temple of Aphrodite and set up an image, so that those who worshipped Christ there would seem to honour Aphrodite, and in time the true reason for the reverence paid to the place would be forgotten, since Christians did not dare to go there freely or to point it out to others, while the pagan temple and statue were gaining credit. Yet the place became known and the deception contrived about it was detected: as some say, because a Hebrew who lived in the East revealed it from writings handed down from his fathers; but as it is truer to think, because God showed it by signs and dreams. For I do not think that divine things need to be revealed by men, when God sees fit to make them known. At that time, then, by the emperor's command, the area was cleared to a depth, and in one part the cave of the resurrection appeared. Elsewhere, near the same place, three crosses were found, and apart from them another piece of wood, like a whitened board, bearing in Hebrew, Greek and Roman letters the words, “Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews.” As the sacred book of the Gospels relates, this had been written above Christ's head by order of Pilate, who governed Judea. But it was still difficult to distinguish the divine cross, even though it had been found, since the inscription had been torn off and thrown aside, and the three crosses were scattered about at random, the order, naturally, having been confused when the crucified bodies were taken down. For when the soldiers found him already dead on the wood, they took him down and gave him up first for burial, according to the account. After that, hastening the death of the robbers on either side, they broke their legs, and threw the pieces of wood one here, one there, wherever it happened. Why would they take care to leave them in their former order, when each was eager to finish before evening and thought it no good thing to linger near the crosses of men who had died by violence? Since the divine wood was thus still unknown and needed a revelation more divine than human, the following happened. There was in Jerusalem a woman of rank who was suffering from a very severe and incurable disease. Macarius, bishop of Jerusalem, came to her as she lay ill, bringing with him the emperor's mother and those about her. He first prayed, and gave those who were watching a sign: that cross would be the divine one which, when laid on the woman, would free her from her disease. Then he brought each piece of wood and applied it to her. When two had been laid on her, what was happening seemed nothing but nonsense and a joke, for the woman was at death's door. But when he brought the third piece of wood in the same way, she suddenly opened her eyes, gathered her strength, and at once sprang up healthy from her bed. It is said that a dead man was also restored to life in the same way. Of the godly wood that was found, the greater part, kept in a silver case, is still guarded in Jerusalem to this day. The empress took a part to her son Constantine, and also the nails with which the body of Christ had been pierced. From these, they relate, the emperor made a helmet and a horse's bridle, according to the prophecy of Zechariah, which foretold: “At the present time, what is on the bridle of the horse shall be holy to the Lord Almighty.” For so the prophet says in these words. These things had long been known and foretold by the sacred prophets, but were confirmed later by wonderful works, when they appeared at the time God thought fit. Nor is this so very wonderful, since even the pagans themselves agree that this line is the Sibyl's: “O most blessed wood, on which God was stretched out!” Not even someone eager to oppose it could deny this. So the wood of the cross was foretold, and the veneration paid to it. We have related these things as we received them, having heard them from men who knew them exactly, to whom the knowledge came by succession from fathers to sons, and from those who wrote them down, as far as they were able, and left them to those who came after.

About this time the emperor, having resolved to raise a church to God, ordered the governors there to see that the work should be made as magnificent and costly as possible. His mother Helena for her part built two churches, one at Bethlehem by the cave of Christ's birth, and the other on the summit of the Mount of Olives, from which he was taken up into heaven. Many other things show her piety and reverence, and not least this. It is said that while she was staying at Jerusalem at that time she invited the holy virgins to a banquet and became their servant at the meal, setting the dishes before them, pouring water on their hands, and doing the other things that it is customary for the servants of guests to do. Then, going round the cities of the East, she honoured the churches in each city with fitting gifts; she made rich many who had fallen from their property; she distributed necessities generously to the poor; and she freed people from long imprisonment, from exile beyond the frontiers, and from the mines. And it seems to me that she received a worthy reward for these things. For she passed her life here as splendidly and as illustriously as was possible: she was proclaimed Augusta, she stamped gold coin with her own image, and she received from her son authority over the imperial treasuries and used them as she wished. When she had to leave this life, she died gloriously, about eighty years old, leaving her son, together with the Caesars, her grandsons, rulers of the whole Roman world. And if there is any benefit in such things, oblivion did not cover her even in death; for future ages hold a pledge of her lasting memory in the city in Bithynia, and another among the Palestinians, which took their names from her. Let this be what we have to say about Helena.

The emperor, always labouring at something, contributed to piety and raised most beautiful churches to God everywhere, especially in the chief cities, as at Nicomedia in Bithynia, at Antioch on the river Orontes, and at the city of Byzantium, which he made equal to Rome in power and a sharer in its rule. For when everything went as he wished, and his dealings with foreign peoples had been brought to success by wars and treaties, he decided to found a city bearing his own name and equal in honour to Rome. He took the plain before Ilium, by the Hellespont, above the tomb of Ajax, where the Achaeans who once made war on Troy are said to have had their anchorage and their tents, and he laid out the plan of the city, its shape and its size; and he built gates on a height, which are still seen from the sea by those sailing past. While he was at work on this, God appeared to him by night and bade him seek another place; and moving him to Byzantium in Thrace, across from Chalcedon in Bithynia, he showed him that he should build this city and that it was worthy to bear the name of Constantine. Obeying the words of God, he enlarged the city formerly called Byzantium to a wide extent and surrounded it with very great walls. Since he judged the native inhabitants too few to be citizens of so great a city, he built very large houses here and there along the streets and settled in them men of note, whom he summoned with their households, some from the elder Rome and some from other nations, and made them owners of the houses. He imposed taxes, some for the buildings and ornaments of the city, others for the maintenance of the citizens; and having arranged everything else about the city, and adorned it lavishly with a hippodrome, fountains, porticoes and other buildings, he named it New Rome, Constantinople, and made it the capital of all who inhabit the Roman lands to the north, to the south and to the east, and of the seas between, from the cities by the Ister and Epidamnus on the Ionian gulf as far as Cyrene and the part of Libya called Boreum. He established another great council, which they call the senate, and appointed the same honours and festivals as were customary for the Romans of the elder city. Eager to show his namesake city a rival in everything to Rome in Italy, he did not fail; for with God's help, it has grown so greatly that it is agreed to surpass Rome in population and in wealth. I think the reason for this is the godliness of its founder and of the city, and the compassion and generosity of its inhabitants toward the needy. It draws people so strongly to faith in Christ that many Jews and almost all pagans there become Christians. Since it began to rule at the time when religion was increasing in numbers, it has known neither altars nor pagan temples nor sacrifices, except for a brief attempt by Julian, who reigned later, which was soon quenched. Constantine honoured this city, as a newly founded city of Christ and his namesake, and adorned it with many very great houses of prayer. The Divine too assisted the emperor's zeal, and confirmed by manifestations that the houses of prayer in the city were holy and saving. It is agreed that the most famous of all, to strangers and citizens alike, has been from that time the church at the place once called Hestiae. This is the place now called the Michaelion, on the right as one sails from the Pontus to Constantinople, about thirty-five stades from the city by sea, and more than seventy going round the bay between. The place has received the name that now prevails because it is believed that Michael the divine archangel appears there. I too, having received very great benefits there, affirm that this is true. The experience of events shows it to be so from many other cases as well. Some who fell into terrible misfortunes or inescapable dangers, others into diseases or unknown afflictions, prayed to God there and found release from their troubles. It would be long to tell each case, how it happened and to whom; but I must tell what happened to Aquilinus, a man who still lives among us and pleads cases in the same courts as I do, partly as I heard it from him and partly as I saw it myself. When a violent fever caused by yellow bile seized him, the physicians gave him a medicine to drink, and he vomited it up; with the vomiting the bile poured out and stained his skin the same colour, and from then on he vomited every food and drink. When he had endured this for a long time and no food would stay in him, the physicians' art was at a loss before the disease. Being now half dead, he told his household to carry him to the house of prayer, declaring that he would either die there or be freed from his disease. As he lay there, a divine power appeared to him by night and ordered him to dip his food in a drink compounded of honey, wine and pepper mixed together. This freed the man from his disease, although to the physicians, according to the principles of their art, so very heating a drink seemed contrary to disorders of yellow bile. I have learned also that Probianus, one of the physicians who served at the palace, who suffered severely from a disease of the feet, was freed from his pains there and was counted worthy of a wonderful divine vision. He had at first been a pagan; when he began to be a Christian, the other parts of the doctrine seemed to him in some way persuasive, but he did not accept that the divine cross had become the cause of salvation for all. While he was of this mind, a divine vision appeared to him and showed him a symbol of the cross among those dedicated at the altar of the church there, and declared plainly that since Christ was crucified, of all the things that have been done for the common benefit of the human race or for individuals, none has been achieved, either by the divine angels or by pious and good men, without the power of the venerable cross. I have been led to tell these things, since there is no time to list all that I know to have happened in this church.

It is necessary also to relate what the emperor Constantine decided about the oak called Mamre. This place, which they now call the Terebinth, is fifteen stades from Hebron, which lies to the south, and about two hundred and fifty stades from Jerusalem. It is truly said that here the Son of God appeared to Abraham together with the angels sent against the Sodomites, and foretold to him the birth of his son. Here even now the people of the country and of more distant parts, Palestinians, Phoenicians and Arabians, hold a splendid yearly festival in summer. Very many also come together for trade, to sell and to buy. For the place is greatly prized by all: by the Jews because they boast of Abraham as their patriarch; by the pagans because of the visit of the angels; and by the Christians because he who in later times showed himself openly through the Virgin for the salvation of the human race then appeared to the pious man. They honour this place in ways suited to their religions: some praying to the God of all, others invoking the angels, pouring libations of wine, burning incense, and sacrificing an ox, a goat, a sheep or a cock. For each man kept whatever fine animal he had been carefully rearing through the whole year, promised for the feast of the festival here for himself and his household. All of them, honouring the place or guarding against suffering harm through divine wrath, neither have intercourse here with women, though these, as at a festival, take more care of beauty and adornment and happen to appear in public and go about, nor are they otherwise licentious, even though for the most part they have their tents together and sleep side by side. For the place is open country and ploughland, without buildings except those that were once Abraham's, by the oak, and the well he made. At the time of the festival no one draws water from it; for by pagan custom some set lighted lamps there, others poured wine or threw cakes into it, others coins, perfumes or incense; and for this reason, naturally, the water became useless because of what was thrown in. The mother of Constantine's wife, coming there once to fulfil a vow, reported to the emperor these rites, which were performed in the manner described and with pleasure, according to pagan custom. When he learned of it, he blamed the bishops of Palestine severely for neglecting their duty and allowing a holy place to be defiled by profane libations. His pious rebuke is shown by the letter he wrote on this to the bishop of Jerusalem, Eusebius son of Pamphilus, and the other bishops of Palestine. He ordered them to meet at the place with the bishops of Phoenicia, to demolish from its foundations the altar that had been there, to burn the images, and to lay out a church there worthy of the antiquity and sanctity of the place; and thereafter to see that it was kept free of libations and sacrifices, so that nothing else should be done there but the worship of God according to the law of the church. If anyone were caught attempting the former practices, the bishops were to report him, so that the emperor might inflict the severest punishment on him. In accordance with this letter of the emperor, the governors and the priests of Christ carried out what was commanded.

Since many peoples and cities throughout the empire still had fear and reverence for the illusion of idols, turned away from the doctrine of the Christians, and clung to antiquity and their ancestral customs and festivals, it seemed necessary to him to teach his subjects to neglect what they worshipped. This, he thought, would be easy if he first accustomed them to despise the temples and the statues in them. When he had resolved on this, he had no need of military force. Christian men of the palace carried out what had been decided, going through the cities with imperial letters. The peoples kept quiet, fearing that they themselves, their children and their wives might suffer some harm if they resisted. The temple wardens and priests, stripped of the support of the crowd, gave up their most precious things, including the images said to have fallen from heaven, and themselves brought them out of the inner shrines and the secret recesses of the temples. What had formerly been inaccessible and known only to the priests became accessible to anyone who wished. Of the images, those made of precious material, and of the other things whatever seemed useful, were refined by fire and became public property. Those wonderfully worked in bronze were brought from everywhere to the city named after the emperor, for ornament, and they still stand in public in the streets, the hippodrome and the palace. Among them were the Apollo of the Pythian oracle, the Muses of Helicon, the tripods of Delphi, and the celebrated Pan which Pausanias the Lacedaemonian and the Greek cities dedicated after the war against the Medes. Some temples were stripped of their doors, others of their roofs; others, otherwise neglected, fell into ruin and decay. At that time the temple of Asclepius at Aegae in Cilicia was razed and utterly destroyed, and that of Aphrodite at Aphaca by Mount Lebanon and the river Adonis. Both were very famous temples and revered by the ancients. For the people of Aegae boasted that those who were sick in body were freed from their diseases there, the demon appearing by night and healing them; and at Aphaca, at a certain invocation and on a set day, a fire darted like a star from the summit of Lebanon and sank into the nearby river. They said this was Urania, as they call Aphrodite. When this had happened, what the emperor was striving for went forward as he intended. Some, seeing things that had been held holy and dreadful thrown down anyhow and stuffed inside with straw and rubbish, came to despise what they had formerly revered and blamed their ancestors for their error. Others, envying the honour the Christians had with the emperor, thought it necessary to imitate the ruler. Others, giving themselves to the examination of the doctrine, judged it better to be Christians, through signs or dreams or conversations with bishops or monks. From that time peoples and cities changed their former opinion of their own accord. So it was that the port of the city of Gaza, which they call Maiuma, which had been exceedingly devoted to superstition and before this admired the ancient rites, turned to Christianity all at once, the whole people together. Rewarding them for their piety, the emperor counted them worthy of the highest honour: he declared the place, which had not been a city before, a city, and named it Constantia, honouring the place with the name of the most honoured of his children because of its religion. For a similar reason I have learned that Constantina in Phoenicia too took the emperor's name. But it is not easy to record each case; for very many other cities went over to the religion at that time and of their own accord, without any command of the emperor, pulled down their temples and images and built houses of prayer.

As the church was multiplying in this way throughout the Roman world, the religion also made its way among the barbarians themselves. For the tribes about the Rhine were already Christians, as were the Celts and the farthest Gauls who live by the Ocean; and the Goths, and those who formerly bordered on them about the banks of the river Ister, having long since shared in faith in Christ, had changed to a gentler and more rational way of life. For almost all the barbarians the occasion of honouring the doctrine of the Christians was the wars that arose from time to time between the Romans and foreign peoples, under the reign of Gallienus and the emperors after him. For when at that time an untold multitude of mixed nations crossed from Thrace and overran Asia, and other barbarians elsewhere did the same to the Romans who bordered on them, many priests of Christ were taken captive and were with them. When they healed the sick there and cleansed those possessed by demons, naming only Christ and calling on him as Son of God, and moreover lived a blameless life and overcame reproach by their virtues, the barbarians, marvelling at the men's life and their wonderful works, saw that it was wise, and that they would have God gracious to them, if they imitated those who had shown themselves better and served the Supreme as they did. So they took them as guides in what they should do, were taught and baptized, and thereafter assembled as churches.

Under the reign we are describing, the Iberians are said to have come to know Christ. This is a barbarian nation, large and very warlike, living further inland than the Armenians, toward the north. A Christian woman who had been taken captive led them to despise their ancestral religion. Being very faithful and exceedingly devout, she did not relax her customary way of life even among foreigners. Fasting was dear to her, and praying night and day and blessing God. The barbarians asked why she endured this; and when she said simply that this was how one must worship God's Son, both the name of the one worshipped and the manner of worship seemed strange to them. It happened that a child there fell gravely ill, and his mother carried him round to every house and showed him; for the Iberians have this custom, so that if anyone is found who knows a cure for the disease, release from the illness may be easily obtained for the sick. When the child had been cured nowhere and was brought to the captive woman, she said: “Of medicines, whether to drink or to apply, I have neither knowledge nor experience; but I believe that Christ, whom I worship, the true and great God, will be the saviour of your child, woman.” At once she prayed for him and freed from his disease the child who was expected to die at any moment. Not long afterward, in the same way, she saved the wife of the ruler of the nation, who was about to perish from an incurable disease, and taught her the knowledge of Christ, presenting him as the steward of health, of life and of kingship, and Lord of all. The queen, believing from the experience of what had happened to her that the captive's words were true, honoured the religion of the Christians and held the woman in great honour. The king, amazed at the speed and wonder of the faith and the cure, learned the cause from his wife and ordered that the captive be rewarded with gifts. “But she makes little account of these,” said the queen, “even if they are thought very precious. Only the service of her own God does she value highly. If, then, we wish to please her, and to act safely and do well, come, let us too worship this God, who is mighty and a saviour, who causes kings to remain in their place if he wills, and again is able easily to make the great small, the obscure famous, and to save those in danger.” Though the woman often seemed to speak well in this way, the ruler of Iberia was in two minds and not fully persuaded, considering the novelty of the matter and revering his ancestral religion. Not long after, he went into a forest with his companions to hunt. Suddenly a very thick mist and dense air poured round them on every side and hid the sky and the sun; deep night and great darkness held the forest. Each of them, fearing for himself, scattered from the others. The king, wandering alone, as people commonly do when helpless in danger, thought of Christ, and resolved in his mind to hold him as God and to worship him thereafter, if he escaped the present evil. While he was still thinking this, the mist at once dispersed, the air changed to clear sky, and as the sun's rays struck into the forest, he came safely out. He told his wife what had happened, sent for the captive, and ordered her to teach him how Christ ought to be worshipped. When she had explained what it was lawful for a woman to say and do, he gathered his subjects and announced publicly the divine benefits that had come to him and his wife; and though he was not yet initiated, he imparted the doctrine to his subjects. They persuaded the whole people to worship Christ, he the men and the queen, with the captive, the women. And quickly, by the common agreement of the whole nation, they made ready with great zeal to build a church. When they had raised the enclosure round the church, they set up machines, hoisted the columns, and fixed them on their bases. It is said that when the first and second had been set upright, the setting up of the third column proved laborious, and could be achieved neither by the skill of the experts nor by force, though many were hauling. When evening came, the captive alone spent the night there, entreating God that the raising of the columns might be made easy. All the others went away in distress, the king most of all. For the column, raised halfway, stayed slanting, stuck in the ground, and its lower end would not move. This was to make the Iberians firmer in their belief in the Divine than the wonders before it. For when they came to the church at dawn, a marvellous thing like a dream appeared: the column that had been immovable the day before stood upright, hanging a little above its own base. All were astonished and confessed that Christ alone is the true God; and as all watched, it slid down quietly of its own accord and fitted onto its base as if by skill. After this the others were set up easily, and the Iberians completed the rest more eagerly. When the church had been built with zeal, at the captive's suggestion they sent envoys to the emperor Constantine, offering alliance and treaties and asking in return that priests be sent to the nation. When the envoys had related what had happened among them, and how the whole nation worshipped Christ with great care, the emperor of the Romans was pleased with the embassy, and sent the envoys away having done all they wished. In this way the Iberians came to know Christ, and they still worship him carefully to this day.

I have learned that the Armenians were Christians even earlier. It is said that Tiridates, the ruler of this nation, because of a wonderful divine sign that befell his house, at once became a Christian and by a single proclamation ordered all his subjects to worship likewise. After that the doctrine passed through the neighbouring tribes and grew in numbers. I think that the first Persians to become Christians were those who, through their dealings with the Osrhoenians and Armenians, naturally associated with the godly men there and experienced their virtue.

When in time they had become very numerous and had begun to hold assemblies and to have priests and deacons, this greatly grieved the magi, who from the beginning have had charge of the Persians' religion by hereditary succession, like a priestly tribe. It grieved the Jews too, who in some way are by nature set at war against the doctrine of the Christians through envy. They slandered to Sapor, the king at that time, Symeon, then archbishop of Seleucia and Ctesiphon, the royal cities of Persia, as a friend of the Caesar of the Romans who reported the affairs of the Persians to him. Persuaded by the slanders, Sapor at first ground down the Christians with immoderate taxes, knowing that most of them practised voluntary poverty, and entrusted the collection to harsh men, so that, forced by lack of money and the cruelty of the collectors, they would abandon their religion; for this was his aim. After this he ordered the priests and ministers of God to be put to the sword, the churches to be razed, their treasures to become public property, and Symeon to be brought to him as a traitor to the kingdom and religion of the Persians. The magi, then, with the help of the Jews, eagerly pulled down the houses of prayer. Symeon was arrested and brought in iron chains to the king; and there he showed himself a good and brave man. When Sapor ordered him to be brought in for torture, he neither feared nor did obeisance. The king, greatly angered at this, asked: “Why do you not do obeisance now, when you did so before?” Symeon said: “Because before I was not being brought in chains to betray the true God; and since there was no dispute, I fulfilled what was customary toward the kingship. But now it is not lawful for me to do this; for I have come to contend for piety and our doctrine.” When he had said this, the king ordered him to worship the sun, promising, if he obeyed, to give him many gifts and to hold him in honour, and threatening, if he disobeyed, to destroy both him and the whole race of Christians. When neither his threats terrified Symeon nor his promises softened him, but he remained brave, insisting that he would never worship the sun nor appear a traitor to his religion, the king ordered him to be kept in chains for the time being, reckoning, naturally, that he would change his mind. As he was being led to prison, Usthazanes, an old eunuch, Sapor's foster-father and chief of the king's household, saw him, rose and did obeisance to him; for he happened to be sitting before the palace doors. Symeon rebuked him insultingly, cried out in anger, turned away and passed by; for Usthazanes was a Christian and not long before had been forced to worship the sun. At once the eunuch burst into tears and laments, put off the splendid clothing he wore, put on black as one in mourning, and sat before the king's house weeping and groaning, saying: “Woe is me! What must I expect from the God I have denied, when on this account Symeon, who has long been my friend, has not even given me a word, but has turned away from me and passed me by!” When Sapor learned this, he called him and asked the reason for his mourning, and whether some misfortune had befallen his household. Usthazanes answered: “O king, I have met with no misfortune in my house here. Would that instead of what has befallen me I had fallen into every other kind of misfortune; it would have been easier. I mourn now because I am alive, and though I ought to have died long ago, I see the sun, which to please you I worshipped in appearance, not from conviction. So on both counts it is just that I die, having become a traitor to Christ and a deceiver toward you.” Having said this, he swore by the Creator of heaven and earth that he would not change his mind again. Sapor, astounded at the wonderful change in the eunuch, was still more incensed against the Christians, as though they did such things by sorcery. Yet sparing the old man, now gentle, now harsh, he tried with all his might to win him back. When he achieved nothing, since Usthazanes insisted he would never be so foolish as to worship the things made by God instead of God, the Creator of all, the king was moved to anger and ordered his head to be cut off with the sword. As he was being led to this by the executioners, he asked them to wait a little, so that he might tell the king something. He called one of the most trusted eunuchs and told him to say this to Sapor: “What goodwill I have had from youth until now toward your house, O king, toward your father and you, serving with fitting zeal, I think needs no witnesses with you, who know it well. In return for all the services I have ever done you, grant me this reward: that I may not seem to those who do not know to be suffering punishment as one unfaithful to the kingdom, or as caught in some other crime. To make this plain, let a herald proclaim aloud to all that Usthazanes is beheaded, not because he has been found wicked in any way at the palace, but because he is a Christian and would not obey the king and deny his own God.” The eunuch delivered this message, and Sapor, in accordance with Usthazanes' request, ordered a herald to proclaim it; for he thought that the others would readily stop being Christians if they realized that he would spare no Christian, since he had put to death an old man who was his foster-father and a loyal member of his household. But Usthazanes was eager that the cause of his punishment be proclaimed, reckoning that when he had worshipped the sun out of fear he had made many Christians afraid, and now, if they learned that he had been killed for his religion, he would make many imitators of his own courage.

So Usthazanes left this life most gloriously. Symeon, learning of it in prison, offered thanks to God for him. On the next day, which happened to be the sixth day of the week, on which, before the festival of the resurrection, the yearly commemoration of the saving passion is held, the king condemned Symeon also to be put to the sword. For he was brought again from the prison to the palace, argued very nobly with Sapor about the doctrine, and would not do obeisance either to him or to the sun. On the same day a hundred others who were in the prison were likewise ordered to be put to death, and Symeon to be slain last after them, when he had watched the death of all. Of these some were bishops, others presbyters, and others of other clerical orders. As they were all being led to death, the chief of the magi came and asked them whether they wished to live, by worshipping as the king did and honouring the sun. When no one chose life on these terms, and they had been brought to the place where they were to be killed, the executioners set to work and laboured at the slaughter of the martyrs; Symeon, standing by them as they were killed, urged them to be of good courage, and spoke about death, resurrection and piety. Confirming it from the sacred Scriptures, he showed that to die in this way is truly life, while to betray God through cowardice is confessedly death. For in a little while, even if no one kills them, they will die of themselves; for this end is inescapable for everyone who is born. But what comes after is everlasting, and will not befall all people alike: rather, as by a measuring line, they will give an exact account of their life here; and each will receive immortal rewards for the good he has done, and pay the penalty for the contrary. And greatest of all, the most blessed among good things, is to choose to die for God. As Symeon went through these things, like a trainer urging athletes in the games how they must enter the contest, each one who heard him went eagerly to the slaughter. When the executioner had gone through the hundred, last of all he killed Symeon himself, and Abdechalaas and Ananias, both elderly presbyters of his church, who had been arrested with him and were in chains.

At that time Pusices, who was over all the king's craftsmen, was standing there, and seeing Ananias trembling as he was being made ready for the slaughter, he said: “Old man, close your eyes for a little while and take courage; for at once you will see the light of Christ.” As soon as he had said this he was arrested and brought to the king. He confessed that he was a Christian; and because he spoke freely to the king on behalf of the doctrine and the martyrs, as one who had used improper boldness, he was ordered to be put to death in a strange and most cruel way: the executioners pierced his neck at the sinew and drew out his tongue through it. At the slander of some people his daughter too, a holy virgin, was arrested and put to death at that time. In the following year, on the day when the commemoration of the passion of Christ was being kept and the festival of the resurrection of the dead was expected, a most cruel order of Sapor went out through the whole land of the Persians, condemning to death those who confessed themselves to be Christians. It is said that at that time a multitude of Christians beyond counting was put to the sword. For the magi carefully hunted out in cities and villages those who were in hiding, and others gave themselves up of their own accord with no one bringing them, so as not to seem by their silence to deny Christ. As all Christians were killed without mercy, very many were put to death in the palace itself, among them Azades the eunuch, who was particularly dear to the king. When Sapor learned of his death he was exceedingly grieved, stopped this general slaughter, and ordered that only the teachers of the religion should be put to death.

At that time, when the queen fell ill, Tarbula, the sister of Symeon the bishop, a holy virgin, was arrested, together with a servant who followed the same way of life and a sister who after her husband's death had renounced marriage and was arrested likewise. Their arrest came about through the slander of the Jews, who accused them of plotting against the queen with poisons in revenge for Symeon's death. The queen (for sickness somehow tends to lend an ear to the worst things) believed the slander to be true, especially since it came from Jews; for she was of their way of thinking, lived in a Jewish manner, and regarded them as truthful and well disposed to her. The magi took Tarbula and the others and condemned them to death; they sawed them in two, impaled them on stakes, and, as a charm to avert the disease, made the queen pass between the stakes. It is said that this Tarbula was very comely and beautiful in appearance, and that one of the magi fell in love with her and secretly sent her an offer for intercourse, promising safety for her and her companions if she consented. But she would not endure hearing of such licentiousness; she insulted them and reproached their lewdness, and most eagerly chose to die rather than betray her virginity. When Sapor's order prevailed, as has been said above, that the rest should be left alone and only the priests and teachers of the doctrine arrested, the magi and chief magi went round the land of the Persians and carefully ill-treated the bishops and presbyters, especially in the country of the Adiabenians; this is a district of Persia that is almost entirely Christian.

About this time they also arrested Acepsimas the bishop and many of the clergy under him; but on reflection they contented themselves with the capture of the leader, and let the others go, taking away their property. But a presbyter named James followed Acepsimas of his own accord, and by begging the magi came under the same bonds; he served the old man eagerly, lightened his misfortunes as far as he could, and tended his wounds. For not long after his arrest the magi tortured him severely with raw thongs, trying to force him to worship the sun; and when he did not yield, they kept him again in chains. At that time also the presbyters Aithalas and James and the deacons Azadanes and Abdiesus were living in prison for the doctrine, after being most cruelly scourged by the magi. When much time had passed, the chief magus spoke to the king about them; and being allowed to punish them as he wished if they would not worship the sun, he made Sapor's order known to those in prison. When they answered openly that they would never become traitors to Christ nor worship the sun, he tortured them without mercy. Acepsimas, remaining brave in his confession of the doctrine, died; and some of the Armenian hostages among the Persians secretly took up his remains and buried them. The others, though scourged no less, survived beyond expectation, and since they did not change their mind, were put in chains again. Among them was Aithalas, whose arms, as he was stretched out while being beaten, were torn from his shoulders by the excessive pulling, so that he carried his hands dead and hanging, and others had to bring food to his mouth. Under this reign an innumerable multitude of presbyters, deacons, monks, holy virgins, and others who served the churches or were devoted to the doctrine ended their lives in martyrdom. Of the bishops, those I have learned of are Barbasymes, Paul, Gaddiabes, Sabinus, Mareas, Mocius, John, Hormisdas, Papas, James, Romas, Maares, Agas, Bochres, Abdas, Abdiesus, John, Abramius, Agdelas, Sapor, Isaac, and Dausas, who had been taken captive by the Persians from a place called Zabdaeus. At that time he died for the doctrine together with Mareabdes, a country bishop, and about two hundred and fifty of the clergy under him, who had been taken captive by the Persians.

About this time Milles was martyred. At first he served as a soldier among the Persians; afterward he left military service and emulated the apostolic way of life. It is said that, having been ordained bishop of a Persian city, he often suffered much and endured blows and draggings; and when he persuaded no one to become a Christian, he was angry, cursed the city, and departed. Not long afterward, when its leading men had offended against the king, an army came with three hundred elephants and destroyed the city, and having ploughed it like a field, sowed it. Carrying only a wallet, in which he had the sacred book of the Gospels, he went to Jerusalem to pray, and from there to Egypt to see the monks there. What wonderful and godly works we have received that this man performed is witnessed by the sons of the Syrians, who have written down his deeds and his life. For myself, I think it is enough for the present to relate these things about him and about those martyred in Persia under the reign of Sapor. For it would be a long task to enumerate everything that happened to them, who they were and where they came from, or how they accomplished their martyrdom and what punishments they endured; for among the Persians all kinds of such methods are pursued in rivalry of cruelty. To speak in summary as far as possible, it is said that of the martyrs of that time those recorded by name, men and women, amount to sixteen thousand, and that the multitude beyond these is past counting, so that it has seemed laborious to the Persians, the Syrians and those who live about Edessa, who have taken great care in this, to enumerate their names.

When Constantine, the emperor of the Romans, learned that the Christians in Persia were being warred against in this way, he was vexed and greatly distressed. Eager to help them, he was at a loss what to do so that they too might live securely. It happened that at that time envoys of the king of the Persians came to him; he granted their requests and sent them away having done as they wished. Thinking it then a fitting moment to commend the Christians in Persia to Sapor, he wrote to him, declaring that he would always have very great and lasting gratitude if Sapor were humane toward those under him who admired the doctrine of the Christians. For, he said, there is nothing to blame even in the manner of their religion, since they are content with bloodless prayers alone in supplicating God; for he takes no pleasure in the shedding of blood, but rejoices only in a pure soul that looks to virtue and piety, so that those who believe thus deserve praise. Then he promised that Sapor would have the Divine itself gracious to him for his care of the doctrine, using as proofs what had happened to Valerian and to himself. He himself, through faith in Christ, having divine help as his ally, had begun from the western Ocean and brought the whole Roman world under him, and had won many wars, fighting against foreign peoples and the tyrants of the time; he had needed no sacrifices or divinations, but the symbol of the cross going before his armies, and prayer pure from blood and defilement, had sufficed him for victory. Valerian, so long as he did not harm the churches, continued to prosper in his rule; but when he resolved to raise a persecution against the Christians, divine wrath drove him and put him in the power of the Persians, by whom he was taken captive and ended his life pitiably. Writing such things to Sapor, Constantine tried to persuade him to be well disposed toward the religion. For he took very great care of Christians everywhere, Romans and foreigners alike.

Not long after the synod at Nicaea, Arius, who was being taken into exile, was recalled; but he was still forbidden to set foot in Alexandria. His return to Egypt was in fact pressed for later, as will be told in its place. Soon afterward Eusebius of Nicomedia and Theognis of Nicaea recovered their churches, the former expelling Amphion, who had been ordained in his place, and the latter Chrestus. They were recalled after giving the bishops a document of repentance, which reads as follows: “Having already been condemned by your Piety without a trial, we ought to have kept silent about what your Piety had judged. But since it is absurd by our silence to give proof against ourselves to our slanderers, we therefore declare that we have both agreed in the faith and, having examined the meaning of ‘of the same essence’ (homoousios), have been wholly for peace, never having followed the heresy. Having put forward, for the security of the churches, whatever came into our minds, and having been fully satisfied, and having fully satisfied those who were to be persuaded through us, we signed the faith. We did not sign the anathema, not as finding fault with the faith, but as not believing that the man accused was such as he was charged with being, since we had been fully assured from what he had said to us privately, both by letters and in conversations face to face, that he was not such. But since your holy synod was persuaded, we do not oppose it, but agree with what you have determined, and by this letter we confirm our assent; not because we take our exile hard, but to strip off the suspicion of heresy. For if you will now at least deign to receive us into your presence, you will have us of one mind in everything, following what you have decided; especially since your Piety has seen fit to deal kindly with and to recall the very man who was charged with these things. We think it absurd, when the one held responsible has been recalled and has defended himself on the charges, that we should keep silent and give the proof against ourselves. Deign, then, as befits your Christ-loving Piety, to remind the most God-beloved emperor, to put our petitions into his hands, and to decide quickly what befits you concerning us.” In this way Eusebius and Theognis repented and recovered their churches.

About this time Alexander, bishop of Alexandria, being about to depart this life, left Athanasius as his successor, having directed the vote to him, as I think, by divine commands. For they say that Athanasius tried to flee, and was compelled against his will by Alexander to accept the episcopate. Apolinarius the Syrian bears witness to this, saying: “Impiety does not hesitate to make war afterward too. First it armed itself against the man's blessed teacher, and he was present as his advocate, as a son for his father. Then it turned against him himself, when he came to succeed to the episcopate, after much flight, but found according to God, as had been shown beforehand by divine revelations to the blessed man who entrusted the episcopate to him, that the successor would be no other than he. For he was being called from life; and being already at the point of departure, he called Athanasius by name, who was not present. When a man of the same name who was present answered the call, he said nothing to him, as not calling him. Again he called; and when this happened many times, the one present was passed over in silence, and the one absent was made known. And the blessed Alexander said prophetically: ‘Athanasius, you think you have escaped; but you will not escape,’ showing that he was being called to the contest.” This is what Apolinarius writes about Athanasius. Those of the heresy of Arius say that after Alexander's death those who held with Alexander and with Melitius were in communion with one another; that fifty-four bishops came together from the Thebaid and the rest of Egypt and agreed on oath to choose by common vote the man who should govern the church of Alexandria; but that seven of the bishops broke their oath and, against the judgment of all, ordained Athanasius by stealth; and that for this reason many of the people and of the clergy in Egypt avoided communion with him. But I am persuaded that this man did not come to the high priesthood without God, being able in speech and thought and able to withstand plots, such a man as his time particularly needed. He was a churchman in the fullest degree and most fitted for the priesthood, having shown himself such from youth, so to speak, self-taught. Indeed, they say that the following happened to him when he was not yet grown up. The Alexandrians still hold a public and very splendid festival on the yearly day of the martyrdom of Peter, who had been their bishop. Alexander, who then led the church, was keeping it; and having already completed the liturgy, he was waiting for those who were to dine with him. Spending the time by himself, he had his eyes on the sea. Seeing from a distance some boys playing on the shore and imitating a bishop and the customs of the church, so long as he saw that the imitation was harmless, he enjoyed the sight and was pleased with what was done. But when they touched also on the secret rites, he was troubled; and calling the leading clergy, he pointed out the boys, ordered them to be caught and brought to him, and asked what their game was, and what words and actions there were in it. At first they were afraid and denied it; but when he persisted in his questioning, they revealed that Athanasius had been their bishop and leader, and that some of the uninitiated boys had been baptized by him. Alexander carefully examined them as to what the priest of the game had asked them or done, and what they had answered or been taught. Finding that the whole order of the church had been exactly observed with them, he decided, after consulting the priests about him, that those who had once in simplicity been counted worthy of divine grace ought not to be baptized again. But he completed for them the other rites that only those who are ordained and administer the mysteries may perform. Athanasius, and the other boys who had been presbyters and deacons in the game, he handed over to their families, with God as witness, to be brought up for the church and led on to what they had imitated. Not long afterward he had Athanasius as his companion at table and his secretary. Well brought up, and having attended grammarians and rhetoricians, he was already reaching manhood when, before his episcopate, he gave those who talked with him proof that he was a wise and learned man. When Alexander died leaving him as successor, his reputation grew still more, confirmed by his own virtues and by the testimony of Antony the great monk. For when Athanasius summoned him, Antony obeyed, came into the cities, attended the churches, and agreed with him in his views about God. He held him as a friend in all things and turned away from those who opposed or hated him.

What made him most renowned of all was that those who held the views of Arius and Melitius were always plotting against him and yet never seemed to convict him justly. At first Eusebius tried him by letter, asking him to receive Arius's party, and threatened, without putting it in writing, to do him harm if he disobeyed. When he would not yield, maintaining that those who had invented a heresy by innovating against the truth and had been anathematized by the synod at Nicaea were not to be received, Eusebius worked to have the emperor himself receive Arius and grant him a return. How this came about I shall tell shortly. At that time the bishops were again in strife among themselves, splitting hairs over the term “of the same essence.” Some held that those who accepted it blasphemed, as holding the Son to be without existence of his own, and as thinking the same as Montanus and Sabellius. Others again turned away from the first party as pagans and accused them of introducing many gods. Eusebius son of Pamphilus and Eustathius of Antioch wore themselves out most of all over such matters. Both confessed the Son of God as existing in his own subsistence; yet, as if they did not understand each other, they slandered each other. Eustathius accused Eusebius of innovating against what had been decided at Nicaea about the doctrine; Eusebius said that he approved those decisions, and reproached Eustathius with the opinion of Sabellius.

A synod was held at Antioch, and Eustathius was deprived of the church of Antioch: in truth, as is widely said, because he praised the faith of Nicaea, openly attacked Eusebius's party, and Paulinus, bishop of Tyre, and Patrophilus of Scythopolis, whose opinion the priests of the East followed, and turned away from them as holding the views of Arius; but the pretext was that he had been caught disgracing the priesthood by unholy deeds. Because of his deposition a very great disturbance was stirred up at Antioch, so that the people almost took up swords and the whole city was in danger. This itself did him no little harm with the emperor. For when he learned that this had happened and that the people of the church had been divided in two, he was very angry and suspected him of being the cause of the disturbance. Yet he sent one of the distinguished officers about him with orders to put the people in fear and to stop the disturbance without tumult or harm. Those who had deposed Eustathius, who had gathered at Antioch for this purpose, reckoned that if they set over the church there someone of their own opinion who was known to the emperor and esteemed for learning, they would easily have the others obedient; so they thought it good to entrust the see of Antioch to Eusebius son of Pamphilus. They wrote about this to the emperor, declaring that it was exceedingly pleasing to the people as well; for so all those of the clergy and people who were hostile to Eustathius had requested. But Eusebius wrote to the emperor declining. The emperor praised his refusal, since a law of the church forbade one who had once led a church to seek another episcopate, and wrote to Eusebius approving his judgment and calling him blessed, as worthy to be bishop not of one city but of the whole world. He also wrote to the people of the church of Antioch about concord, and that they should not covet one who was bishop of others, since it is not good to desire what belongs to others. Besides these, he sent another letter separately to the synod; and in his letter to Eusebius he likewise admired his refusal. Having learned that Euphronius, a presbyter from Cappadocia, and George of Arethusa were approved in the faith, he ordered them to ordain whichever of these they judged best, or another who should appear worthy, as head of the church of Antioch. When they had received the emperor's letters, they ordained Euphronius. Eustathius, as I have learned, bore the false accusation quietly, judging this the better course. He was a good and upright man in general, and justly admired for his eloquence, as can be seen from the speeches of his that are in circulation, which are esteemed for their old-fashioned diction, the soundness of their thoughts, the beauty of their words, and the grace of their style.

About this time Julius held the see of Rome, after Mark, who had been bishop for a short time after Silvester; and Maximus held that of Jerusalem after Macarius. It is said that Maximus had been ordained by Macarius as bishop of the church of Diospolis, but was kept back by the inhabitants of Jerusalem. For being a confessor and good in other respects, he was the people's candidate, in their judgment, for the episcopate there after Macarius's death. When the people took it hard to be deprived of one whose virtue they had experienced, and a disturbance threatened, it seemed good that the people of Diospolis should choose another bishop, and that Maximus should remain in Jerusalem and share the priesthood with Macarius, and after his death lead the church. It should be known, however, that those who have looked into these matters closely maintain that this happened by Macarius's own wish and was urged on the people. For they say that he repented of the ordination of Maximus, reflecting that since Maximus held right views about God and was dear to the people because of his confession, he must necessarily be kept for his own succession. For he feared that after his death the party of Eusebius and Patrophilus, who held the views of Arius, would find an opportunity and entrust the see there to one of their own opinion. For even while Macarius was alive they had attempted innovations; but being excommunicated by him, they kept quiet for this reason.

Meanwhile the rivalry that had arisen among the Egyptians from the beginning had not yet come to an end. For when, at the synod of Nicaea, the Arian heresy had been entirely anathematized and the followers of Melitius had been received on the terms stated, Melitius, when Alexander returned to Egypt, handed over to him the churches he had unlawfully brought under himself, and lived in Lycus. But not long afterward, being about to depart this life, he appointed in his place one John, one of his intimates, contrary to the decree of the synod of Nicaea, and again became a cause of disorder to the churches. When the Arians saw the Melitians making innovations, they too threw the churches into confusion. As usually happens in such disturbances, some admired the opinion of Arius, others held that those ordained by Melitius ought to lead the churches, and attached themselves to them. Though the two parties had formerly been at variance with each other, when they saw the people following the priests of the catholic church they fell into envy, made a truce with one another, and took up a common enmity against the clergy of Alexandria. They mingled and conversed together, brought forward charges, and made defences, to such an extent that in course of time most people in Egypt called the Melitians adherents of Arius, although the Melitians differed only over the leadership of churches, while the Arians held the same views about God as Arius. Yet, though privately rejecting each other's positions, they endured feigning against their convictions and agreeing in the fellowship of their enmity, each thinking they would easily get what they wanted. In time, naturally, through their discussions on these matters they became familiar with the doctrines and held the same views about God. From then on the affair of Arius returned to its former turmoil, and peoples and clergy cut themselves off from communion with one another. Moreover, in other cities, especially among the Bithynians and the people of the Hellespont and in the city of Constantine, the question of Arius's doctrines was fanned up again. It is said, for instance, that Eusebius, bishop of Nicomedia, and Theognis of Nicaea persuaded the man whom the emperor had entrusted with keeping the document of the synod of Nicaea, erased their signatures, and set about teaching openly that one should not believe the Son to be of the same essence as the Father. When Eusebius was accused of this, he spoke openly to the emperor and, pointing to the robe he was wearing, said: “If this garment were cut in two before my eyes, I would never say that each part was of the same essence.” The emperor was greatly vexed at this. For he had thought that such inquiries had ended after the synod of Nicaea, and he saw them stirred up again beyond his expectation. Not least, Eusebius and Theognis grieved him by holding communion with certain Alexandrians whom the synod had reserved for repentance as not holding right views, and whom he himself had ordered to be sent away as causes of dissension, and who were for this reason living away from their country. Some say that it was angered for this reason that the emperor condemned Eusebius and Theognis to exile. But on this I have written above what I heard from those who knew exactly.

They were the first causes of the troubles that befell Athanasius. Having very great freedom of speech and power with the emperor, they were eager to bring Arius back to Alexandria as one of their opinion and a friend, and to drive Athanasius from the church as their opponent. So they slandered him to Constantine as the cause of strife and tumult in the church, and as keeping out of the church those who wished to enter, when all could be of one mind if only this were allowed. Many of the bishops and clergy who were with John confirmed that the slanders against him were true; they came continually to the emperor, saying that they were orthodox and accusing him and the bishops under him of murders, imprisonments, unjust beatings and woundings, and burnings of churches. When Athanasius in turn informed the emperor, charging John's party with unlawful ordinations, innovation against the decisions of Nicaea, unsound faith, and acts of violence and insult against those who held right views about God, Constantine no longer knew whom to believe. As they were bringing such charges against each other, and many accusers on both sides were often troubling him, since he cared greatly for the concord of the peoples, he wrote to Athanasius not to keep anyone out of the church, and that if this were reported again later, he would send without delay someone to expel him from the city of Alexandria. If anyone wishes to read the emperor's letter itself, the part about this reads as follows: “Having, then, knowledge of my will, grant unhindered entry to all who wish to enter the church. For if I learn that you have hindered any of those who lay claim to the church, or have kept them from entering, I will at once send someone who will depose you by my command and remove you from your place.” When Athanasius wrote and persuaded the emperor that those of Arius's party should not be admitted to communion with the church, Eusebius, seeing that he would not attain his aim while Athanasius was working for the opposite, decided that the man must be put out of the way by every device. Having no pretext for so great a plot, he promised the Melitians to secure the help of the powerful men about the emperor if they would accuse Athanasius. From this Athanasius faced his first charge: that he had imposed a tax of linen tunics on the Egyptians and had exacted such a levy from his accusers. But Apis and Macarius, presbyters of the church of Alexandria, who happened to be there, were able to prove the accusation false. On this charge Athanasius was summoned, and they accused him again of having sent a chest of gold to one Philumenus, as plotting against the ruler. When the emperor had found the accusers guilty of false accusation, he allowed Athanasius to return home, and wrote to the people of Alexandria, bearing witness to his great reasonableness and right faith, saying that he had been glad to meet him and was persuaded that he was a godly man, and that he had endured the accusation because of envy and had proved superior to his accusers. Having learned that many Egyptians were still contending on the pretext of Melitius, he urged the people in his letter to look to God, to keep his own judgment in mind, to be well disposed to one another, and to drive away with all their strength those who plotted against their concord. Writing in this way to the public, the emperor called all to concord and was eager that the church should not be torn apart.

The Melitians, having failed in their first attempt, wove other charges against Athanasius: one, that he had broken a sacred chalice; the other, that he had killed a certain Arsenius, cut off his arm, and kept it with him for sorcery. This Arsenius, a cleric, was said to have fallen into some sin and gone into hiding, for he suspected that he would be punished when called to account by his bishop. Those plotting against Athanasius turned what had happened into the most extreme slander. They searched carefully for Arsenius, found him, treated him kindly, promised to give him every goodwill and safety, and secretly brought him to one of their intimates who shared their aims; his name was Prines, presbyter of a monastery. Having hidden Arsenius there, they went eagerly about the market-places and the gatherings of those in authority, spreading the story that he had been murdered by Athanasius. A certain monk John was also prepared to bring such an accusation. When this shameful rumour had spread among many, so far that it reached the ears of the emperor, Athanasius saw that if he happened to be charged on this count too, it would be hard to defend himself before judges already prejudiced by such rumours. So he countered the stratagems of his opponents, and, winning over everyone as far as he could, he took care that the truth should not be hidden by their slanders. But it was hard to persuade most people while Arsenius did not appear. Reckoning that he could not clear himself of suspicion in any other way than by proving that the man said to be dead was alive, he sent one of his most trusted deacons to search for him. The deacon came to the Thebaid and, when some monks told him, learned where he was living. When he came to Prines, with whom he was hidden, he did not find Arsenius himself; for learning beforehand of the deacon's arrival, they had moved him to Lower Egypt. But he took Prines, and also Elias, one of his companions, who was said to have moved Arsenius elsewhere, and brought them to Alexandria. Both, brought before the commander of the military forces in Egypt, confessed that Arsenius was alive, that he had earlier been hidden with them unnoticed, and that he was now living in Egypt. Athanasius took care that this should be made known to Constantine. The emperor wrote back to him to hold carefully to his priesthood and to care for the good order and piety of the people, and to make nothing of the plots of the Melitians, since he well knew that envy stirred them to such false and fabricated charges and to the disturbances against the church. He himself, he said, would not permit such things in future; but if they did not keep quiet, he would be their judge according to the civil laws and would punish them, as men who not only plotted unjustly against the innocent but also unjustly corrupted the good order and piety of the church. Having written thus to Athanasius, the emperor ordered the letter to be read in public, so that all might know his purpose. From then on the followers of Melitius were afraid and kept quiet for a time, fearing the ruler's threat. The church throughout Egypt, at peace and directed by the leadership of so great a priest, grew manifold daily, as many joined it from the pagan multitude and from the other heresies.

About this time, we have received, the Indians of the interior, who had remained untouched by the preaching of Bartholomew, came to share in the doctrine through Frumentius, who became a priest and teacher of the sacred learning among them. So that we may know, from the wonder of what befell the Indians, that the doctrine of the Christians received its establishment not from men, as some think who tell marvels, it is necessary to relate the cause of Frumentius's ordination. It is as follows. The most esteemed philosophers among the Greeks made it a great concern to visit unknown cities and places. So Plato, the companion of Socrates, stayed among the Egyptians to learn what they knew. He also sailed to Sicily to see the craters there, in which fire bubbles up of itself continually as from a spring, and often overflows and runs like a river, devouring the neighbouring land, so that many fields still appear burned and receive neither seed nor planting of trees, as they report of the land of the Sodomites. Empedocles too, a man who practised philosophy brilliantly among the Greeks and treated his science in heroic verse, visited these craters. Being perplexed about the eruption of the fire, or having judged it better to die in this way, or, to put it more truly, perhaps not knowing himself why he devised such a departure from life before his time, he leaped into the fire and perished. Democritus of Cos too visited very many cities, climates, countries and nations, and he says somewhere of himself that he spent eighty years abroad. Besides these, countless others of the wise men among the Greeks, ancient and more recent, pursued this. Emulating them, a certain Meropius, a philosopher of Tyre in Phoenicia, went to the Indians. Two boys accompanied him, Frumentius and Aedesius, both related to him, whom he was leading through his studies and educating liberally. Having visited as much of India as he could, he set out on his return, finding a ship bound for Egypt. It happened that, for want of water or other necessities, the ship put in at a certain harbour, and the Indians there rushed down and killed everyone, including Meropius; for they had just then broken their treaty with the Romans. But taking pity on the boys because they were young, they took them alive and brought them to their king. He appointed the younger his cupbearer, and Frumentius steward of his household and manager of his property; for he saw that he was sensible and very capable at administration. When they had shown themselves useful and faithful for a long time, the king, dying and leaving a son and a wife, rewarded their goodwill with freedom and allowed them to live wherever they wished. They were eager to return to their families at Tyre. But since the king's son was still very young, his mother begged them both to stay a short time and govern the kingdom until the boy grew to manhood. Out of respect for the queen's entreaty they administered the palace and the government of the Indians. Frumentius, perhaps moved by divine manifestations, or God stirring him of his own accord, inquired whether there were any Christians among the Indians, or Romans among the merchants who sailed there. Seeking them out carefully, he called them to himself, welcomed and befriended them, and had them meet together for prayer and assemble as is the custom of the Romans; and in every way he encouraged them to honour the Divine, building houses of prayer. When the king's son was already reaching youth, they asked leave of him and of the queen, who thought it unbearable to be parted from them; having persuaded them, they departed as friends and came into the Roman dominions. Aedesius went to Tyre to see his family, and there was afterward made a presbyter. Frumentius, putting off for a time the journey to Phoenicia, came to Alexandria; for he thought it not right that zeal for divine things should take second place to country and family. Meeting Athanasius, who led the church of Alexandria, he told him about the Indians, and that they needed a bishop to care for the Christians there. Athanasius gathered the priests who were present, took counsel about this, and ordained Frumentius bishop of India, reckoning that he was most fit and able to make the religion great among those to whom he had first shown the name of Christian and given the seed of a share in the doctrine. Frumentius returned to the Indians and is said to have exercised the priesthood so gloriously that he was praised by all who had experience of him, and admired no less than the apostles. For God made him most renowned, working through him many wonderful healings, signs and wonders. Such was the beginning of the priesthood among the Indians.

Again the plots of his opponents stirred up trouble for Athanasius, created hatred against him with the emperor, and raised up a multitude of accusers. Troubled by them, the emperor ordered a synod to be held at Caesarea in Palestine. Athanasius was summoned to it but did not obey, fearing the scheming of Eusebius, bishop there, and of the bishop of Nicomedia and their party. At that time, though compelled to attend, he put it off for about thirty months. Afterward, being pressed more strongly, he came to Tyre. There many of the bishops of the East had gathered, and they ordered him to answer the charges. He was accused by Callinicus, a bishop of John's party, and by one Ischyrion, of having broken a mystic chalice and overthrown a bishop's throne; of having often imprisoned this Ischyrion, though he was a presbyter, and of having caused him to be put in prison by falsely accusing him before Hyginus, the prefect of Egypt, of throwing stones at the imperial statues; of having deposed Callinicus, who was bishop of the catholic church in Pelusium and had been in communion with Alexander, because, he said, Callinicus refused to communicate with him unless he was satisfied about the mystic chalice he was suspected of having broken; of having entrusted the church of Pelusium to one Mark, who had been deprived of the presbyterate; and of having made Callinicus himself suffer military custody, ill-treatment and lawsuits. Euplus, Pachomius, Isaac, Achillas and Hermaeon, bishops of John's party, accused him of beatings. All together accused him of having come into the episcopate through the perjury of certain men, when all had agreed to ordain no one until they had resolved the charges among themselves; and of having, when they were deceived and for this reason withdrew from communion with him, not thought fit to persuade them but used force and thrown them into prison. Besides this, the affair of Arsenius was stirred up again. And as usually happens in zealously pursued plots, unexpected accusers sprang up even from among those thought to be friends. A document of popular outcries was read, to the effect that the people of Alexandria would not attend church because of him. Athanasius, ordered to defend himself, came often before the court; he cleared himself of some of the charges, and for others asked for a postponement for inquiry. He was greatly at a loss, seeing that the accusers were in favour with the judges, that many witnesses against him had been made ready from among those who held the views of Arius and Melitius, and that the false accusers were pardoned on the charges in which he prevailed: especially in the charge about Arsenius, whose arm he was accused of cutting off for sorcery, and that about a woman, to whom he was charged with having given gifts for lewdness and with having violated her at night against her will. Each charge was found ridiculous and full of falsehood. For when the woman was making these accusations before the assembled bishops, Timothy, a presbyter of Alexandria, who was standing by Athanasius, by secret agreement with him took up the word and said to the woman: “Woman, was it I who violated you?” She answered, “Was it not you?”, naming the time and place where she had supposedly been violated. He also brought Arsenius into the midst, showed the judges both his hands whole, and asked them to make the accusers answer for the arm they had produced. For this Arsenius, either driven by God or, as is said, hidden by those plotting against Athanasius, when someone told him that the bishop was in danger on his account, had run away by night and come down to Tyre the day before the trial. When both charges had been disposed of in this way, so that no defence was needed, the first, as I think, on the pretext that so shameful and ridiculous a matter ought not to be recorded at a synod, is not included in the acts. On the second, it sufficed the accusers by way of defence to say that a certain Plusianus, a bishop under Athanasius, had at his command burned the house of Arsenius, tied him to a pillar, scourged him with thongs, and shut him up in a small room; that he had escaped through a window; and that since he was being sought, he had hidden for a time, and when he did not appear was naturally thought to be dead; and that the bishops of John's party had sought him, as a distinguished man and a confessor, by going to the magistrates. Reflecting on all this, Athanasius was greatly afraid; at the same time he suspected that those plotting against him would find an opportunity and kill him secretly. After many sessions, when the assembly was filled with uproar and confusion, and the accusers and the crowd about the court were shouting that he must be put out of the way by every means as a sorcerer, a man of violence, and unworthy of the priesthood, those who had been ordered by the emperor to attend the synod for the sake of good order feared that the crowd would rush on him in a riot and lay hands on him, and they secretly led him out of the court. Reckoning that it was neither without danger for him to stay in Tyre nor safe to stand trial against a multitude of accusers before hostile judges, he fled to Constantinople. The synod condemned him in his absence, deposed him from the episcopate, and voted that he should no longer live in Alexandria, lest, as they said, by his presence he should cause tumults and disturbances. They received John and all those with him into communion, as having suffered unjustly, and restored to each his rank in the clergy. They reported what had been done to the emperor, and wrote to the bishops everywhere not to give him communion, nor to write to him, nor to receive letters from him, as one convicted in the charges they had heard, and condemned by his flight in those not contested. In the letter they declared that they had been led to such a vote: first, because they were angry that when the emperor had ordered the bishops of the East to meet at Caesarea in the previous year on his account, he did not come, though he saw the synod kept waiting for a long time, and despised the ruler's commands; and that when more of them met at Tyre, he came with a crowd and caused disturbances and tumults in the synod, at times rejecting the defences, at times insulting each of the bishops, at other times not answering when called, and sometimes refusing to be tried. They announced that he had been clearly convicted of breaking the mystic chalice, citing as witnesses to this Theognis, bishop of Nicaea, Maris of Chalcedon, Theodore of Heraclea, Valens, Ursacius and Macedonius, whom they had sent to Egypt to go to the village where the chalice was said to have been broken and find out the truth. Such was what they wrote, touching each charge in a lawyer's manner and eager, as if by some art, to construct an accusation. That this judgment was not sound appeared to many of the priests present as well. It is said that Paphnutius the confessor, who was present at this synod, took Maximus, bishop of Jerusalem, by the hand and made him rise, saying that it was not right for them, being confessors who had had their eyes put out and their knees maimed for piety, to take part in an assembly of wicked men.

Meanwhile, about the thirtieth year of Constantine's reign, when the church in Jerusalem at the place of the Skull, which is called the great Martyrium, had been completed, Marianus, a man of rank and an imperial secretary, came to Tyre and delivered to the synod a letter of the emperor bidding them go quickly to Jerusalem and consecrate the church. He had planned this before, but thought it necessary that the bishops should first meet at Tyre and settle their differences with one another, and so, cleansed of dissension and grief, proceed to the dedication of the church; for the concord of the priests was fitting for such a festival. They came to Jerusalem and consecrated the church, together with the treasures and offerings sent by the emperor, which are still kept in this holy house and cause great wonder to those who see them because of their costliness and size. From that time the church of Jerusalem has kept this as a yearly feast with great splendour, so that initiations are performed at it and assemblies held for eight days in succession; and many come together from almost every land under the sun, who run together from everywhere at the time of this festival to visit the holy places.

At that time the bishops who held the views of Arius seized the opportunity and worked to have a synod held at Jerusalem and to give communion to Arius and Euzoius. They took courage to do this on the following pretext. There was a presbyter on familiar terms with the emperor's sister, who approved of the doctrines of Arius. At first it was not known that he held these views. But when, over a long time, he had made himself more intimate with Constantia, for that was the name of Constantine's sister, he took the liberty of speaking freely to her and complained that Arius was unjustly exiled from his country and expelled from the church, having been cast out by Alexander, who governed the church of the Alexandrians, through envy and personal enmity. “For seeing him esteemed by the people,” he said, “he was jealous of him.” Constantia was persuaded that this was true, but while she lived she made no attempt to alter what had been decided at Nicaea. When she fell ill and was suspected to be dying, she asked her brother, who had come to her, to grant her a last favour, whatever she might ask. She asked that he keep this presbyter as one of his household and trust him as one who held right views about the Divine. For herself, she said, she was departing and had no further care for life here; but she feared for him, lest he suffer something through divine wrath, either faring ill himself or shamefully losing his rule, since, she said, he had been unjustly persuaded by some to punish just and good men with perpetual exile. From then on the emperor became very intimate with this presbyter, gave him freedom of speech, and, sharing with him what his sister had charged, he thought he ought to examine the case of Arius again, naturally suspecting that the accusations against him might be slanders, or else wishing to please his sister. Not long after, he recalled Arius from exile and ordered him to give a written statement of what he believed about God. Arius, avoiding the novelty of the terms he had earlier devised, wove another exposition, using simple expressions known from the sacred books, and swore an oath that he truly believed so, held these views in his mind, and thought nothing other than these. It reads as follows: “To our most pious and God-beloved lord Constantine, Arius and Euzoius, presbyters. As your God-beloved Piety commanded, lord emperor, we set out our own faith in writing, and we confess before God that we and all who are with us believe as is written below. We believe in one God, the Father almighty, and in the Lord Jesus Christ his Son, begotten from him before all ages, God the Word, through whom all things came into being, both in heaven and on earth; who came and took flesh, suffered, rose again, ascended into heaven, and is coming again to judge the living and the dead. And in the Holy Spirit, and in the resurrection of the flesh, and in the life of the age to come, and in the kingdom of heaven, and in one catholic church of God, from one end of the earth to the other. This faith we have received from the holy Gospels, the Lord saying to his disciples: ‘Go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.’ If we do not believe these things so and truly accept the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, as the whole catholic church and the holy Scriptures teach, as we believe in all respects, God is our judge both now and in the coming day. Therefore we entreat your Piety, our most God-beloved emperor, that we, who are churchmen and hold the faith and mind of the church and of the holy Scriptures, may be united through your peacemaking and godly Piety to our mother, the church, the questions and the superfluous arguments arising from the questions being removed, so that we and the church, at peace with one another, may all together offer the customary prayers for your peaceful and pious reign and for your whole family.” Some said that this statement of faith had been composed artfully, differing in appearance from Arius's doctrines in its expressions but agreeing with them even so in the sense of the terms, which allowed one to equivocate and take them in either meaning. The emperor, supposing that Arius and Euzoius held views like those of the bishops who had met at Nicaea, was pleased with the matter. Yet he did not take it upon himself to receive them into communion before the judgment and examination of those who had authority in this, according to the law of the church. He sent them to the bishops then gathered at Jerusalem, writing that their exposition of faith should be examined, and that the synod should give a humane verdict on them, whether they were found to hold right views and to have been plotted against out of envy, or whether, having nothing to object to in what had already been decided about them, they had repented. Seizing the opportunity, having long been eager for this, they received them into communion on the pretext of the emperor's letter. When they had done this, they wrote to the emperor himself, to the church of Alexandria, and to the bishops and clergy throughout Egypt, the Thebaid and Libya, urging them to receive them readily, since the emperor had borne witness that their faith, which they had set down in their own letter, was right, and the synod had confirmed the emperor's judgment. Such were the efforts made at Jerusalem.

Athanasius, fleeing from Tyre, came to Constantinople; and approaching the emperor Constantine, he lamented what he had suffered, in the presence of the bishops who had condemned him, and asked that the decisions made at Tyre be examined before the emperor himself. Constantine, judging the request reasonable, wrote as follows to the bishops who had met at Tyre: “I do not know what was decided by your synod amid tumult and storm. But it seems that the truth has somehow been perverted by some disorderly confusion, because of your contentiousness toward your neighbours, which you wish to be unconquerable, while you do not see what is pleasing to God. But it will be the work of divine providence both to scatter the evils of this rivalry, plainly exposed, and to show us clearly whether, when you met there, you took any thought for the truth, and whether you judged what you judged without favour or enmity. Therefore I wish all of you to come with haste to my Piety, so that you may present the exact account of what you did in our own presence as well. Why I have thought it right to write this to you, and summon you to me by letter, you will learn from what follows. As I was entering our namesake and most happy city of Constantinople, and was riding on horseback at the time, suddenly Athanasius the bishop, with some others whom he had with him, came up to me in the middle of the road so unexpectedly as to give cause for astonishment. For God, who oversees all, is my witness that I did not recognize who he was at first sight, until some of our people, when we asked, told us, as was natural, both who he was and the injustice he had suffered. At that time I neither conversed with him nor shared in any talk. When he kept asking, and I refused and was almost ordering him to be driven away, he asked of us with greater boldness nothing else than that your coming should be granted, so that he might in your presence lament what he had suffered under compulsion. Since this seemed reasonable and fitting to the times, I gladly ordered this letter to be written to you, so that all of you who made up the synod held at Tyre may hasten without delay to the court of our Clemency, to show by the deeds themselves the purity and integrity of your judgment before me, whom you would not deny to be a true servant of God. For through my service to God everything everywhere is at peace, and the very barbarians, who until now did not know the truth, truly bless the name of God. Plainly, one who does not know the truth does not know God either. Yet, as has been said, even the barbarians have now come to know God through me, the true servant of God, and have learned to reverence him, whom they have perceived by the deeds themselves to shield me and care for me everywhere. Hence, above all, they know God, whom they reverence out of fear of us. But we, who are thought to set forth (I would not say guard) the mysteries of his kindness, we, I say, do nothing but what tends to dissension and hatred, and, to put it simply, what leads to the destruction of the human race. Hasten, then, as has been said, come to us all of you with all speed, persuaded that I shall try with all my strength to ensure that the things in the law of God are preserved especially without fault, to which neither blame nor any false opinion can attach, when the enemies of the law, who under some pretence of the holy name put forward various and manifold blasphemies, have been scattered, utterly crushed and entirely destroyed.” When the emperor had written this, the others were afraid and went home; but Eusebius, bishop of Nicomedia, and his party came to the emperor and insisted that the synod at Tyre had voted justly concerning Athanasius. Bringing forward as witnesses Theognis, Maris, Theodore, Valens and Ursacius, they convinced him that Athanasius had broken a mystic chalice; and with many other abuses they prevailed by their slanders. The emperor, either believing these things true, or supposing that the bishops would at last be of one mind if Athanasius were out of the way, ordered him to live at Trier among the western Gauls; and he was taken away.

After the synod at Jerusalem, Arius came to Egypt. When the church of Alexandria would not communicate with him, he came again to Constantinople. Those who held the same views and those who followed Eusebius, bishop of Nicomedia, purposely gathered there by themselves and were preparing to hold a synod; Alexander, who then governed the see of Constantinople, perceived their aim and tried to break up the synod. When this did not succeed, he openly refused to make peace with Arius, saying that it was neither lawful nor ecclesiastical to annul their own vote and that of those who had met with them at Nicaea from almost every land under the sun. When Eusebius's party could not persuade Alexander by words at first, they behaved insolently toward him and declared with threats that if he did not receive Arius by a set day, he himself would be expelled from the church and live in exile, and his successor would communicate with Arius. On these terms they then parted: they waiting for the appointed day to carry out their threats, and Alexander praying that the words of Eusebius would not come to pass. The emperor made him most afraid, since he had in some way been persuaded to give way. On the day before the appointed day Alexander went in under the altar and lay all night face down, begging God that the accomplishment of what had been plotted against him might be prevented. On that day, toward late evening, Arius was going somewhere when his bowels were suddenly moved; under pressure of need he came to a public place set apart for such use. When he did not come out for a long time, some of those waiting for him outside went in and found him lying dead on the seat. When this became known, not everyone held the same view about his death. Some thought that he had been seized by a sudden disease of the heart, or had suffered a stroke from joy at things turning out as he wished, and had died on the spot; others, that he had paid the penalty for impiety. Those who held his views spread the story that the man had been killed by sorcery. It is not out of place to bring forward what Athanasius, bishop of Alexandria, said about him. It reads as follows.

“For Arius himself, the leader of the heresy and Eusebius's associate, was summoned at that time, at the urging of Eusebius's party, by the blessed Constantine Augustus, and, being required to state his faith in writing, the crafty man wrote, hiding the shameless expressions of his impiety, and, like the devil, pretending to use the words of the Scriptures simply, as they are written. Then, when the blessed Constantine said, ‘If you have nothing else in your mind besides these, take the truth as witness; for the Lord himself will avenge you if you swear falsely,’ the wretch swore that he neither held nor thought anything besides what was now written, although things had once been said by him. But immediately on going out, as if paying the penalty, he fell, and falling headlong he burst open in the middle. Death is the common end of life for all people, and one must not trample on anyone, even if the one who has died is an enemy, since it is uncertain whether the same will not overtake oneself before evening. But since the end of Arius did not happen in an ordinary way, for this reason it is worth relating. When Eusebius's party were threatening to bring him into the church, Alexander, bishop of Constantinople, opposed it; but Arius was confident in the violence and threats of Eusebius. For it was Saturday, and he expected to be received into the assembly the next day. There was a great contest, they threatening, Alexander praying. But the Lord, becoming judge, gave his award against those who did wrong. For the sun had not yet set, and need having drawn him to a place, he fell there, and was at once deprived of both, communion and life. The blessed Constantine, hearing of it, was amazed, knowing that he had been convicted of perjury. And it then became plain to all that the threats of Eusebius's party had failed and the hope of Arius had become vain. It was shown again that the Arian madness had been excluded from communion by the Saviour, both here and in the church of the firstborn. Who then would not marvel, seeing these men contending to justify one whom the Lord condemned, and seeing them championing the heresy which the Lord has proved excluded from communion, not allowing its leader to come into the church?” This is how we have received that Arius died. It is said that for a long time no one used the seat on which he died. Since people crowd into a public place because of need, as happens in a multitude, and those who went in warned one another to avoid the seat, the place was shunned by those who came later, as Arius had paid the penalty for impiety there. Some time later, one of those who held his views, a man of wealth and power, made efforts to buy this place from the public authority and built a house there, demolishing the former structure, so that the people would forget, and Arius's death would not be mocked by the handing on of such a memory.

But not even with Arius's death did the inquiry into the doctrines he had devised come to an end, nor did those who held his views cease plotting against those of the opposite opinion. For instance, although the people of Alexandria kept crying out and entreating in litanies for the return of Athanasius, and Antony the great monk often wrote about him and begged the emperor not to believe the Melitians but to regard their accusations as slanders, the emperor was not persuaded. He wrote to the Alexandrians accusing them of folly and disorder, and ordered the clergy and the holy virgins to keep quiet; and he insisted that he would not change his mind or recall Athanasius, as a seditious man condemned by an ecclesiastical judgment. To Antony he replied that he could not disregard the vote of the synod. “For even if a few,” he said, “judged out of enmity or favour, it is surely not credible that so great a number of learned and good bishops came to the same opinion; for Athanasius is insolent and arrogant, and a cause of dissension and strife.” For his opponents slandered him chiefly on these points, since the emperor exceedingly detested such people. At that time, for instance, learning that the church was divided in two, some admiring Athanasius and others John, he was greatly incensed and exiled John himself. This was the man who had succeeded Melitius, and who had been directed by the synod of Tyre to be in communion with the church and, with those of his opinion, to keep the honours of their own clerical ranks. This turned out contrary to the wishes of Athanasius's enemies; but it happened nonetheless, and the decisions of those who had met at Tyre were of no help to John. For the emperor was proof against entreaty and every kind of plea toward anyone suspected of stirring up the Christian people to strife or dissension.

The doctrine of Arius, though it was pursued by many in debates, had not yet been separated into a people of its own or into the name of its founder; all assembled and communicated together, except the Novatians, those called Phrygians, the Valentinians, Marcionites and Paulianists, and any others who made up other heresies already devised. Against all these the emperor enacted a law, ordering that their houses of prayer be taken from them and joined to the churches, and that they should not assemble either in private houses or in public; he recommended that it was better to be in communion with the catholic church and advised them to join it. Through this law, I think, the memory of these heresies has largely disappeared. For under the earlier emperors all who worshipped Christ, even if they differed in their opinions, were regarded by the pagans as the same and suffered ill alike. Because of their common misfortunes they could not busy themselves about one another, and so each group easily met by itself and held assemblies, and by constant intercourse with one another, even if they were few, they were not dissolved. But after this law they could not assemble in public, being forbidden, nor in secret, since the bishops and clergy in each city kept watch. From then on most of them, in fear, joined the catholic church; others, who remained of the same opinion, died without leaving successors to their heresy, since they were neither allowed to meet together nor able to teach those of their opinion freely. Indeed, from the beginning the other heresies had few followers, either because of the perversity of their doctrines or because of the worthlessness of their founders and teachers. But those who held the views of Novatus, having had good leaders and holding the same views about the Divine as the catholic church, were numerous from the beginning and remained so, suffering no great harm from this law. For, as I think, the emperor himself willingly relaxed it, intending only to frighten his subjects, not to ruin them. Acesius too, then bishop of their sect at Constantinople, being in favour with the emperor because of his life, naturally helped the church under him. The Phrygians throughout the rest of the empire suffered like the others, except in Phrygia and the neighbouring peoples, where they had been numerous since the times of Montanus, and still are. About this time the party of Eusebius, bishop of Nicomedia, and Theognis of Nicaea began in writing to innovate on the exposition of those who had met at Nicaea. They did not dare to reject openly that the Son is of the same essence as the Father, for they knew the emperor held this view. But setting out another document, they announced to the bishops of the East that they had accepted the terms of the Nicene doctrine on certain stated interpretations. From this wording and sense the former inquiry, which had seemed to have ceased, fell into debate and was stirred up again.

At that time also they met at Constantinople and deposed Marcellus, bishop of Ancyra in Galatia, as an introducer of new doctrines, saying that the Son of God took his beginning from Mary and that his kingdom will have an end, and that he had composed a book on this; they expelled him from the church and entrusted the episcopate of the Galatian church to Basil, a powerful speaker esteemed for his learning. They wrote to the churches there to search out Marcellus's book and destroy it, and to bring over any whom they found holding the same views. Because of the length of the work, they said, they had not appended the whole book, but they inserted certain passages in their letter to prove that he held these views. Some said, however, that Marcellus had said these things as part of an inquiry, and that Eusebius's party had misrepresented them to the emperor himself as his confessed opinions; for they were exceedingly angry with him because he had not agreed with what they had defined at the synod in Phoenicia, nor at Jerusalem concerning Arius, nor taken part in the dedication of the great Martyrium, to avoid communion with them. Indeed, writing about him to the emperor, they brought this forward too as a slander, as though the emperor himself had been insulted by him, since he had not seen fit to honour the dedication of the church built in Jerusalem. The occasion of this book of Marcellus was Asterius, a sophist from Cappadocia, who, writing treatises about the doctrine that agreed with the opinion of Arius, went round the cities giving readings of them, and was generally present among the bishops and at the synods that were held. For in contradicting him, Marcellus, either willingly or not understanding it so, rolled into the opinion of Paul of Samosata. But at the synod of Sardica he later recovered his see, having shown that he did not hold these views.

The emperor had already divided the empire among his sons, who were Caesars, assigning the West to Constantine and Constans and the East to Constantius. Falling ill in body, he went to Helenopolis in Bithynia to use the natural hot baths. Becoming worse, he was carried to Nicomedia. While staying there in a suburb, he was initiated into holy baptism; he rejoiced greatly at this and gave thanks to God. Making a will, he divided the empire among his sons as before. Leaving privileges to the elder Rome and to his namesake city, he gave the will to the presbyter whom his sister Constantia, when dying, had commended to him, an admirer of Arius but good in his life; and adding an oath, he charged him to give it to Constantius when he arrived. For neither he nor any other of the Caesars was with their father when he died. Having given this charge, he lived a few days more and died, about sixty-five years old, having reigned thirty-one of them. He was above all a supporter of the Christian religion, so that he was the first emperor to begin to show zeal for the church and to bring it to the height of its growth. He was successful, as I do not know whether anyone else has been, in what he undertook; for without God, it seems to me, he undertook nothing. He prevailed in the wars that befell him against the Goths and Sarmatians; he reshaped the state as he wished so easily as to establish another senate and an imperial city named after himself; and as soon as he undertook it he overthrew in a short time the pagan religion, which had been cherished by rulers and subjects for so long. When he died, his body was carried to Constantinople in a golden coffin and laid on a platform in the palace. The same honour and ceremony were paid to him by those in the palace as when he was alive. When Constantius learned of his father's death, which was soon reported to him while he was staying in the East, he hastened to Constantinople, and, after a royal funeral, buried him in the church named after the apostles, where Constantine himself had prepared his tomb while he lived. From that time, as if a custom had begun, the Christian emperors who have died since in Constantinople are laid there; and not only they but bishops too, since the priesthood is of equal honour with the kingship, or rather, in holy places, even holds the first place.

Such were the events that befell the churches in the reign of Constantine. After his death the doctrine of those who had met at Nicaea was again brought into question. For though not all accepted it, while Constantine was still alive no one dared openly to reject it. But when he died, many departed from this opinion; these were those who had earlier been suspected of betraying it. Of all, Eusebius and Theognis of Bithynia made the greatest efforts to make the opinion of Arius prevail. They thought they could easily achieve this if they prevented Athanasius's return from exile and handed over the churches of Egypt to one of their own opinion. They planned these things with the help of the presbyter who had been responsible under Constantine for the recall of Arius. For he was also in favour with the emperor Constantius, since he had preserved his father's will for him. Being trusted, he gained freedom of speech and became familiar even with the emperor's wife and with the powerful eunuchs of the bedchamber. Eusebius was then head of the imperial household; having become a supporter of Arius's opinion, he brought the empress and many of those about the palace to share his views. From then on there were frequent debates about the doctrine again, in private and in public, and with them insults and hatreds; and things went as Theognis's party wished.

Meanwhile Athanasius too returned from western Gaul to Alexandria. Constantine, while alive, had intended to recall him, and is said to have wished this in his will as well. Since he died before doing so, his namesake son, who ruled the western Gauls, allowed him to return, giving him a letter to the people of Alexandria. Having found it translated from the Latin, I have set it down as I found it. It reads as follows: “Constantine Caesar to the people of the catholic church of the city of Alexandria. I think it has not escaped the knowledge of your holy mind that Athanasius, the interpreter of the venerable law, was sent for a time to the Gauls so that, since the savagery of his bloodthirsty and hostile enemies persisted to the danger of his sacred head, he might not suffer irreparable harm through the perversity of wicked men. To frustrate this, he was snatched from the jaws of the men who were pressing upon him, and was ordered to live under my care in such a way that in this city where he was staying he had all necessities in abundance; though indeed his celebrated virtue, trusting in divine help, makes light even of the burdens of harsher fortune. Our lord, of blessed memory, Constantine Augustus, my father, had intended to restore this same bishop to his own place, to your most beloved Godliness; but since he was overtaken by the human lot and went to rest before fulfilling his wish, I thought it fitting, as his successor, to fulfil the purpose of the emperor of divine memory. When he comes into your presence, you will learn how much respect he has received from me. Nor is it surprising if I have done anything for him; for both the image of your longing and the bearing of so great a man moved and urged my soul to this. May divine providence preserve you, beloved brothers.” Having obtained his return by this letter of the emperor, Athanasius governed the churches of Egypt. But those who held the views of Arius took this hard and would not keep quiet. From then on frequent disturbances were stirred up, which again gave a pretext for other plots against Athanasius. For Eusebius's party eagerly slandered him to the emperor as seditious, and as having allowed himself to return against the laws of the church, without a judgment of bishops. How through their plotting he was driven again from Alexandria, I shall tell shortly in its proper order. About this time Eusebius son of Pamphilus died, and Acacius succeeded to the episcopate of Caesarea in Palestine. Having the same zeal as Eusebius himself, and having been taught the sacred writings under him, he was able in thought and elegant in expression, so that he left many writings worth mentioning. Not long afterward the emperor Constantine, making war on his own brother Constans near Aquileia, was killed by Constans's generals. The Roman empire fell, in the West, to Constans, and in the East, to Constantius.

Meanwhile, Alexander having died, Paul succeeded to the high priesthood of Constantinople: as those who hold the views of Arius and Macedonius say, having obtained it for himself against the wishes of Eusebius, bishop of Nicomedia, and Theodore of Heraclea in Thrace, to whom, as neighbours, the ordination belonged; but as the common account has it, he was ordained by the bishops staying in the city on the testimony of Alexander, whom he succeeded. For Alexander, who was already ninety-eight years old, twenty-three of which he had spent bravely in the episcopate, when he was about to die and the clergy asked him to whom they should entrust the church after him, said: “If you seek a man good in divine things and able to teach as well, you have Paul; but if one for outward affairs and dealings with magistrates, Macedonius is better.” Even the admirers of Macedonius agree that both were so testified to by Alexander. They say that Paul was skilled in business and in speaking, but they attribute the testimony about character to Macedonius; and they accuse Paul of having given himself to luxury and an indifferent way of life. From their own admission, then, it appears that Paul was an eloquent man and a brilliant teacher in the church; but as to the reverses of life and dealings with the powerful, events bear witness that he handled them badly. For he broke up none of the plots of those who rose against him, as those skilled in such matters naturally do. Although he was exceedingly loved by the people, he suffered ill through the scheming of those who then rejected the doctrine that had prevailed at Nicaea. First he was accused of not having lived well and was expelled from the church of Constantinople; in the end he was condemned to live in exile, and is said to have died pitiably by strangling, his enemies having contrived his murder. But this happened later.

At this time very great turmoil seized the church of Constantinople because of this ordination. While Alexander was alive, those who held the views of Arius had little freedom of speech; the people looked to him and were guided by him, and held right belief about the Divine, especially after the unexpected disaster of Arius, whose death in the manner described they believed to have come by divine wrath through the virtues of Alexander. But when he died, the people were divided in two and came to open battle in strife over doctrines. Those who followed the views of Arius were eager that Macedonius should be ordained, and those who held the Son to be of the same essence as the Father, that Paul should be bishop; and this prevailed. After Paul's ordination the emperor arrived, for he happened to be away at the time, and was angry that the episcopate had been entrusted to an unworthy man. At the instigation of those hostile to Paul he convened a synod, drove him from the church, and handed over the see of Constantinople to Eusebius, bishop of Nicomedia.

Having done this, he came to Antioch in Syria. The church there, of extraordinary size and beauty, which Constantine had begun to build while still alive, using his son Constantius as his helper, had now been completed; and it seemed to Eusebius's party, who had long been eager for this, the right moment to hold a synod. They, and others of the same views, ninety-seven bishops in all, gathered at Antioch from many places, ostensibly for the dedication of the new church, but, as the outcome showed, to alter what had been decided at Nicaea. Placetus was then leading the church of Antioch after Euphronius. It was the fifth year since the death of Constantine the Great. When all the bishops had gathered, and the emperor Constantius was also present, most of them were indignant and fiercely accused Athanasius of having disregarded a priestly ordinance which they themselves had made, and of having taken back the church of Alexandria before being permitted by a synod. On this ground they also said he was the cause of the death of citizens, since when he entered the city a disturbance had arisen, and many had been killed and others handed over to the courts. When the greatest slander had been woven against Athanasius by such arguments, they voted that Gregory should head the church of Alexandria. Then, passing to the inquiry about the doctrine, they found no fault with what had been decided at Nicaea; but they sent letters to the bishops in the cities declaring that, being bishops, they had not followed Arius, for how could they follow one who was a presbyter? but that, having become examiners of his faith, they had rather received him; and that they believed according to the faith handed down from the beginning. This, they said, was the one they appended to their letter, which made no mention at all of the essence of the Father or of the Son, or of the term “of the same essence,” but equivocated in its meaning, so that neither those who held the views of Arius nor those who followed the synod of Nicaea could attack the composition of its words as unknown to the sacred Scriptures. For leaving out what each side did not accept, they put into this document the terms acknowledged by both. They agreed that the Son is with the Father, is only-begotten and God, exists before all things, took flesh and fulfilled the Father's will, and other things likewise; but whether he is co-eternal or of the same essence with the Father, or the contrary, they did not write. Having changed their minds, it seems, about this document, they set out another besides it, in other respects, as I think, agreeing with the doctrine of those who met at Nicaea, unless some meaning unknown to me lies hidden in the words. I do not know why, having refused to call the Son of the same essence, they declared him unchangeable and unalterable in his divinity, the exact image of the essence, will, power and glory, and the firstborn of all creation. They said they had found this creed written in the hand of Lucian, who was martyred at Nicomedia, a man most highly esteemed in other respects and who had studied the sacred Scriptures with the greatest exactness; but whether they said this truly, or were dignifying their own document by the martyr's reputation, I cannot say. Taking part in this synod were not only Eusebius, who, after Paul had been expelled, had moved from Nicomedia and held the see of Constantinople, but also Acacius, Eusebius son of Pamphilus's successor, Patrophilus of Scythopolis, Theodore of Heraclea, formerly called Perinthus, Eudoxius of Germanicia, who later, after Macedonius, was entrusted with the church of Constantinople, and Gregory, who had been chosen to head the church of Alexandria. These were then acknowledged to hold the same views as one another. There were also Dianius, bishop of Caesarea in Cappadocia, George of Laodicea in Syria, and many others who were bishops of metropolitan or otherwise notable churches.

With them was also Eusebius, surnamed of Emesa. By birth he was of a noble family of Edessa in Osrhoene. From youth he learned the sacred writings according to the custom of his country, and afterward he was taught the learning of the Greeks too, attending the teachers who were there at that time. Later he studied the divine books thoroughly under the interpreters Eusebius son of Pamphilus and Patrophilus, who presided over Scythopolis. Coming to Antioch, when Eustathius happened to be deposed on the accusation of Cyrus, he was in the company of Euphronius, his successor. Fleeing from the priesthood, he went to Alexandria and attended the philosophers there; and having been trained in their learning, he returned to Antioch and again spent his time with Placetus, the successor of Euphronius. When this synod was being held there, he was proposed for the see of Alexandria by Eusebius, bishop of Constantinople. For Eusebius thought that, being very good at public affairs and a most powerful speaker, he would easily turn the Egyptians from their goodwill toward Athanasius. But when he declined this ordination, reckoning that he would find ready hatred among the Alexandrians, who would not bear to see another in place of Athanasius, Gregory was entrusted with the church of Alexandria and he himself with that of Emesa. There he suffered a riot, for he was accused of practising the part of astronomy they call judicial; he fled to Laodicea, to George, the bishop there, who was his friend. George went with him to Antioch and arranged, through the bishops Placetus and Narcissus, for him to return to Emesa. He was in favour with the emperor Constantius; for instance, when the emperor was about to march against the Persians, he took him with him. For it is said that the Divine worked many wonders through him, as George of Laodicea bears witness, who relates these and other things about him. But though he was such a man, he did not escape the envy of those whose nature is to be pained at the virtues of others; he too incurred the charge of holding the views of Sabellius. At this time he voted with those who met at Antioch. Maximus, bishop of Jerusalem, is said to have deliberately avoided this synod, because he repented that, having been deceived, he had voted with those who deposed Athanasius. Nor did he who governed the see of Rome, nor any of the other Italians or of those beyond the Romans, come there. Meanwhile, when the Franks were ravaging the western Gauls, and the East was being shaken by very great earthquakes, especially the city of Antioch, after the synod there, Gregory came to Alexandria with a multitude of soldiers, who had been ordered to see that his entry should be without disturbance and safe. Those who held the views of Arius helped them in this and in driving out Athanasius. Athanasius feared that the people might suffer something on his account. When night came on he was holding an assembly; and when the soldiers had already occupied the church, he finished the prayer and first ordered a psalm to be sung. While the psalm was being sung in unison, the soldiers kept quiet for a time, since it was not a fitting moment to attack. Meanwhile, slipping out among those singing, he went out unnoticed and sailed up to Rome. Gregory took possession of the see of Alexandria; and the people, enraged, set fire to the church named after Dionysius, who had been bishop there.

In this way the plans of those of the opposing sect succeeded: those who zealously championed in the East the doctrine confirmed at Nicaea had been deposed, and since they had already seized the most illustrious sees, of Alexandria in Egypt, of Antioch in Syria, and of the imperial city by the Hellespont, they had the bishops throughout these regions obedient to them. But the bishop of the church of Rome and the priests of the West regarded these things as an insult to themselves. For they had approved from the beginning the vote of those who met at Nicaea in everything, and had not ceased to hold this view even now; and when Athanasius came to them, they received him kindly and drew his case to themselves. Eusebius, vexed at this, wrote to Julius that he should be judge of what had been decided about Athanasius at Tyre. But before learning Julius's decision, he died, not long after the synod held at Antioch. Those at Constantinople who were zealous for the doctrine set out at Nicaea brought Paul into the church. At the same time, as those of the opposite party joined together, the party of Theognis, bishop of Nicaea, and Theodore of Heraclea, and others of their views who happened to be in the city, met in another church and ordained Macedonius bishop of Constantinople. From then on frequent disturbances like wars arose in the city; for the people clashed with each other on both sides, very many were killed, and the city was full of turmoil, so that the emperor, then at Antioch, learning of this and being moved to anger, ordered Paul to be driven out again. The emperor's orders were carried out by Hermogenes, the general in command of the cavalry. Being sent at that time to Thrace and passing through Constantinople, he tried to drive Paul from the church by means of soldiers. When the people would not allow it, and in some measure defended him, and the soldiers tried to carry out the order more violently, the people seized Hermogenes's house, set it on fire, killed him, tied a rope to him and dragged him through the city. When the emperor heard of it, he rode on horseback to Constantinople to punish the people. But he spared them when he saw them meeting him in tears and entreating him; he deprived the city of about half the grain which his father Constantine had given each year from the public stores to the citizens out of the taxes of Egypt, supposing perhaps that the many, idle from luxury and ease, were ready for riots. He turned his anger on Paul and ordered him to be driven from the city. He was also angry with Macedonius, as the cause of the death of the general and of many others, and because he had been ordained before he gave permission; and neither confirming his ordination nor annulling it, he left matters so and returned to Antioch. Meanwhile the zealots for the opinion of Arius removed Gregory, as negligent in establishing their doctrine and disliked by the Alexandrians because of the hardships that befell the city at his entry and the burning of the church. In his place George was sent, a Cappadocian by race, who was admired as a man of action and was zealous for this doctrine.

Athanasius, fleeing from Alexandria, came to Rome. At the same time Paul, bishop of Constantinople, happened to arrive there too, and Marcellus of Ancyra, and Asclepas of Gaza, who, being opposed to the Arians, had been accused by some of a different opinion of having overturned an altar and had been deposed; in his place Quintianus was entrusted with the church of Gaza. Lucius too, bishop of Adrianople, accused on another charge and deprived of his church, was living in Rome. The bishop of the Romans, having learned the charges against each, and finding them all in agreement with the doctrine of the synod of Nicaea, admitted them into communion as of the same faith. And since the care of all belonged to him because of the dignity of his see, he restored to each his own church. He wrote to the bishops in the East, blaming them for not having judged rightly about these men and for troubling the churches by not abiding by what had been decided at Nicaea. He ordered a few of them all to be present on a set day to prove that they had passed a just sentence on them; otherwise he threatened that he would not tolerate them in future if they did not stop innovating. So he wrote. Athanasius and Paul each recovered his see, and sent Julius's letters to the bishops in the East. These took them hard; and gathering at Antioch, they wrote back to Julius a letter elegantly phrased and composed in a lawyer's manner, full of much irony and not without the most terrible threats. In the letter they acknowledged that the church of the Romans was held in honour by all, as having been from the beginning the school of the apostles and the metropolis of piety, even though the introducers of the doctrine had settled there from the East. But they did not think that on this account they should take second place, since, if they did not surpass it in the size or numbers of their church, they excelled it in virtue and purpose. Bringing as a charge against Julius his communion with Athanasius's party, they were indignant that their synod had been insulted and its sentence annulled, and they denounced what had been done as unjust and contrary to church law. After complaining in this way and protesting that they had suffered wrong, they promised peace and communion to Julius if he accepted the deposition of those they had driven out and the appointment of those ordained in their place; but if he opposed what had been decided, they announced the contrary. For they insisted that the priests in the East before them had made no objection when Novatian was driven from the church of the Romans. About what had been done concerning the decisions of those who met at Nicaea they wrote him nothing in reply, declaring that they had many reasons for a necessary defence of what had happened, but saying that it was superfluous to defend themselves on these matters now, since they had been suspected of doing wrong in everything at once.

Such was what they wrote to Julius. To the emperor Constantius they again denounced those they had deposed. He, then staying at Antioch, wrote to Philip, the prefect at Constantinople, to give the church back to Macedonius and to drive Paul from the city. The prefect, fearing a movement of the people, before the emperor's order became known, went to a public bath called Zeuxippus, a famous and very large one, and sent for Paul as if to consult him on public business. When he came, he at once showed him the emperor's letter; and ordering him to be led secretly through the palace next to the bath to the sea, he put him on a ship and sent him to Thessalonica, from where his ancestors were said to have come, and sentenced him to keep entirely out of the eastern part of the empire, though he did not forbid him to set foot in Illyricum and the lands beyond. Leaving the court, with Macedonius riding with him in his carriage, the prefect went to the church. The people (for, these things having already happened, countless numbers had gathered) at once filled the church; for both those of the Arian heresy and those who favoured Paul were eager to occupy it first. When the prefect, and Macedonius with him, came to the doors of the church, the crowd, pushed by the soldiers to make way for them, could not give way, since those in front were packed tight; and the soldiers, supposing that the mob would not yield willingly, killed many with their swords. Many too were trampled to death by one another. So what the emperor had decided was done, and Macedonius took over the churches. In this way Paul was unexpectedly deprived of the church of Constantinople. Athanasius, in flight, remained hidden, fearing the threat of the emperor Constantius. For he had threatened to punish him with death, since those of another opinion accused him of causing riots and said that many had died when he entered the city. What most moved the emperor to anger was that they said he was making a profit by selling the grain allowance which the emperor Constantine had given to the poor of Alexandria.

When the bishops of Egypt wrote that these charges were false, Julius, learning that it was not safe for Athanasius to stay in Egypt for the time being, summoned him to himself. To those who had met at Antioch (for he had just then received their letter) he wrote accusing them of innovating secretly on the doctrine of the synod of Nicaea, and of not having summoned him to their synod, contrary to the laws of the church; for there was a priestly law declaring void whatever was done without the consent of the bishop of the Romans. He said that what had been done at Tyre and in the Mareotis against Athanasius had not been done justly; he charged the former with the false accusation concerning Arsenius, and those in the Mareotis with the absence of Athanasius; and he blamed the arrogance of their letter in everything. On all these grounds he concluded that he must help Athanasius and Paul. For not long afterward Paul too came to Italy and lamented his own case. When Julius achieved nothing by what he wrote about them to the priests of the East, he made their case known to the emperor Constans. Constans wrote to his brother Constantius to send some of the bishops of the East to defend their deposition of these men. Three were chosen for this: Narcissus, bishop of Irenopolis in Cilicia, Theodore of Heraclea in Thrace, and Mark of Arethusa in Syria. Arriving in Italy, they maintained what they had done and tried to persuade the emperor that the judgment of the eastern synod was just. When asked to state what they believed, they concealed the creed they had set out at Antioch and gave another written confession, also differing from the one approved at Nicaea. Constans, seeing that they had plotted unjustly against the men, rejecting communion with them not on account of charges or of their lives, as the depositions alleged, but because of disagreement about the doctrine, sent them away without having persuaded him of what they had come for.

When three years had passed, the bishops of the East again sent the bishops of the West another document, which they call the Long Exposition, as being composed of more words and terms than the earlier ones. In it they made no mention of the essence of God; but they anathematized those who say that the Son is from nothing, or from another subsistence and not from God, and that there was once a time or age when he was not. When Eudoxius, who was bishop of Germanicia, Martyrius and Macedonius brought this document, the priests of the West did not accept it. For they said that they were content with what had been decided at Nicaea and thought there was no need to busy themselves further beyond it. When the emperor Constans asked his brother as a favour that Athanasius's party should recover their own sees, and achieved nothing by writing, since those of the opposite sect worked against it, and Athanasius and Paul came to him asking for a synod, since they had been plotted against with a view to overthrowing the right doctrines, it was decided by the emperors' judgment that the bishops of both parts of the empire should come on a set day to Sardica, a city of Illyricum. Those from the East first gathered at Philippopolis in Thrace, and wrote to those from the West who had already met at Sardica to expel Athanasius's party from the assembly and from communion as deposed men; otherwise, they said, they would not join them. After this they came to Sardica too, but insisted that they would not enter the church if those deposed by them were assembling there. To this those from the West replied that they had never withdrawn from communion with them, nor would they withdraw from it now, especially since Julius, bishop of the Romans, had examined their case and had not condemned them; and that they were present and ready to be tried and to refute again the charges brought against them. When by such messages to each other they achieved nothing, and the appointed day for judging the matters for which they had met had already passed, they finally wrote such things to each other as made their former hostility greater. Meeting separately, they passed contrary votes. Those from the East confirmed what they had already decided about Athanasius, Paul, Marcellus and Asclepas, and deposed Julius, bishop of Rome, as having begun communion with them; Hosius the confessor, for the same reason and because he had become a friend of Paulinus and Eustathius, the former leaders of the church of Antioch; and Maximinus, bishop of Trier, as the first to communicate with Paul and responsible for his return to Constantinople, and as having refused the bishops who came from the East to Gaul. Besides these they deposed Protogenes, bishop of Sardica, and Gaudentius: the former because, though he had earlier voted against Marcellus, he now championed him; Gaudentius, because he had worked against Cyriacus, whom he succeeded, and made much of those deposed by them. Having passed these votes, they made them known to the bishops everywhere, so that they should neither admit these men to communion, nor write to them, nor receive their letters. About God they bade them hold as the document appended to their letter set out; it made no mention of “of the same essence,” but anathematized those who say there are three Gods, or that Christ is not God, or that the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit are the same, or that the Son is unbegotten, or that there was once a time or age when he was not.

For their part, those who met with Hosius declared the accused innocent: Athanasius, as unjustly plotted against by those who met at Tyre; Marcellus, as having confessed that he did not hold the views he was charged with; Asclepas, as having recovered his episcopate by the vote of Eusebius son of Pamphilus and many other judges, and having shown the record of the trial to prove that this was true; and Lucius, because his accusers had fled. They wrote to the church of each that they should have them as bishops and expect them; and that Gregory in Alexandria, Basil in Ancyra and Quintianus in Gaza should not even be named bishops, nor should anyone have communion with them or regard them as Christians. They deposed from the episcopate Theodore the Thracian, Narcissus, bishop of Irenopolis, Acacius of Caesarea in Palestine, Menophantus of Ephesus, Ursacius of Singidunum in Moesia, Valens of Mursa in Pannonia, and George of Laodicea, even though he had not come to this synod with the bishops from the East. They deprived them of the priesthood and of communion as separating the Son from the essence of the Father, and as having received those formerly deposed for the heresy of Arius and promoted them to higher ranks in the ministry of God. Having anathematized them for these reasons and voted them strangers to the catholic church, they wrote to the bishops everywhere to ratify what they had decided and to agree with them about the doctrine. They then set out another document of faith, fuller than that of Nicaea but keeping the same meaning and not differing much from its words. Indeed, Hosius and Protogenes, who were then the leaders of those from the West who had met at Sardica, fearing perhaps that they might seem to some to be innovating on the decisions of Nicaea, wrote to Julius and protested that they held these as valid, but had enlarged the same meaning for the sake of clarity, so that those who held the views of Arius should not be able, by misusing the brevity of the document, to drag those unpractised in argument into absurdities. Having done this, they dissolved the assembly, and each returned home. This synod met in the consulship of … and Eusebius; it was the eleventh year since the death of Constantine. About three hundred bishops from the cities of the West came together, and seventy-six from the East; among these was Ischyrion, who had been entrusted with the episcopate of the Mareotis by those hostile to Athanasius.

After this synod they no longer mixed with one another as of the same faith, nor held communion: those throughout the West separated themselves as far as Thrace, and those throughout the East as far as Illyricum. The affairs of the churches, naturally, were confounded in dissensions and were full of slanders. For though before they had differed about the doctrine, yet while they held communion with one another they did no great harm, being thought to hold much the same views. For on the whole the church throughout the West, governed purely by the ancestral doctrines, was free from strife and from hair-splitting on these matters. For even if Auxentius, who became bishop of Milan, and Valens and Ursacius of Pannonia were eager to bring the subjects there over to the opinion of Arius, their efforts did not go as they wished, since the see of the Romans presided, carefully forestalling the other priests and cutting off the shoots of such a heresy. The East, though it was in strife after the synod at Antioch and already differed openly from the faith of Nicaea, in truth, I think, in the judgment of the majority agreed in the same meaning, and confessed the Son to be from the essence of the Father. But some fought contentiously against the word “of the same essence.” Some, having opposed the term at first, thought it shameful, as I conjecture, to seem defeated, as happens to many people. Others, through habit formed by frequent debates on these matters, turned to thinking so about God and thereafter held immovably to it. Others, knowing that they were contending needlessly, inclined toward what pleased either side, because of power or friendship or other causes by which people are led to grant favours they ought not, or not to use frank speech where they ought to refute. Many thought it nonsense to wear themselves out in such contests of words, and quietly held to the judgment of those who met at Nicaea. Above all those in the East, those who openly held fast to the decisions of Nicaea were Paul, bishop of Constantinople, Athanasius of Alexandria, and the whole body of monks: Antony the Great, who was still alive, and those who had lived with him, and very many others throughout Egypt and elsewhere in the Roman world. Since I have mentioned them, I shall run through in my account those whom I have received as renowned in this same reign.

I shall begin from Egypt and the two Macarii, the most celebrated leaders of Scetis and of the mountain there. Of these two, one was called the Egyptian, the other the townsman, as a citizen; for he was an Alexandrian by birth. Both were exceedingly godly men, possessed divine foreknowledge and philosophy, were terrible to demons, and worked many wonderful deeds and healings. It is said of the Egyptian that he even made a dead man live, in order to persuade a man of another opinion that there will be a resurrection of the dead. He lived about ninety years, sixty of which he spent in the deserts. As soon as he began the philosophic life, while still young, he excelled so that the monks called him the “boy-elder,” and at forty he was ordained presbyter. The other became a presbyter later in life; he tried almost every kind of discipline, partly devising it himself and partly carrying out by every means what he heard from others, so that from extreme dryness of body no hair grew on his chin. About the same time there were practising philosophy Pambo, Heraclides, Cronius, Paphnutius, Putubastes, Arsisius, Serapion the Great, and Pityrion, who lived in the Thebaid; and Pachomius, who became the founder of the so-called Tabennesiots. These had a habit and way of life differing in some respects from the rest of the monks, but looking to virtue and stirring the soul to despise earthly things and to look upward, so that it might pass easily to heavenly things when released from the body. They wore sheepskins in imitation of Elijah the Tishbite; in my opinion, so that, always reminded of the prophet's virtue by the skin they wore, they might stand bravely in battle against the desires of the flesh, and, from zeal for him and hope of similar rewards, be the more eager to live chastely. It is said too that the other garments of the monks in Egypt contribute to an example of a certain philosophy, and do not differ from others by chance. They wear tunics without sleeves, teaching that their hands should not be ready for violence. The covering on the head, which they call a cowl, signifies that they should live as innocently and purely as infants fed on milk, who wear such caps, which cover and keep warm the ruling part. The girdle and the scapular, the one binding the loins and the other holding up the shoulders and arms, bid them be ready for the service and work of God. I am not unaware that others have given other explanations of these things; for me it is enough to say this much. They say that Pachomius at first practised philosophy alone in a cave; and that a divine angel appeared to him and bade him gather young monks and live with them, for he had succeeded well in his own philosophy, and ought, as leader of a community, to benefit many; and that he should govern them by the laws the angel would give; and that he gave him a tablet, which they still keep. The writing on it directed him to allow each to eat and drink as he was able, to work, and to fast or not; but to assign the heavier tasks to those who ate more vigorously, and the lighter to the ascetics. He was to build many small cells, three to live in each cell; all were to take food in one house, eat in silence, and sit at table with their faces covered, so as to see neither one another nor anything else but the table and what was on it. A stranger was not to eat with them, except one lodging as he passed through; and one who wished to live with them was first to labour at the harder tasks for three years, and so share in their community. They were to wear sheepskins and cover their heads with woollen caps, and he ordered these caps to be marked with purple crosses, as it were. They were to use linen tunics and girdles, and to sleep girded in their tunics and sheepskins, sitting on built seats enclosed on either side so as to hold each one's bedding. On the first and last day of the week, approaching the altar for communion in the divine mysteries, they were to loosen their girdles and lay aside their sheepskins. They were to pray twelve times in the whole day, likewise in the evening, and as many times at night; at the ninth hour, three times. When about to eat, they were to sing a psalm before each prayer. He was to divide the whole community into twenty-four orders and name them after the letters of the Greek alphabet, fitting the name to each order according to its life and character: for example, calling the simpler ones iota, the crooked ones zeta or xi, and others in other ways, as one could aptly relate the disposition of the order to the shape of the letter. By these laws Pachomius led his disciples, a man exceedingly kind and so dear to God that he foresaw the future and often conversed with divine angels. He lived at Tabenna, an island in the Thebaid, from which they are still called Tabennesiots. Living under these laws they became most renowned and grew in time to such numbers that they amounted to some seven thousand men. The community on the island of Tabenna, with which Pachomius himself lived, had about thirteen hundred; the others live throughout the Thebaid and the rest of Egypt. There is one and the same rule for all, and all things are common to all; they regard the community on the island of Tabenna as their mother, and its leaders as their fathers and rulers. At this time Apollonius too was distinguished in monastic philosophy. They say that at fifteen he practised philosophy in the deserts, and at forty, by divine command, came to inhabited places. He too had his community in the Thebaid. He was exceedingly dear to God, a worker of wonderful healings and signs, effective in what was needed, and a good and gracious teacher of those who came to philosophy; and so readily heard in his prayers that nothing he asked of God went unaccomplished. For being altogether wise, he made his requests wisely, and the Divine is naturally ready to grant such. I conjecture that the godly Anuph too lived at this time; I have learned that from the time he first confessed the doctrine in the persecutions he never told a lie nor desired anything on earth, obtained everything he asked of God, and was taught every virtue by a divine angel as his teacher. But let so much be said for now about the monks of Egypt. Palestine too was already beginning to practise philosophy in the same way, having learned it from the Egyptians; and the godly Hilarion was then distinguished there. His home was the village of Thabatha, lying south of Gaza by the torrent which, emptying into the sea, takes its local name from the village. While attending a grammarian at Alexandria, he went to the desert to see Antony the great monk; and associating with him, he resolved to practise philosophy in like manner. After spending a short time there he returned to his homeland; for he was not allowed to live in quiet as he wished, since many people were always coming to Antony. Finding his parents dead, he distributed his property among his brothers and the needy, and, keeping nothing at all for himself, lived in a desert place by the sea, about twenty stades from his village. His dwelling was a small hut built of brick, rubbish and broken tiles, so wide, high and long that standing he had to bend his head and lying he had to draw up his feet. For he accustomed himself to hardship in everything and to mastering ease. Indeed, of all whom we know he left no one able to surpass him in unboastful and proven self-control, contending against hunger and thirst, cold and heat, and the other passions and flatteries of body and soul. He was earnest in character, grave in speech, and an exact student of the sacred Scriptures; and he was so dear to God that even now many sick and possessed are healed at his tomb, and, most wonderful of all, both among the Cypriots, where he was first buried, and among the Palestinians, where he now is. For having died while staying in Cyprus, he was buried by the inhabitants and was held there in great honour and veneration. Afterward Hesychas, the most renowned of his disciples, stole his remains, carried them to Palestine, and buried them in his own monastery; and from that time the inhabitants keep a public and very splendid yearly feast there. For it is the custom of the Palestinians to honour in this way the good men who have lived among them, as for example Aurelius of Anthedon, Alexion of Bethagathon, and Alaphion of Asalea, who lived at the same time, practised philosophy piously and bravely under the present reign, and by their own virtues advanced the religion in the cities and villages there, which were exceedingly given to paganism. At that time Julian practised philosophy near Edessa, undertaking a most exact and, as it were, bodiless discipline and way of life, so that he seemed to consist of bones and skin without flesh; and he gave Ephrem the Syrian writer occasion for a work narrating his life. God himself confirmed what men thought of him, granting him to drive out demons and to heal diseases of every kind, not by any medicines but by prayer. Besides him, the region there was then distinguished by many other churchly philosophers, in the district of Edessa and near the city of Amida, about the mountain called Gaugalion; among them were Daniel and Symeon. But let this be said for now about the monks of Syria; more fully, God willing, it will be told about them in what follows. Among the Armenians and Paphlagonians and those who live by the Pontus, Eustathius, who governed the church of Sebaste in Armenia, is said to have begun the monastic way of life, and to have introduced an earnest discipline there: what foods one should partake of or abstain from, what dress one should use, and customs and an exact way of life; so that some insist that the book entitled the Ascetic Book of Basil the Cappadocian is his writing. It is said that through excessive strictness he fell into unreasonable observances quite contrary to the laws of the church. Others clear him of the charge, but blame some of his disciples as condemning marriage, refusing to pray in the houses of married people, despising married presbyters, fasting on the Lord's days, holding assemblies in houses, declaring the rich entirely without share in the kingdom of God, abhorring those who eat meat, not tolerating the wearing of ordinary tunics and robes but using a strange and unusual dress, and making very many other innovations. Through this, it is said, many women were deceived and left their husbands, and then, unable to remain continent, fell into adultery; others, on the pretext of piety, cut off their hair and dressed otherwise than befits a woman, in the fashion usual for men. For these reasons the neighbouring bishops met at Gangra, the metropolis of Paphlagonia, and voted them strangers to the catholic church unless they renounced each of the things mentioned, according to the definitions of the synod. Eustathius, showing that he had introduced and practised these things not out of arrogance but for discipline according to God, changed his dress and thereafter made his public appearances like the other priests. Such a man in his life, he was also admired for his words; though, to tell the truth, he was not a powerful speaker, for he had not trained himself in that skill. But in character he was wonderful and most able to persuade, so that he persuaded many men and women who were living immorally to take up a chaste and earnest life. They say, for instance, that when a certain man and woman, who professed virginity according to the rule of the church, were accused of living together, he tried to stop their association; and failing, he groaned deeply and said that a woman living lawfully with her husband had, on hearing his words about chastity, abstained from the intercourse that wives may lawfully have with their own husbands, while those who lived together unlawfully had proved his persuasion weak. Such a man, it is said, was the founder of the strict monastic discipline in that region. The Thracians, Illyrians and those who live in what is called Europe, though they still had no experience of monastic communities, were not altogether without philosophic men. Among them Martin was known, who was of distinguished family from Sabaria in Pannonia; he served brilliantly in arms and became a commander. But preferring divine things, he took up the philosophic life. He lived first among the Illyrians; but when, contending eagerly for the doctrine, he exposed some of the bishops there as holding the views of Arius, he was plotted against, often beaten in public, and driven out. Coming to Milan, he lived by himself. He withdrew from there too, being plotted against by Auxentius the bishop, who himself did not hold soundly to the faith of those who met at Nicaea; and for a time, living on roots of herbs, he dwelt on an island they call Gallinaria, which is small and uninhabited, lying in the Tyrrhenian sea. Later he was entrusted with the episcopate of the church at Terracina. It is handed down that he advanced so far in wonder-working that he is believed to have raised a dead man and to have performed other signs not falling short of the apostles'. In this part of the empire, we have received, there lived at that time also Hilary, a man godly in life and speech, who shared Martin's exile because of his zeal for the doctrine. Concerning the men, then, who at that time practised philosophy in piety and according to the rule of the church, I have written these things as I learned them. Exceedingly many and very learned men were also distinguished in the churches at the same time. The most famous among them were Eusebius, who held the priesthood of Emesa, Titus of Bostra, Serapion of Thmuis, Basil of Ancyra, Eudoxius of Germanicia, Acacius of Caesarea, and Cyril, who governed the see of Jerusalem. The many and noteworthy works they wrote and left behind are a token of their learning.

About this time Didymus too, a church writer, was distinguished, presiding at Alexandria over the sacred school of sacred learning. In him dwelt every kind of wisdom: poets and orators, astronomy, geometry and arithmetic, and the opinions of philosophers. He acquired knowledge of all these by mind and hearing alone. For while still young he became blind, at his first attempt at learning the letters. When he was already reaching youth, he longed for letters and education; attending those who taught them, he only listened, and came to such wisdom that he mastered even the difficult theorems of mathematics. It is said that he learned the shapes of the letters by touching with his fingers letters carved deeply into a board, and syllables, words and the rest in order by grasp of mind, constant listening, and recollection of what he had captured by hearing. He was no ordinary marvel; and many came to Alexandria because of the man's fame, some to hear him, others only to see him. He greatly grieved the Arians, since he upheld the doctrine of the synod of Nicaea. He persuaded easily, not seeming to do it by force of argument, but by his great persuasiveness he made each of them, as it were, judge of the disputed points. He was highly prized by those of the catholic church; the orders of monks in Egypt praised him, and Antony the Great. They say that Antony, coming from the desert to Alexandria at that time to bear witness to the faith of Athanasius, said this to him: “It is not hard, Didymus, nor worth grieving over, that you lack eyes, which lizards and mice and the meanest creatures share. But it is blessed and gracious that you have eyes like the angels, by which you discern the Divine clearly and see true knowledge exactly.” Among the Italians, moreover, and those living in that part of the empire, Eusebius and the Hilary already mentioned were distinguished for excellence in the ancestral doctrines; they say that his treatises on the faith and against those of another opinion are well regarded. And Lucifer, whom they say was the founder of the sect named after him. At this time Aetius too was admired by those of another opinion, being a dialectician, able at syllogisms, given to contests of words and pursuing them without skill. Indeed, because he discoursed so readily about God, most people called him godless. They say that at first he was a physician at Antioch in Syria, that he zealously attended the churches and discussed the sacred Scriptures, and became known to Gallus, who was then Caesar, who made much of religion and greatly delighted in those who cared for piety; and that, having naturally become his friend through such discussions, he trained himself in this kind of argument in order to please him more. For he was said to have gone through the learning of Aristotle and to have attended its teachers at Alexandria. Besides these there were a multitude of others in the churches able to teach and discuss the sacred Scriptures; to enumerate them all would be a labour. Let no one think it hard that I have praised some who were leaders or zealots of the heresies mentioned. For I agree that they were admirable for eloquence and skill in speaking; but concerning doctrines, let those judge to whom it belongs to do so. For I did not set out to write about these things, nor is it fitting for history, whose task is to narrate only what happened, adding nothing of its own. Let those, then, of whom we have received that at that time, using the Latin and Greek languages, they became most renowned for learning and eloquence, be ranked among those named.

Ephrem the Syrian seemed to surpass them all and to adorn the catholic church above all. His family came from Nisibis or the places near it. Having spent his life in monastic philosophy, without having studied or being expected to become such a man, he suddenly advanced so far in learning in the Syriac language that he attained the highest speculations of philosophy, and by the ease and brilliance of his style and the density and soundness of his thought surpassed the most esteemed writers among the Greeks. For if one translates their works into Syriac or another language and removes, so to speak, the seasoning of the Greek idioms, they are at once exposed and lose their former charm. But it is not so with the works of Ephrem. Both in his lifetime and still now they translate what he wrote into Greek, and it falls little short of the excellence it has in the original; read in Greek, he is admired as much as in Syriac. Basil, for instance, who afterward was bishop of the metropolis of the Cappadocians, admired the man and marvelled at his learning. So it seems to me that Ephrem rightly received this testimony from those then admired among the Greeks for eloquence, expressed through the voice of Basil, since it is agreed that Basil was the most learned of all in his time. It is said that he wrote some three million lines in all, and had many disciples who zealously emulated his learning; the most distinguished were Abbas, Zenobius, Abraham, Maras and Symeon, of whom the sons of the Syrians, and all who have mastered their learning, boast greatly. They praise Paulonas and Aranad likewise for eloquence, but say that they fell away from the sound doctrines. I am not unaware that long ago very learned men of this kind arose among the Osrhoenians: Bardaisan, who founded the sect called after him, and Harmonius, Bardaisan's son. They say that Harmonius, trained in Greek letters, was the first to bring his native language under metres and musical rules, and to give it to choirs, as the Syrians still often sing now, using not the writings of Harmonius but his melodies. For since he was not entirely free of his father's heresy and of what the Greek philosophers hold about the soul, the generation and destruction of the body, and rebirth, he set his compositions to the lyre, as it were, and mixed these opinions into his writings. When Ephrem saw the Syrians charmed by the beauty of the words and the rhythm of the melody, and through this becoming accustomed to think as he did, though he had no share in Greek learning, he set himself to master the metres of Harmonius, and to the melodies of his writings he composed other works agreeing with the doctrines of the church, such as he laboured at in divine hymns and in praises of passionless men. From that time the Syrians sing the works of Ephrem according to the rule of Harmonius's ode. How great his nature was must be judged from this too. In his life also he was illustrious for good works and an exact way of life, and an exceeding lover of quiet. He was grave, and so careful to avoid slander that he guarded himself even from the sight of any woman. It is said, for instance, that once a woman careless in her life and perhaps shameless in manner, either testing the man herself or being paid by others to do so, deliberately met him face to face in a narrow lane, staring at him without blinking. He rebuked her and told her to look at the ground. “And how,” said the woman, “when I came not from the earth but from you? It is more just that you look at the earth, from which you have your origin, and I at you, from whom I am.” Ephrem, admiring the woman, made what happened into a composition, which the learned among the Syrians have ranked among the most excellent of his works. It is said, too, that though formerly prone to anger, from the time he took up the monastic discipline he was never seen angry by anyone. Thus once, when as usual he had fasted for many days, the one who served him, bringing him his food, broke the pot. Seeing him overcome with shame and fear, Ephrem said: “Take courage; since the food has not come to us, let us go to the food.” And sitting down by the pieces of the pot, he ate his meal. How far he was master of vain glory may be known from this. Once some people cast a vote for him for a bishopric and tried to seize him to take him to be ordained. As soon as he perceived it, he rushed into the market-place and showed himself as if deranged, walking in disorder, trailing his clothes, and eating in public. When those who meant to seize him thought he was out of his mind and were checked in their rush at him, he found an opportunity, ran away, and stayed hidden until another had been ordained. With this I shall be content about Ephrem; the people of the country know and tell more. But what he did not long before his death seems to me worth remembering, so I shall write it here. When famine had seized the city of Edessa, he came out, after a long time, from the cell in which he practised philosophy, and rebuked those who had property for disregarding their own kin, who were perishing for want of necessities, while carefully guarding their own wealth, to the harm and punishment of their own souls, which he showed, philosophizing, to be more precious than all wealth and than the body itself and everything else; and he proved by their deeds that they made no account of it. They, respecting the man and his words, said: “We do not care about property; but we are at a loss to whom we may entrust such services, since almost everyone gapes after gain and makes a trade of the matter.” He took them up and asked, “What do you think of me?” When they agreed that he was trustworthy, a very good and upright man, and such as his reputation held, “Then for your sakes,” he said, “I will willingly appoint myself to this.” Taking money from them, he set up about three hundred beds in the public porticoes, cared for those sick from the famine, and welcomed strangers and those who came in from the country for lack of necessities. When the famine ended, he returned to the cell where he had lived before; and having lived a few days more, he died. He rose in the clerical order no higher than deacon, but became famous for virtue no less than those admired for priesthood, a good life and learning. These are the tokens of Ephrem's virtue. To speak worthily and go through everything, how he and each of those who then practised philosophy lived and conducted themselves, and among whom, would need a writer such as he was. I see that this is beyond me, from weakness of speech and ignorance both of the men themselves and of what they achieved. For some lay hidden in the deserts; others, living among the crowds of cities, made themselves appear ordinary and no different from the many, practising virtue while hiding the true opinion about themselves, so as not to be praised by others. For, intent on the rewards of the good things to come, they made God alone the witness of their labours and took no account of glory from outside.

On the whole the leaders of the churches at that time too lived exact lives. Naturally, the people, led by such men, were zealously devoted to the worship of Christ; and religion grew daily, and by the zeal, virtue and wonderful deeds of the priests and the church's philosophers it captured the pagans and drew them to itself from pagan nonsense. The emperors helped toward this growth, being no less zealous for the churches than their father, honouring the clergy, their children and households with special honours and exemptions, confirming their father's laws, and enacting laws of their own against those who attempted to sacrifice, to worship images, or to practise pagan religion in any other way. They ordered the temples everywhere in cities and countryside to be closed; and some they gave to churches that needed sites or materials. For they took great care to renew the houses of prayer worn by time and to raise others magnificently from the foundations; among these is the church of Emesa, worth seeing and celebrated for its beauty. They enacted that no Jew should buy a slave of another religion; if he did so, the slave was to become public property; and if he also circumcised him, as is lawful for Jews, the penalty was to be capital and the confiscation of his property. For since they wished to increase the religion in every way, they made provision that those who were not Jews by birth should not be drawn freely into Judaism, and that those who had hope of Christianity should be kept for the church. For religion grew most of all from the pagan multitude.

Moreover, in the doctrine itself they at first kept their father's opinion; for both approved the faith of Nicaea. Constans remained so until his death; Constantius held the same for a time. Afterward, when the word “of the same essence” had been attacked, he was moved from his former opinion; yet he did not altogether refrain from confessing the Son to be like the Father in essence. Eusebius's party and certain others of the bishops then admired in the East for speech and life introduced, as we have learned, a distinction between saying “of the same essence” and “like in essence,” which they called homoiousios. For “of the same essence,” they said, is properly understood of bodies, such as men and other animals, trees and plants, whose sharing and generation are from something like themselves; but “like in essence” of incorporeal beings, such as God and angels, each being conceived in its own essence. By such men the emperor Constantius too was won over. In meaning, as I conjecture, he held the same as his father and brother; but exchanging one expression for another, he said homoiousios instead of homoousios. For the proponents of these views thought it more exact to speak in this way, insisting that if one did not say this, one risked conceiving the incorporeal as a body. This seemed foolish to many; for they said that names for intelligible things must be taken from visible things, and that there is no danger in a word unless the error lies in the thought.

It is not surprising that the emperor was affected in this way, since many of the priests too accepted this term without contention, agreeing in meaning with those who had met at Nicaea; and others, finding no difference between the two words, used them with the same sense. So it seems to me that the story put about by those who hold the views of Arius is far from the truth. For they say that after the synod of Nicaea many of the priests, among them Eusebius and Theognis, would no longer say that the Son is of the same essence as the Father; that Constantine, angry at this, condemned them to live in exile; that it was revealed by God beforehand to the emperor's sister, in a dream or a waking vision, that they held right views and had suffered unjustly; that the emperor then recalled them and asked why they held views contrary to what was decided at Nicaea, especially since they had taken part in the document on the faith set out there; and that they said they had assented not from conviction, but fearing that, if strife arose on this, he would naturally condemn the doctrine as doubtful and turn to paganism and persecute the church, since he had only lately begun to be a Christian and was still unbaptized. On this defence, they say, Constantine pardoned them and planned to gather another synod; but his death came before he could carry this out, and he charged his elder son Constantius to accomplish it, since there was no profit to him in empire unless the Divine were worshipped by all in harmony; and Constantius, obeying his father, convened the synod at Ariminum. Here above all the falsehood is detected. For they met in the consulship of Hypatius and Eusebius, when Constantius was completing about the twenty-second year of his reign after his father's death, and many synods had been held in between, at which there was inquiry into “of the same essence” and “of like essence.” No one at all was willing to deny that the Son is like the Father in essence until Aetius gave offence on this point; and to do away with such a doctrine, the emperor ordered the priests to meet at Seleucia at the same time. So the true cause of this synod was not Constantine's command but Aetius's inquiry. That this is so, what follows will show.

When Constans learned what had been done at Sardica, he wrote to his brother to give back their churches to Athanasius and Paul. When Constantius put it off, he wrote again that he should either receive the men or prepare for war. Constantius, consulting the bishops of the East about this, thought it foolish to choose civil war for this reason. He recalled Athanasius from Italy, giving him the public carriages for the return journey, and urging him by many letters to return quickly. Athanasius, who was then staying at Aquileia, on receiving Constantius's letters, came to Rome to take leave of Julius. Julius sent him away very kindly, giving him a letter to the clergy and people of Alexandria which naturally admired the man, made most famous by his many dangers, rejoiced with the church of Alexandria at the return of so great a priest, and urged them to hold his views. From there he came to Antioch in Syria, where the emperor was then staying; and Leontius held the churches. For after the exile of Eustathius those of the opposite sect had governed the see of Antioch: first Euphronius, after him Placetus, and then Stephen; and when he was deposed as unworthy, Leontius then governed the episcopate. Athanasius declined him as of another opinion, and communicated with those called Eustathians, who assembled in private houses. When he found Constantius well disposed and fair, and it seemed that he would recover his own church, at the suggestion of the leaders of the opposite sect the emperor said: “I am ready to fulfil the promises on which I recalled you. But it is just that you too should readily grant a favour I may ask: that of the many churches under you, those who decline to communicate with you may have one.” Athanasius replied: “It is most just and necessary, emperor, to obey your commands, and I will not oppose it. But since in this city of Antioch too there are those who flee communion with the heterodox and are in communion with us, I ask the same favour, that they too may have one church and meet in it without fear.” When the emperor judged that Athanasius spoke justly, it seemed better to those of the other sect to keep quiet. They reckoned that their own opinion would in any case make no progress among the Alexandrians because of Athanasius himself, who was able to keep those of his opinion secure and to win over his opponents; whereas if this happened at Antioch, first the admirers of Eustathius, who were many, would be organized, and then, naturally, they would attempt innovations, when they could have what they had without danger. For even while they held the churches there, not all the clergy and people obeyed their views; but gathering in choirs, as is the custom, to sing praise to God, they showed their own preference at the end of the odes. Some glorified the Father and the Son as equal in honour; others the Father in the Son, by inserting the preposition declaring the Son to be second. Indeed, when things had come to this, Leontius, who at this time governed the see of Antioch for the opposite sect, was at a loss what to do; he did not try to prevent those who sang praise to God according to the tradition of the synod of Nicaea, for he feared the people would riot; but it is said that, touching his head, which was white with grey hair, he said: “When this snow melts there will be much mud,” hinting that after his death the disagreement in the hymns would end in strife among the people, since those after him would not be so accommodating toward the multitude.

The emperor sent Athanasius away to Egypt, and wrote about him to the bishops and presbyters in the cities and to the people of the church of Alexandria, bearing witness to the uprightness of his life and the virtue of his character, urging them to be of one mind and, under him as their leader, to serve the Divine with prayers and supplications; and if any wilfully showed themselves seditious, they were to be punished according to the laws on such matters. He also ordered that what he had earlier written against Athanasius and those in communion with him should be erased from the public records, and that his clergy should be exempt from public duties as before; and he wrote about this to the governors in Egypt and Libya. When Athanasius came to Egypt, he deposed those he knew held the views of Arius, entrusted the churches to those he himself approved, together with the faith of the synod of Nicaea, and charged them to hold zealously to it. It is said that at that time, travelling through the other provinces too, he did the same wherever the churches happened to be held by those of Arius. Indeed, they brought this charge too against him, that he had dared to ordain in cities that did not belong to him. Since he had achieved his return in spite of his opponents, and because of his friendship with the emperor Constans did not seem one to be despised, he was in more honour than before. Many of the bishops too gave up their hostility to him and gave him communion, as did those of Palestine; for when he passed through their country at that time they received him kindly; and holding a synod at Jerusalem, Maximus and others wrote about him as follows.

“The holy synod gathered at Jerusalem to the presbyters, deacons and people in Egypt and Libya and in Alexandria, beloved and most longed-for brothers, greeting in the Lord. We cannot thank the God of all worthily, beloved, for the wonders he has always done, and has done now with your church, in giving back to you your shepherd and lord and our fellow minister Athanasius. For who ever hoped to see with his eyes what you now receive in fact? But truly your prayers have been heard by the God of all, who cares for his church and has looked upon your tears and lamentations, and for this reason has heard your petitions. For you were like sheep scattered and harassed, having no shepherd. Therefore the true Shepherd, who cares for his own sheep, has visited you from heaven and given back to you the one you longed for. For see, we too, doing everything for the peace of the church and breathing with your love, have met him first and embraced him; and having entered into communion with you through him, we send you these greetings and our prayers of thanksgiving, so that you may know that we too are united with you by the bond of love. You ought also to pray for the piety of the most God-beloved emperors, who themselves, knowing your longing and his innocence, have seen fit to restore him to you with all honour. Receive him, then, with outstretched hands, and be eager to send up the thanksgiving you owe for him to God, who has granted you these things, so that you may always rejoice with God and glorify the Lord in Christ Jesus our Lord, through whom be glory to the Father for ever and ever. Amen.”

So wrote the synod of Palestine. A very great thing besides befell Athanasius, which clearly proved that those who met at Tyre had condemned him unjustly. For Valens and Ursacius, who, as was said before, had gone with Theognis's party to the Mareotis to inquire whether he had broken a sacred chalice, as Ischyrion's charge alleged, repented and wrote as follows to Julius, bishop of the Romans: “To the lord most blessed Pope Julius, Ursacius and Valens. Since it is established that we earlier made many grievous charges against Athanasius the bishop in our letters, and when summoned by letters of your Goodness we could not give an account of the matter about which we had informed, we confess before your Goodness, in the presence of all our brothers the presbyters, that everything that came earlier to your hearing about the name of the aforesaid Athanasius is false and fabricated and wholly foreign to him. For this reason we gladly embrace communion with the aforesaid Athanasius, especially since your Piety, in its innate goodness, has seen fit to grant pardon for our error. We confess also that if ever the Easterners, or even Athanasius himself, should wish maliciously to summon us to judgment about this, we will not go without your consent. The heretic Arius and his supporters, who say, ‘There was once when the Son was not,’ and ‘Christ is from what was not,’ and who deny that Christ is God and Son of God before the ages, as we also stated in our former libellus given at Milan, we anathematize now and always. Having written this with our own hand, we confess again that, as we said before, we have condemned the Arian heresy and its authors for ever. I, Ursacius, subscribed this my confession in person; likewise Valens.” This is what they confessed to Julius. What they also wrote to Athanasius I shall necessarily set down. It reads as follows.

“To the lord brother bishop Athanasius, Ursacius and Valens, bishops. Finding an opportunity through our brother and fellow presbyter Musaeus, who is coming to your love, beloved brother, we greet you warmly through him from Aquileia, and pray that you may read our letter in good health. You will give us confidence if you repay us by writing in return. For know that we are at peace with you and in ecclesiastical communion; the token of this is the greeting in this letter.” So Athanasius returned from the western part of the empire to Egypt. Paul too, and Marcellus, Asclepas and Lucius, recovered their own sees; for letters of the emperor allowed them to return. In Constantinople, when Paul entered, Macedonius withdrew and held assemblies by himself. At Ancyra a very great disturbance occurred when Basil was deprived of the church there and Marcellus entered. For the others the return was not difficult.

So these things happened. In the fourth year after the synod at Sardica, Constans was killed among the western Gauls; and Magnentius, who had plotted his murder, brought under himself the whole of the empire ruled by Constans. Vetranio was proclaimed emperor by the Illyrian soldiers at Sirmium. The elder Rome too had a very great share in these evils, when Nepotianus, a nephew of the emperor Constantine, gathered the gladiators about him and laid claim to the empire; but he was killed by the soldiers of Magnentius. Constantius, since the whole empire had come round to him alone, was proclaimed sole emperor and set himself to overthrow the usurpers. Meanwhile Athanasius came to Alexandria and had a synod of the bishops of Egypt held to confirm what had been decided about him at Sardica and in Palestine.

The emperor, persuaded by the slanders of those of the opposite sect, did not keep to the same mind, but ordered those to be driven out who had obtained their return contrary to what had earlier been decided by the synod at Sardica. Then, Marcellus having been expelled again, Basil held the church of Ancyra; and Lucius was thrown into prison and died. Paul was condemned to perpetual exile and was carried away to Cucusus in Armenia, where he died; whether by disease or violence I do not know exactly, but the report still prevails that he was strangled by those of Macedonius's opinion. When he had been carried into exile, Macedonius held the church, having fortified himself with many monasteries which he founded at Constantinople and with treaties with the surrounding bishops. He is said to have ill-treated those of Paul's opinion in various ways: first driving them from the churches, and afterward forcing them to communicate with him, so that many died under blows, some were deprived of property, others of citizenship, and others were branded on the forehead, so that they might be marked as such. The emperor, learning of this, condemned it and held Macedonius's party to blame; and this became a cause of the deposition of Macedonius himself, when they took from him the church of Constantinople.

For the evil went as far as murders. For others were put to death, and Martyrius and Marcian, who had been members of Paul's household and, it is said, died bravely, having been handed over by Macedonius to the prefect as responsible for the death of Hermogenes and for the riot connected with it. One was a subdeacon; the other, Marcian, a cantor and reader of the divine Scriptures. Their tomb is famous, before the wall of Constantinople, a memorial as of martyrs, enclosed by a house of prayer, which John began to build and Sisinnius completed, who afterward presided over the church of Constantinople. For they have thought it not right that men honoured by God should lack the honours of martyrdom, since the place there, where those led to death had their heads cut off, which had formerly been inaccessible because of apparitions, was cleansed, those possessed by demons were freed from their affliction, and many other wonders happened at their tomb. Let this be said about Martyrius and Marcian. If it seems incredible to anyone, it is no labour to learn more exactly from those who know; perhaps they will relate things still more wonderful.

About this time, Athanasius having fled, George ill-treated those in Egypt who refused to hold the same views as he. The emperor, marching against Illyricum, came to Sirmium, and Vetranio came to meet him there on stated terms. When the soldiers who had proclaimed him changed sides and acclaimed Constantius alone as emperor and Augustus (for the emperor himself and his supporters had worked for this), Vetranio understood that he had been betrayed; and falling prostrate at Constantius's feet, he became a suppliant. Constantius, stripping him of the imperial ornaments and the purple, pitied him, allowed him to live as a private man, and ordered that he should have necessities in abundance from the public treasury, saying that, as an old man, it was more fitting for him to be released from imperial cares and to live in quiet. When things had turned out so with Vetranio, he sent a very large army against Magnentius into Italy; and having made his cousin Gallus Caesar, he sent him to Syria to guard the eastern region.

At that time, when Cyril governed the church of Jerusalem after Maximus, a sign of the cross appeared in the sky, shining brightly, not streaming out in rays like a comet, but as a mass of much light, fairly dense and transparent; in length it stretched from the place of the Skull to the Mount of Olives, taking up about fifteen stades of the sky above this place, and its breadth was in proportion to its length. At the wonderful marvel all were seized with fear. Leaving houses and markets and whatever work each was doing, they gathered with their children and wives into the church, sang praise to Christ together, and eagerly confessed him as God. The report of it greatly amazed the whole inhabited world in our part of it. It did not take long; for, as was usual, those who had come from almost every land to Jerusalem to pray and to visit the places there told their families what they had seen. The emperor also learned of it, both from many others who reported it and from a letter of Cyril the bishop. It was said by those learned in such matters that this had been foretold long ago in the sacred books by a certain divine prophecy. What happened in this way brought many pagans and Jews to Christianity.

Meanwhile Photinus, who governed the church of Sirmium and had already earlier introduced a new heresy, openly maintained his own doctrine while the emperor was still staying there. Having a natural gift for speaking well and being able to persuade, he drew many to an opinion like his own. He said that there is one God almighty, who created all things by his own Word; but he did not accept the generation and existence of the Son before the ages, and taught that Christ came into being from Mary. When this doctrine became widely known, the bishops of the West and of the East were indignant, all alike thinking that what each of them believed was being innovated upon; for the faith of Photinus was shown to be entirely at variance both with those who admired the tradition of Nicaea and with those who approved the opinion of Arius. The emperor was angry at this, and, staying at Sirmium at that time, he convened a synod. From the East there came, among others, George, who had been entrusted with the church of Alexandria, Basil, bishop of Ancyra, and Mark of Arethusa; from the West, Valens of Mursa and Hosius the confessor, who, having taken part in the synod of Nicaea, took part in this one against his will. For not long before, through the plotting of those who held the views of Arius, he had been condemned to live in exile, and at the urging of those who met at Sirmium he was summoned by the emperor. For they thought that if by some persuasion or force they made him vote with them, he, being most distinguished and admired by all, would be a credible witness to their own doctrine. When they met at Sirmium (this was the year after the consulship of Sergius and Nigrinianus, when no consul was proclaimed either from the East or from the West because of the disturbance in public affairs caused by the usurpers), they deposed Photinus as holding the views of Sabellius and Paul of Samosata. After this, again contrary to what had earlier been decided about the faith, they issued three expositions, composing one in Greek and the others in Latin, which in many respects, both in wording and in meaning, agreed neither with each other nor with those decided before. It should be known that the Greek one called the Son neither of the same essence nor of like essence with the Father, but anathematized those who say that he is without beginning, or that the essence of God is extended and makes the Son, or who think him co-ordinate with the Father rather than subordinate to him. One of the Latin ones forbids entirely to speak of essence, which the Romans call substantia, whether the Son is of like essence or of the same essence with the Father, as neither stated in the sacred Scriptures nor easily grasped by human thoughts and knowledge; it bids all confess that the Father is greater in honour, dignity and divinity, and in the very name of Father, and holds that the Son is subordinate to the Father together with all things; that the Father has no beginning, and that the generation of the Son is unknown to all except the Father. It is said that after this document had been issued, the bishops concerned, as it had been composed improperly, were eager to take it back for correction, and that the emperor ordered this, threatening punishment against those who concealed it; but once issued, it could no longer be hidden at all. The third document agrees in meaning with the others in other respects, but removed the name of essence, and gives this reason in these very words, in the Latin language: “The name of essence, which was set down rather simply by the fathers and, being unknown to the many, caused offence because it is not found in the Scriptures, it has seemed good to remove, and to make no mention at all of essence, chiefly because the divine Scriptures nowhere speak of one essence of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit; nor is one to speak of one subsistence. We say the Son is like the Father, as the divine Scriptures say.” These were the decisions about the faith made in the presence of the emperor himself. Hosius at first refused to agree to them; but being forced, and having endured blows, as it is said, though an old man, he agreed and signed. This synod decided to test Photinus after his deposition, to see whether he could perhaps change his former opinion. But when the bishops urged him and promised to give back his episcopate if he renounced his own doctrine and voted with their documents, he would not; instead he challenged them to a debate. On a set day the bishops met, and judges took their seats by the emperor's order, those who then seemed to hold first place at the palace in learning and rank; and Basil, bishop of Ancyra, took up the debate with Photinus. When the contest had gone on at length by question and answer on both sides, with shorthand writers recording the words of each, Basil prevailed. Photinus was condemned to exile, but even so did not stop promoting his own doctrine; he wrote and published treatises in Latin and Greek in which he tried to show the opinions of all others except his own to be false. Concerning Photinus and the heresy named after him, let this be said by me.

Meanwhile Magnentius, having seized the elder Rome, killed many of the senate and of the people. Learning that Constantius's generals were already near, he withdrew to the western Gauls. There, attacking each other many times, now these and now those were defeated, until at last Magnentius was defeated and fled to Mursa, a fortress of the Gauls. Seeing his own soldiers dejected at their defeat, he stood on a height and tried to make them bolder. But they, as they are accustomed to acclaim emperors, and eager to do so when Magnentius appeared, without meaning to, unwittingly acclaimed Constantius instead of Magnentius as Augustus. Concluding from this that God did not wish him to reign, Magnentius tried to leave this fortress and go farther. Pursued by Constantius's army, he engaged it near the place called Mons Seleucus, fled, and escaped to Lugdunum. There, having killed his mother and his brother, whom he had made Caesar, he finally killed himself. Not long after, Decentius, another brother of his, hanged himself. Even so the public disturbances did not come to an end. Shortly afterward one Silvanus seized power among the western Gauls, and Constantius's generals at once put him down. The Jews in Diocaesarea overran Palestine and the surrounding peoples, and taking up arms, refused to obey the Romans. When Gallus the Caesar, who was staying at Antioch, learned of this, he sent an army, subdued them, and laid Diocaesarea waste. Thinking himself successful, he could not bear his good fortune, but wished to make himself sole ruler. When Magnus the quaestor and Domitian, the prefect of the East, reported his plans of revolt to the emperor, he killed them. Constantius, indignant, summoned him. Unable to disobey, for he was afraid, he set out on the journey; and when he was already near the island of Flanona, he was put to death by the emperor's order, in the year when he was consul for the third time and Constantius for the seventh.

When the usurpers had been put down and Constantius seemed to have rest from the evils that had befallen, he left Sirmium and went toward the elder Rome; for he wished to hold the triumphal procession over the usurpers there. Thinking at the same time that he could bring the bishops of both parts of the empire to one mind about the doctrine, he ordered a synod to be held in Italy. Meanwhile Julius died, having governed the church of the Romans for twenty-five years, and Liberius succeeded him. Those who rejected the faith of Nicaea, reckoning that they had an opportunity to slander those of the opposite opinion, worked very diligently at the palace to have expelled from the churches all those whom they had deposed, as being of another opinion and as having striven, while Constans was alive, to set the two empires against each other, since he had threatened his brother with war unless he received them, as was said above. They blamed Athanasius most of all. In the excess of their hatred for him, not even while Constans was alive and Constantius pretended to love him did they refrain from their enmity; but meeting at Antioch, Narcissus the Cilician, Theodore the Thracian, Eugenius of Nicaea, Patrophilus of Scythopolis, Menophantus of Ephesus and others, about thirty in all, wrote to the bishops everywhere that he had returned to Alexandria contrary to the laws of the church, not having been found innocent by a synod but through the partisanship of those who held his views; and they urged them neither to communicate with him nor to write to him, but to George, whom they had ordained. At that time Athanasius took no account of these things; but he was to experience harsher troubles than before. For as soon as Magnentius had perished and Constantius alone ruled the Roman world, he made every effort to bring the bishops of the West to join those who held the Son to be of like essence with the Father. He did not do this at first by open compulsion, but by persuading them to vote with what had been decided against Athanasius by the bishops of the East; for he reckoned that if Athanasius were put out of the way by common vote, the matters of religion too would easily go as he wished.

When a synod was held at Milan, at the emperor's urging, few came from the East, the others, naturally, declining to come because of illness or the length of the journey; from the West more than three hundred gathered. When those from the East demanded that Athanasius be condemned, so that he might be altogether driven from Alexandria, the others agreed, through fear, deceit, or ignorance of the facts. Only Dionysius, bishop of Alba, the metropolis of Italy, Eusebius of Liguria, Paulinus of Trier, Rhodanius and Lucifer cried out and protested that Athanasius should not be condemned so easily; for, if this happened, the evil would not stop there, but the plot would go on against those who held right doctrines about God; and these efforts were being made by the emperor's Arian party for the overthrow of the faith of Nicaea. Those who spoke so freely were condemned to exile, and Hilary with them. The outcome confirmed that the true cause of the assembly at Milan was what they said. For not long afterward the synod at Ariminum and that at Seleucia were gathered, and each tried to innovate against what had been decided at Nicaea, as I shall show shortly. Athanasius, convinced that he was being plotted against at the palace, neither dared to go to the emperor himself nor judged it useful. He chose five of the bishops of Egypt, among whom was Serapion of Thmuis, a man most godly in life and a powerful speaker, and sent them to the emperor, who was then staying in the West of the empire. With them he also sent three presbyters of his church, to reconcile the ruler to him, to answer, if need be, the slanders of his opponents, and to do whatever else they judged best for the church and for him. Not long after they had sailed, he received a letter from the emperor summoning him to the palace. At this Athanasius himself and the people of the church were troubled and in anguish, thinking it neither safe to obey the emperor, who was of another opinion, nor without danger to disobey. Yet the decision to stay prevailed, and the man who had brought the letter went back without success. The following summer another official came from the emperor and, with the governors of the province, pressed him to leave the city, and made bitter war on the clergy. When the people of the church took heart, and he saw them drawn up for battle, achieving nothing even so, he departed. Not long afterward the forces which the Romans call legions were summoned from Egypt and Libya; and when it was reported that Athanasius was hiding in the church called that of Theonas, the commander of the troops there, with soldiers, and Hilary, who had come again from the emperor to hasten these matters, unexpectedly at an untimely hour broke down the doors and entered the church. Searching everywhere, they did not find Athanasius inside. For it is said that he often escaped many other dangers through divine warnings, and that God showed him this attack beforehand; he went out at once, and the soldiers, who occupied the doors of the church, missed seizing him by a moment.

It seems one should not disbelieve that this man was dear to God and clearly foresaw the future. For we have received things about him more wonderful than those already told, bearing witness to his most exact knowledge of what was to come. Thus, the first time the emperor wished to harm him, while Constans was still alive, he became a fugitive and was hidden by one of his acquaintances; and for a long time he lived in a recess of the earth, in a sunless chamber that had formerly been a water cistern. No one knew of it except those with whom he was hidden and a maidservant who was thought trustworthy, so that she might wait on him. Since those of another opinion were very eager to capture the man, the maidservant, naturally won by gifts or promises, was about to betray him. But God revealed the plot beforehand, and he moved elsewhere in time; and the maidservant was punished for having informed falsely against her masters, who had fled. For those of the opposite sect made no small charge against those who received or hid Athanasius, but dragged them to court as disobedient to the emperor's commands and offenders against the state. Something similar happened to Athanasius at another time too, which has come to our hearing. When, for such a reason, he was fleeing to Egypt and sailing up the Nile, some people informed on him, and those who were to arrest him pursued him. Learning beforehand from God of the pursuit, he told his fellow passengers and ordered them to turn back to Alexandria. As they sailed down, he passed his pursuers sailing up, and came safely to the city, where among the crowd and the multitude of houses he lay hidden more safely. From such things, and many others he likewise foretold, he was slandered by his opponents, pagans and those of another opinion, as accomplishing them by sorcery. It is said, for instance, that once, as he was going through the city, a crow happened to fly overhead and caw. A crowd of pagans who were there, mocking him as a sorcerer, asked him to tell them what the crow was saying. Smiling quietly, he said: “Cras, which in the language of the Romans is ‘tomorrow.’ By crying this it announces that tomorrow will be unpleasant for you; for it signifies that by order of the emperor of the Romans you will be prevented from holding tomorrow's festival.” Athanasius's prediction, though it seemed laughable, proved true. For the next day a letter of the ruler was delivered to the governors, ordering them not to allow the pagans to go to the temples or to celebrate their customary rites and festivals; and the festival that happened to fall then, which the pagans revered and celebrated lavishly, was broken up. That the man had the gift of prophecy, this is enough to say. When, as has been said, he escaped those who had come to arrest him, the clergy and people under him held the churches for some time, until the prefect of Egypt and the commander of the soldiers there drove out those who obeyed him and handed the churches over to those who were waiting for George. Not long after, George himself arrived and held the churches under him. He was thought a tyrant, practising to rule more by force than in the manner and character of priests: wishing to be feared by all, and harsh to those who praised Athanasius, so that men and women suffered chains and beatings. Having fallen into general hatred for this reason, the people, moved to anger, set upon him while he was in the church and almost killed him. Having been in such danger, he barely escaped and fled to the emperor; and those of Athanasius's opinion held the churches. This did not last long. For the general of Egypt came and again handed over the churches to George's party. After this an imperial secretary from the order called notaries, sent to punish them, tortured and ill-treated many Alexandrians. Not long after, George himself returned, more fearsome, naturally, from what had happened, and more hated than before, as having moved the emperor to ill-treat many, and being accused by the monks of Egypt of unbelief and arrogance; and the people followed their opinion and held their testimony to be true, since they practised virtue and their life was one of philosophy.

These things befell Athanasius and the church of Alexandria in succession, not at the same time, after the death of Constans; for clarity I have related them together here. When the synod at Milan had broken up without result, the emperor put out of the way those who had opposed the efforts against Athanasius, condemning them to exile. Since he made much of the church everywhere agreeing about the doctrine and the priests being of one mind, he planned to call bishops from everywhere to the West. Considering that this was difficult because of the distance by land and sea between, he was at a loss what to do, but did not altogether give it up. Remaining of the same mind, before coming to Rome and holding the procession customary among the Romans over the conquered, he summoned Liberius, the bishop of Rome, and tried to persuade him to agree with the priests about him, among whom was Eudoxius. When he opposed and insisted that he would never do this, the emperor ordered him to be taken to Beroea in Thrace. It is said that besides this, another reason for Liberius's exile was that he did not choose to renounce communion with Athanasius, but bravely opposed the emperor on this, when the emperor accused Athanasius of having wronged the churches and, of his two brothers, of having destroyed the elder and, as far as lay in him, made Constans his enemy. When the emperor put forward the judgment of the bishops everywhere, and especially of those who met against him at Tyre, Liberius said that one should not rely on them, since they had in every way voted gladly out of enmity and favour. He asked that the faith handed down at Nicaea be confirmed by the signatures of the bishops everywhere, and that those living in exile on this account be recalled; and when this had been done, so as not to seem burdensome and costly, that public carriages or money be given to no one, but that all meet at their own expense at Alexandria, where were the one who had done wrong and those who had been wronged, the proofs of the charges, and an exact test of the truth about them. Showing the written testimony of Valens and Ursacius about Athanasius, which they had given to Julius, who governed the see of the Romans before him, asking pardon and declaring that what they had done in the Mareotis was false, he asked that the emperor not condemn Athanasius in his absence, nor trust those who had then voted, since the plot was plain. As for his brothers, he should not expect to avenge himself through a priestly hand, which God had ordained ready not for this but for sanctification and every just and good deed. When Liberius would not yield to what he commanded, the emperor ordered him to be taken to Thrace unless he changed his mind within two days. “I need no time to deliberate, emperor,” said Liberius; “this has long been deliberated and decided by me, and I am setting out on the road from here at once.” It is said that as he was being led away the emperor sent him five hundred gold pieces; he did not accept them, and said to the man who brought them: “Go and tell him who sent this gold to give it to the flatterers and hypocrites about him, whom insatiable want, harassing them daily, punishes for their greed, always desiring money and never satisfied. For us Christ, who is like the Father in all things, is the nourisher and steward of all good things.” For such a reason Liberius was deprived of the church of the Romans, and Felix, a deacon of the clergy there, was entrusted with it. They say that he remained of the same mind in faith as those who met at Nicaea and was altogether blameless in religion; this alone was charged against him, that before his ordination he had also tolerated communion with men of another opinion. When the emperor entered Rome and the people there kept crying out for Liberius and begging to have him back, he consulted with the bishops who were with him and answered that he would recall him and give him back to those who asked, if he agreed to be of one mind with the priests who were with him.

About this time Aetius openly taught the opinion he held about God. He was then a deacon of the church of Antioch, having been made one by Leontius. He held the same views as Arius, saying that the Son is a creature, from nothing, and unlike the Father. Being exceedingly contentious and bold in discourse about God, and using his reasonings confidently and with variety, he was thought to be of another opinion even by those who held like views. Expelled from their church, he alleged that he declined communion with them because they had wrongly communicated with Arius, “since,” he said, “Arius perjured himself when, having repented, he swore to the emperor Constantine that he agreed with those who had met at Nicaea.” So it is said. While the emperor was still staying in the western part of the empire, it was reported that Leontius, bishop of Antioch, had died. As the church there needed guarding, Eudoxius asked the emperor to let him return to Syria. Being permitted, he hastened to Antioch and secured the episcopate there for himself, without the consent of George, bishop of Laodicea, or Mark of Arethusa, who were then distinguished among the bishops of Syria, or of the others to whom the ordination belonged. It is said that he arranged this with the ruler's approval, with the help of the eunuchs of the palace, who with Eudoxius approved the doctrine of Aetius and held the Son to be unlike the Father. When he had taken possession of the church of Antioch, gaining freedom of speech, he openly headed this heresy. Meeting at Antioch with those of the same views, among whom were Acacius, bishop of Caesarea in Palestine, and Uranius of Tyre, he rejected both “of like essence” and “of the same essence,” on the pretext that the bishops of the West had so decided. For Hosius, with some of the priests there, forced at Sirmium, as has been said, to put an end to the contentiousness of Valens, Ursacius and Germanius, had agreed to say neither “of the same essence” nor “of like essence,” since the words were not known in the sacred Scriptures and it is beyond the mind of men to busy oneself about the essence of God. And as to those who had achieved this, they sent a letter to them, to Valens, Ursacius and Germanius, thanking them, and attributing to them the occasion of the right belief of those in the West.

When Eudoxius was making these innovations, and many of the church of Antioch who opposed him had been driven out, they took letters from George, bishop of Laodicea, and came to Ancyra in Galatia. For Basil happened to have called together many of the neighbouring bishops for the dedication of a church he had built, and to them they delivered George's letter. It reads as follows: “To my most honoured lords Macedonius, Basil, Cecropius and Eugenius, George sends greeting in the Lord. The shipwreck of Aetius has engulfed almost the whole of Antioch. For Eudoxius has taken up all the disciples of the ill-named Aetius who were dishonoured among you, and is promoting them to the clergy, holding the heretic Aetius among the most honoured. Take hold, then, of so great a city, lest by its shipwreck the world too be swept away. Meet together, as many as can, and demand signatures from the other bishops, so that Eudoxius may expel Aetius from the church of Antioch and cut off from the lists his disciples who have been promoted. Otherwise, if he persists with Aetius in calling the Son unlike, and in preferring those who dare to say this to those who do not, Antioch, as I said before, is lost to you.” Such were the contents of George's letter. The bishops at Ancyra, since Eudoxius's innovation had been demonstrated from what he had decided in writing about the doctrine with those who met with him at Antioch, informed the emperor of this, and asked that provision be made that what had been decided at Sardica and at Sirmium and at the other synods, at which it was agreed that the Son is like the Father in essence, should prevail. They chose as envoys to the emperor on this matter Basil, bishop of Ancyra, Eustathius of Sebaste, Eleusius of Cyzicus, and Leontius, a presbyter from the imperial bedchamber. When they arrived at the palace, they found Asphalius, a presbyter from Antioch and an ardent supporter of the heresy of Aetius, who had already accomplished what he had come for and had received a letter from the emperor and was about to depart. When the heresy had been exposed by the envoys from Ancyra, Constantius condemned Eudoxius's party, took back his own letter from Asphalius, and wrote the following.

“Victor Constantius, greatest, Augustus, to the holy church at Antioch. Eudoxius did not come from us; let no one think so. We are far from favouring such people. And if they use this sophistry along with others, they are plainly making a show about the highest matters. For from what would they willingly abstain, who go about the cities for the sake of power, leaping from one to another like migrants, prying into every corner in their desire for more? It is said that there are about them certain vagabonds and sophists, whom it is not right even to name: a wicked and most impious workshop. Surely you yourselves understand the company; surely you recognize Aetius from his words, and those who have given themselves to this heresy, whose one work is to corrupt the people. But these clever men, bold for anything, have already been so impudent as to tell some people that we rejoice in their ordination, which they have conferred on themselves. This is what is chanted by those who are accustomed to babble such things; but it is not true at all, nor anywhere near it. Recall to me the first discussions, when we were examining the faith, in which our Saviour was shown to be the Son of God and like the Father in essence. But these noble men, speaking glibly about the highest things whatever comes to them, have come to such impiety as to think other things contrary to the truth, and to try to teach others. That it will recoil on their own heads we firmly believe; meanwhile it will be enough that they be kept from synods and from any common assembly. For I would not be led to say at present what they will suffer shortly, unless they abstain from this madness. And (for what do they not add to the evil?) gathering the most wicked men as if by command, they enrol these very leaders of heresies in the clergy, debasing a venerable office as if they were free to do as they pleased with everything. Yet who that is counted among the living could bear these men, who fill the cities with impiety and conceal far-off places with defilements, loving this one work alone, to be at enmity with good men continually? Away with this villainous company that would set itself in holier seats! Now is the time for the nurslings of the truth to come out into the light, all who, having escaped …, were long held back by fear. Their wisdom has been exposed; no new manner of contrivance will rescue them from impiety. It is the work of good men to live with the faith of the fathers and, as has been said, to increase it, and not to busy themselves beyond it. I would advise those too who have at last turned back from the pit to submit to that vote which the bishops wise in divine things rightly passed concerning the highest matters.” In this way, then, the heresy of the so-called Anomoeans, which had come near to prevailing, was checked.

Not long afterward the emperor returned from Rome to Sirmium; and when the bishops of the West sent an embassy, he recalled Liberius from Beroea. In the presence of the envoys from the East, he gathered the priests who happened to be at the court and pressed him to confess that the Son is not of the same essence as the Father. Basil, Eustathius and Eleusius, who had very great freedom of speech with the ruler, insisted on this and urged him to it. They then gathered into one document what had been decided against Paul of Samosata and Photinus of Sirmium, and the creed set out at the dedication of the church of Antioch, on the ground that some, under pretext of the “same essence,” were trying to set up a heresy of their own; and they induced Liberius, Athanasius, Alexander, Severianus and Crescens, who were priests in Africa, to agree to it. Ursacius, Germinius of Sirmium, Valens, bishop of Mursa, and those from the East who were present agreed likewise. In their turn they also received from Liberius a confession anathematizing those who do not declare the Son to be like the Father in essence and in all things. For when Eudoxius and those with him at Antioch who favoured the heresy of Aetius received the letter of Hosius, they spread the story that Liberius too had rejected the “same essence” and held the Son to be unlike the Father. When these things had been accomplished by the envoys from the West, the emperor granted Liberius his return to Rome; and the bishops at Sirmium wrote to Felix, who then led the church of the Romans, and to the clergy there, to receive him, and that both should govern the apostolic see and serve as priests together in concord, and consign to oblivion the distressing things that had happened because of Felix's ordination and Liberius's absence. For the people loved Liberius as a good and upright man in other respects, and as one who had bravely opposed the emperor on behalf of the doctrine, so that a very great disturbance was stirred up, going as far as bloodshed. Felix survived only a short time, and Liberius alone presided over the church; God, it seems, so ordering it that the see of Peter should not be disgraced by being governed by two leaders, which is a sign of dissension and foreign to the law of the church.

These things had been done at Sirmium, and it seemed then, through fear of the emperor, that East and West agreed about the doctrine. Concerning the innovations at Antioch and the heresy of Aetius, the emperor decided to hold a synod at Nicaea. When Basil's party declined it, because the inquiry about the doctrine had taken place there long before, it was decided to hold it at Nicomedia in Bithynia, and by letters to summon urgently, for a set day, those bishops of each province who seemed most suitable to attend, able in thought and speech, so that they might take part in the synod in place of all the priests of the province and be present at the judgment. When most of them were on the road, the disaster of Nicomedia was announced, and that God had shaken the whole city. Since the report prevailed everywhere that the city had been utterly destroyed, the bishops on the road halted; for, as rumour is wont to do, it reported to those far off more than the sufferers had endured. It was said that Nicaea and Perinthus, the neighbouring cities, had shared in the calamity, and Constantinople too. What happened grieved the right-minded bishops not a little, since a church that was being magnificently built had been thrown down, and it gave those hostile to the religion a pretext to report to the emperor that a multitude of bishops and of men, children and women had perished, who had fled to the church in the hope of being saved there. But this was not true. For the earthquake struck at the second hour of a day that was not a day of assembly. Of the bishops, only Cecropius, bishop of Nicomedia itself, and another from the Bosporus were overtaken by it, outside the church, and perished. Since the city was thrown down in an instant, it was not possible for those who wished to flee elsewhere; but at the first experience of the danger, each, wherever he happened to stand, was for the most part either saved or killed. It is said that before this calamity happened, Arsacius foresaw it. He was a Persian by race; from being a soldier, a keeper of the imperial lions, he became a not undistinguished confessor under Licinius, and leaving the army he lived within the walls on the citadel of Nicomedia, practising philosophy. There a divine vision appeared to him and bade him leave the city, as it was about to suffer what it later suffered. Hastening at once to the church, he urged the clergy to entreat God earnestly and to perform propitiatory litanies for averting the threatened wrath. When he did not persuade them, and seemed ridiculous for announcing unexpected sufferings, he returned to the tower and, falling on his face, prayed. Meanwhile the earthquake struck; most perished, and those who survived fled to the fields and the desert. For, as in a prosperous and great city, there happened to be fire lit in every house, in braziers and ovens and in the furnaces of the baths and of all who work at crafts using fire; and as the roofs collapsed, the flame, shut in with the timbers, mixed, naturally, with brushwood and all oily things easy to set alight, was fed abundantly; creeping everywhere and joining with itself, it made the whole city, so to speak, one pyre. Since the houses were then inaccessible, those who had survived the earthquake ran to the citadel. Arsacius was found dead in the tower, which had not been shaken, lying face down as he had stretched himself out when he began his prayer. It is said that he then entreated God to let him die first, choosing rather to die than to see the calamity of the city in which he had first come to know Christ and shared in the church's philosophy. But since the account has brought us to this man, it should be known that through his favour with God he was able to drive out demons and to cleanse those troubled by them. Thus once a man possessed by a demon drew a sword and ran through the market-place. When everyone fled and the city was in uproar, Arsacius met him, named Christ, and struck him down with the word; at once he cleansed him and made him sane. Many other things beyond human power and skill were accomplished by him, and this too. There was a dragon, or some other kind of serpent, which killed passers-by with its breath before they saw it; for it lurked by the highway. Arsacius came there and prayed, and the serpent came out of its den of its own accord, struck its head twice on the ground, and killed itself. These things were related by those who said they had heard them from people who had seen Arsacius himself. The bishops, checked in their haste to the synod by the disaster of Nicomedia, some waited again for the emperor's decision, while others made known by letter their opinion about the faith. The ruler, at a loss what to do, wrote to Basil asking what should be done about the synod. Basil, praising him, naturally, by letter for his piety, and consoling him for the disaster of Nicomedia with examples from the sacred histories, urged him to hasten the synod and not to give it up, since the effort was for piety's sake, nor to send away without result the priests gathered for this purpose, who had already set out and were on the road; and he designated Nicaea as the place for the synod instead of Nicomedia, so that matters of faith might be set right there where the inquiry had begun. Basil wrote back in this way, conjecturing that he would show what pleased the emperor, since he himself had at first approved that the synod be held at Nicaea. On receiving Basil's letter, the emperor at first ordered them to meet at Nicaea at the beginning of summer, except any who were ill in body; these were to send in their place presbyters or deacons of their choice to declare their opinion, deliberate about the doubtful points, and agree together on everything; and ten from the western parts, and as many from the East, chosen by the common judgment of those who met, were to come to the palace and report what had been decided, so that he too might see whether they had agreed with one another according to the sacred Scriptures, and might carry out what was to be done as seemed best. After this, on reflection, he ordered all to remain where they were or in their own churches until a place should be fixed for the synod and they should be told to come to it. He wrote to Basil to inquire by letters of all the bishops in the East where the synod ought to be held, so that at the beginning of spring this might be made known to all; for he thought it not well to hold a synod at Nicaea, since that province was worn out by earthquakes. Basil, putting the emperor's letter at the head of a letter of his own, told the bishops of each province to consider and quickly make known the place that suited them. As usually happens in such matters, since not all chose the same place, Basil came to the emperor, who was then staying at Sirmium, and found there certain other bishops on their own business, Mark of Arethusa, and George, who had been entrusted with the leadership of the church of Alexandria. When it had already been decided that the synod should be held at Seleucia in Isauria, Valens's party (for he too was staying at Sirmium), who rejoiced in the heresy of the Anomoeans, were eager to get the bishops present at the court to sign a document of faith prepared in advance, in which the name of essence did not appear. While the synod was being pressed forward, the party of Eudoxius, Acacius, Ursacius and Valens reckoned that, of the bishops everywhere, some were zealous for the faith of Nicaea and others for the one set out at the dedication of the church of Antioch, each of which contains the name of essence and declares the Son like the Father in all things; and that if all met together, they would readily condemn the opinion of Aetius, which they themselves approved, as plainly at variance with both. So they arranged that those from the West should meet at Ariminum and those from the East at Seleucia in Isauria, so that, since it is easier to persuade a few than all, by dividing themselves between the two places they might, if they could, make both synods vote with them, or failing that, one of them, so that the heresy should not be anathematized by all votes. They were helped in this by Eusebius, the eunuch who presided over the imperial household, who was friendly to Eudoxius and of the same opinion besides, and by many of the powerful, who did him favours for Eusebius's sake.

The emperor, persuaded that it was profitable neither to the treasury, because of the expense, nor to the bishops, because of the long journeys, for all to meet in one place, divided the synod. He wrote to those then at Ariminum and at Seleucia to settle first the doubtful questions about the faith, and at the end, according to the law of the church, to deal with the bishops who complained that they had been unjustly deposed or exiled, of whom one was Cyril of Jerusalem, and to judge the charges brought against some of the bishops; for some accused others, and the Egyptians accused George of plunder and violence. When everything had been decided, ten from each side were to come to the palace to report what had been done. Accordingly each group gathered where they had been ordered to meet. The synod at Ariminum met first; more than four hundred took part. Those hostile to Athanasius judged it better to raise nothing about him. When the question was how one ought to believe, Valens and Ursacius came forward, supported by Germinius, Auxentius, Gaius and Demophilus, and asked that the documents on the faith already drawn up earlier be set aside, and that the one they had composed not long before at Sirmium in Latin should prevail, which taught that the Son is like the Father according to the Scriptures, but made no mention at all of essence in speaking of God. They said that the emperor too had approved it, and that the synod must accept it, no longer inquiring into each man's meaning, so that there might be no dissensions and strife from terms being handed over to debate and exact examination; for it was better, while speaking somewhat unlearnedly, to think rightly about God, than to introduce novelties of terms akin to the jargon of dialectic. They hinted at, or rather openly attacked, the term “of the same essence” as unknown to the sacred Scriptures and obscure to the many, and instead of it to say that the Son is like the one who begot him in all things, according to the divine Scriptures. When they had read the document they had brought containing these things, most of the bishops maintained that there was no need of a newer faith, but that what had been decided before them was enough; they had met now to prevent any innovation against it. If what had been read made no innovation upon it, they asked that the authors of this document should say so and openly anathematize the doctrine of Arius, which from that time until now had caused turmoil in the churches everywhere. When Ursacius, Valens, Germinius, Auxentius, Demophilus and Gaius avoided this proposal, the synod ordered the exposition against the other heresies and that of those who had met at Nicaea to be read, so as to anathematize the other heresies and to confirm what had been decided at Nicaea, and that thereafter no one should raise charges or ask for a synod about these matters, but be content with what had gone before. For it was absurd, as if they were only now beginning to believe, to compose such things and to slander the tradition of former times, which they themselves and those before them had used in governing the churches, most of whom had ended their lives in confessions and martyrdoms. Putting forward these arguments, they would make no innovation. When Valens's and Ursacius's party would not be persuaded, but insisted that the faith they put forward should prevail, they deposed them, voting the document they had read invalid. For it seemed absurd to them that it was headed, “As set out at Sirmium in the presence of Constantius the eternal Augustus, in the consulship of Eusebius and Hypatius”; as Athanasius, writing to his friends, says, it is ridiculous to call Constantius an eternal emperor while refusing to say that the Son of God is everlasting, and to prefix a definite date to this document, to the slander of the faith of the older generations and of those initiated before this date. When this had been done at Ariminum, Valens's and Ursacius's party, aggrieved at their deposition, hastened to the emperor.

The synod, putting forward twenty bishops, sent them as envoys. It wrote as follows, translated from the Latin: “We believe that it was by the command of God, and by the order of your Piety, that what was decreed was done. For from all the cities of the West we bishops have all come together to Ariminum, so that the faith of the catholic church might be made known and those who think the contrary might be exposed. As we have found after very long examination, it seemed good to keep the faith that has endured from of old, which the prophets, the Gospels and the apostles proclaimed of our Lord Jesus Christ, who is the overseer of your reign and the protector of your health, so that holding it fast we might guard it and keep it to the end. For it seemed absurd and unlawful to change anything of what was rightly and justly defined, and of what was considered in common at Nicaea with the most glorious Constantine, your father and emperor, whose teaching and mind have gone out and been proclaimed to the hearing and understanding of all men. It stands as the adversary and has been the destroyer of the Arian heresy; through it not only that heresy but all the others were overthrown. In it, truly, to add anything is hazardous and to take anything away is dangerous; for if either were done, the enemies would have licence to do what they wish. Therefore Ursacius and Valens, since they had long been sharers and counsellors of the Arian doctrine, were declared separated from our communion; and to share in it again they asked for repentance and pardon for the faults of which they were conscious, as the documents made by them bear witness, through which forbearance was shown to them all and pardon for the charges. The time when this was done was when the council of the synod was being held at Milan, the presbyters of the church of the Romans also being present. We knew too that Constantine, worthy of remembrance after his death, set out the faith composed with all exactness and examination; and since, having been baptized, he departed from men and went to his due peace, it is absurd to innovate anything after him, and to disregard so many holy confessors and martyrs, and those who were the writers and discoverers of the doctrine, who have continued holding everything according to the ancient law of the catholic church. Their faith God has handed on even to the times of your reign, through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom it has been given you so to reign as to rule the world of our part. Yet again these wretched men, pitiable in mind, with lawless daring have proclaimed themselves heralds of an impious opinion, and are trying to overturn the whole system of truth. For when, according to your command, the council of the synod was being held, they too laid bare the design of their own deceit. For they tried, with some cunning and disturbance, to bring forward something new, having found partners in such heterodoxy, Germinius, Auxentius and Gaius, who cause strife and division. Their teaching, not abiding, has surpassed every multitude of blasphemies. When they saw that they were not of the same heresy, nor of one mind in their wrong thinking, they brought themselves over into our council, so as to seem to write something different. But the time was short which exposed their opinions. So, in order that the affairs of the church may not fall into the same troubles, and that turmoil and tumult rolling on may not hold everyone, it seemed secure to keep what was defined of old and unmovable, and that the aforesaid should be separated from our communion. For this reason we have sent envoys to your Clemency to inform you, who will make known the judgment of the council by our letter. We have charged the envoys above all to confirm the truth from what was justly defined of old; they will inform your Holiness that it is not as Ursacius and Valens said, that there will be peace if anything of what is just is overturned. For how can those who destroy peace keep peace? Rather, from them strife and turmoil will arise in the other cities and in the church of the Romans. Therefore we entreat your Clemency to look upon our envoys with gentle ears and a calm countenance, and not to permit anything new to be changed, to the insult of the dead, but to let us remain in what was defined and enacted by our forefathers, who, we would say, did everything with sagacity and understanding and the Holy Spirit. For the innovations they are now making have produced unbelief in those who believe and hardness in those who do not. We entreat further that you order the bishops living in foreign lands, who are worn by the hardship of age and the want of poverty, to be given an easy return to their own homes, so that the churches may not remain bereft, their bishops being cut off. Besides all this we ask also this, that nothing be lacking or added to what existed before, but that everything remain unbroken, as preserved from the piety of your father to the present time; and that you do not permit us to toil any longer and to become strangers to our own dioceses, but that the bishops with their own people may in peace have leisure for festivals and worship, praying for your safety, reign and peace, which the Godhead will grant you for ever. Our envoys bring the signatures and the names of the bishops; they will also inform your Divinity from the divine writings themselves.”

Such was the letter of those who met at Ariminum. Ursacius's and Valens's party, arriving before the envoys sent by the synod, showed the emperor the document they had read and slandered the synod. He, grieved perhaps that they had not accepted this faith, since it had been confirmed in his own presence at Sirmium, held them in honour, but neglected the envoys and disregarded them as they wore themselves out waiting. At length he wrote to the synod, excusing himself on the ground that an urgent journey against the barbarians pressed him, and for this reason he could not see the envoys; and he ordered them to wait at Adrianople for his return, so that, when public affairs had been well settled, he might, free of cares, hear and examine the envoys' business; for one who is going to deal with divine matters ought to have his soul free of other things. So he wrote. To this the synod replied, insisting that it would in no way depart from what had been decided, that it had written this and charged its envoys accordingly; and it begged him to see them kindly, to hear what it had charged them, and to read what had been written; for he too would find it grievous that so many churches should be without bishops in the time of his reign; and they ought, if he agreed, to return to their churches before winter. Having written this, composing the letter, as was fitting, in the form and language of a petition, they waited a short time; and when he made no reply, they withdrew to their cities. That those who met at Ariminum voted from the beginning for what had been decided at Nicaea, what has been said bears witness. It must now be told how they later agreed to the document brought forward by Valens's and Ursacius's party. Different accounts of this have come to me. Some say that the emperor, making the departure of the bishops from Ariminum against his will a pretext for insult, allowed Valens and those with him to govern the churches of the West as they wished, to publish the faith that had been read at Ariminum, to expel from the churches those who refused to sign it, and to ordain others in their place; and that, taking licence from this, they forced people to sign this faith, and drove from the churches many who would not comply, Liberius, bishop of the Romans, first of all. When they had done this to those in Italy, they planned to arrange the churches of the East in the same way. Passing through Thrace, they came to Nice, a city of that province; holding a council there, they translated the document read at Ariminum into Greek, published it and confirmed it, and spread the story that the faith of Nice had been dictated and approved by the ecumenical synod. They did this at Nice on purpose, and gave it this name, so that the simpler might readily be persuaded to assent to this faith, deceived by the similarity of the names and thinking it the document confirmed at Nicaea. So say some. Others say that when the synod of Ariminum was worn out by waiting, since the emperor neither deigned to answer the bishops nor allowed them to leave, those zealous for the opposite sect sent in certain people to advise them that it was not worth while for the priests everywhere to quarrel over one word, that of essence, when they could say the Son is like the Father and remove the grounds of strife; for those in the East would never be quiet unless the name of essence were removed. When these mediators had made such clever arguments, the synod was persuaded to agree to the document pressed by Ursacius's party. These, fearing that the envoys sent by the synod to the emperor would arrive and make known the original resistance of the Western bishops and the reason for removing the “same essence,” detained the envoys at Nice in Thrace, alleging that because of the winter and the hardships of the public pack animals the journey would not be easy; and they persuaded them to translate the document they had read from Latin, put it into Greek, and send it to the bishops in the East. For in this way the document, composed to suit their purpose, would achieve what they were aiming at, while the deceit would not be detected by those who might refute it, namely that those at Ariminum had not departed from the name of essence willingly, but on the pretext concerning the Easterners, as though these rejected the name. This was plainly false; for all except a few maintained that the Son is like the Father in essence too; they differed only in that some called the Son of the same essence, others of like essence. Some will tell these things one way and some another.

While events in Italy were taking place as described, before the synod at Seleucia met, very great disturbances occurred in the East. Acacius's and Patrophilus's party removed Maximus and entrusted the church of Jerusalem to Cyril. Macedonius, holding Constantinople, troubled the surrounding cities, when he began to ordain, having Eleusius and Marathonius as helpers. Marathonius, formerly a deacon of his church and a zealous administrator of the poor-houses and the monastic communities of men and women, he made bishop of Nicomedia; and Eleusius, who had served with distinction in the palace, bishop of Cyzicus. They say that both were good in their lives, but zealous in ill-treating those who held the Son to be of the same essence as the Father, though not so simply as Macedonius. For he not only drove out those who refused to communicate with him, but imprisoned them and handed them over to judges; others he forced to communicate against their will, seizing uninitiated children and women and initiating them. Moreover he pulled down many churches in many places, putting forward an imperial order commanding that the houses of prayer of those who maintained that the Son is of the same essence as the Father be pulled down. For this reason the church of the Novatians at the place called Pelargus in Constantinople was also pulled down. It is said that on this occasion those of this sect did a brave deed, and perhaps those of the catholic church helped them as being of the same mind. For when those who had been ordered to demolish it gave orders, they came together with their whole households; some took down the timbers, others carried them across to Sycae opposite; and quickly the work was done, for not only men took part, but women and children, each offering the work to God and exceedingly eager. With the same zeal this church was rebuilt in the same way, and from that event has been named Anastasia. For when Constantius died, Julian, succeeding to the empire, gave back the site to the Novatians and allowed them to build the church; this was done, the people helping eagerly and bringing back the same timbers from Sycae. These things happened later. At that time the Novatians and those of the catholic church were almost united. For holding the same views about the Divine, being driven out together and being in the same misfortunes, they were well disposed to each other; they met together and prayed together, since those of the catholic church had no house of prayer, all having been taken away by those who held the views of Arius; and, naturally, reasoning from their constant intercourse that they differed with each other in vain, they planned to communicate with each other. And this would have happened, I think, had not the jealousy of a few, who said that there was an ancient …, harmed the eagerness of the many.

About this time Eleusius too pulled down entirely the church of the Novatians at Cyzicus. Those who lived in Mantinium, and other Paphlagonians, shared most in these evils. For Macedonius, learning that most people there held the views of Novatus, and that the churchmen alone were not enough to drive them out, persuaded the emperor to send four companies of soldiers for this purpose; for he thought that people unaccustomed to arms, if they saw soldiers, would be frightened and at once change to his opinion. But it turned out otherwise. The people of Mantinium armed themselves, each as he could, with sickles, axes and whatever came to hand, and engaged the soldiers. A fierce battle took place, and very many of the Paphlagonians fell, and almost all the soldiers. From then on many of his friends blamed Macedonius as the cause of such great calamities; and the emperor too turned against him and was no longer well disposed toward him. A pretext for greater hostility arose as follows. Macedonius wished to move the coffin of the emperor Constantine elsewhere, since the building that covered it threatened to collapse. Of the people, some agreed to this, others opposed it, thinking it impious, like digging up a grave. Those who upheld the doctrine of the synod of Nicaea joined these, not enduring that the body of Constantine, who had been of their opinion, should be insulted, and eager, I think, to oppose Macedonius. But he, paying no heed, moved the coffin to the church in which is the tomb of Acacius the martyr. The people, some praising what had been done and others blaming it, turned on one another in the church itself, and in the end filled the house of prayer itself and the area round it with blood and slaughter. The emperor, still staying in the western part of the empire, was angry when he learned of this; and as though his father had been insulted, he blamed Macedonius for the misfortunes of the people and was enraged with him. Having decided to go to Constantinople, he set out on the journey, and calling his cousin Julian, he made him Caesar and sent him to the western Gauls.

Meanwhile the bishops of the East, about one hundred and sixty in number, gathered at Seleucia in Isauria. It was the year in which Eusebius and Hypatius were consuls. Leonas, who held a distinguished rank in the palace, had come with them by order of Constantius and was present at the synod, so that the statement of faith about the doctrine might be made in his presence. Lauricius, the commander of the soldiers of the province, was also present, to provide whatever might be needed, for the emperor's letter ordered him to assist. At the first session certain other bishops were absent, as well as Patrophilus of Scythopolis, Macedonius of Constantinople, and Basil of Ancyra. The pretexts were different for the others; for Patrophilus an eye disease, for Macedonius illness. But there was a suspicion that they did not come then for fear of the charges of their accusers. When the others declined to examine the doubtful matters because of their absence, Leonas nevertheless ordered them to raise the questions. From then on some said it was necessary first to examine the doctrine, others to scrutinize the lives of those accused among them, among whom were Cyril of Jerusalem and Eustathius of Sebaste. The emperor's letters gave them a pretext, declaring now one thing and now another. Beginning from this dispute, they were no longer on good terms with one another, but were divided in two. Yet it prevailed that the debate about the doctrine should come first. When they came to such discussions, some thought it right to remove the name of essence altogether, putting forward the faith which Mark had composed not long before at Sirmium, and which those present at the court had accepted, among whom was Basil, bishop of Ancyra. But most were zealous for the faith set out at the dedication of the church of Antioch. Leading the former opinion were Eudoxius, Acacius, Patrophilus, George of Alexandria, Uranius of Tyre and thirty-two others; leading the second, George of Laodicea in Syria, Eleusius of Cyzicus, and Sophronius of Pompeiopolis in Paphlagonia, whom the majority followed. Acacius's party were suspected of differing from the others about the doctrine on purpose, and on this pretext of escaping the scrutiny of the charges against them; since earlier, in what they had written to Macedonius, bishop of Constantinople, they had agreed that the Son is like the Father in all things and of the same essence, and now they shamelessly fought against their former confessions. When many had been stirred to contention, Silvanus, bishop of Tarsus, cried out that it was intolerable to introduce a new document of another faith besides the one approved at Antioch; this alone ought to prevail. At this Acacius's party, annoyed, rose and left; the others then read what had been decided at Antioch. The next day, meeting in the church, they shut the doors, and by themselves confirmed it. Acacius denounced what had been done in this way, and privately showed Leonas and Lauricius the document he was pressing. On the third day the others met again, with Macedonius and Basil, who had been absent before. Acacius and his party refused to take part in the assembly unless those deposed and accused by them left first; and this was done. For those of the other side agreed, supposing that Acacius was seeking this pretext to break up the synod, so that both the heresy of Aetius and they themselves might escape the present examination and the scrutiny of the charges. When all were present, Leonas said he had a book handed in by Acacius's party; it was a statement of faith with a certain preface, and the others were not aware of it, for Leonas, holding Acacius's views, had deliberately concealed it. When it was read, the assembly was filled with uproar. For it declared that, although the emperor had ordered that nothing be introduced into the faith beyond the sacred Scriptures, certain persons, bringing in men deposed from various provinces and bishops unlawfully appointed, had thrown the synod into confusion, insulting some and not allowing others to speak; that they themselves did not reject the faith set out at Antioch, even though those who met there had introduced this document to meet the inquiry of that time; but since “of the same essence” and “of like essence” still trouble many, and some have lately attempted the innovation that the Son is unlike the Father, therefore “of the same essence” and “of like essence” must be cast out as foreign to the Scriptures, and “unlike” anathematized, and the likeness of the Son to the Father clearly confessed; for he is, as Paul the apostle says somewhere, “the image of the invisible God.” After this preface they attached a document of faith agreeing neither with what was decided at Nicaea nor with what was decided at Antioch, but composed so simply that even those holding the views of Arius and Aetius would not seem to err if they believed thus. For they passed over the terms by which those who met at Nicaea cast out the opinion of Arius, and kept silent also on the Son's being unchangeable in his divinity, the exact image of the Father's essence, will, power and glory, as was said at the synod at Antioch; they confessed that they believe in the Father, and believe also in the Son and the Holy Spirit; and using for each certain common epithets, which conflicted neither with themselves nor with those of the opposite opinion, they voted those who believe otherwise strangers to the catholic church. Such were the contents of the book brought forward by Leonas, signed by Acacius himself and those who followed him. After it was read, Sophronius the Paphlagonian cried out: “If setting out one's own wish each day is an exposition of faith, the exactness of the truth will fail us.” When Acacius maintained that nothing prevented another document being dictated, since the faith of Nicaea too had been altered once and many times afterward, Eleusius took him up and said: “But the synod has been convened now, not to learn what it has not learned, nor to receive another faith besides that already approved by those who met at Antioch”; and he said they would hold to it to life and death. As the debate went on thus, they passed to another question, and asked Acacius's party in what respect they confessed the Son to be like the Father. When they said, in will only, but not in essence, all the others insisted that he is like in essence too; and they refuted Acacius from the treatise he had written and published, as having formerly held the same view as they. When he said that one ought not to bring charges from writings, and the debate grew more contentious, at last Eleusius of Cyzicus said: “Whether Basil or Mark did something on their own, or whether they and Acacius's party accuse one another privately on certain matters, makes no difference to the synod; nor is it necessary to inquire whether the faith set out by them is good or otherwise. But one must follow the faith ratified at Antioch by the ninety-seven priests of older times; and if anyone introduces anything contrary to it, he is a stranger to piety and to the church.” When all with him applauded this, the assembly was then dissolved. The next day Acacius's and George's party would no longer consent to meet together. Nor did Leonas come when summoned; for he now openly held their views. Indeed, those who went to him found Acacius's party in his house. When they begged and summoned him to the assembly, he would not comply, saying that the synod was divided, and that he had been ordered by the emperor to be present when all agreed and met together. As time went by, the others often summoned Acacius's party, who at one time demanded that certain persons meet at Leonas's house, at another insisted that they had been ordered by the emperor to judge the others. They would neither confess the same faith, nor make a defence on the charges, nor consent to come to the examination concerning Cyril, whom they themselves had deposed; and there was no one to compel them. So the others deposed, among some others, George, bishop of Alexandria, Acacius of Caesarea, Uranius of Tyre, Patrophilus of Scythopolis and Eudoxius of Antioch; and they excommunicated most others until they made their defence on the charges brought, and wrote what had been done to the church of each. In place of Eudoxius they ordained Adrian bishop of Antioch, a presbyter of the clergy there. Acacius's party seized him and handed him over to Leonas and Lauricius, who then kept him under military guard, and later condemned him to exile. Such, in brief, was the end of the synod at Seleucia. Anyone who wishes to know each detail exactly will learn it from the records of what was done there, which shorthand writers who were present wrote down.

When this had happened, Acacius's party hastened to the palace, and the others each went home. The ten who, as had been ordered, had been entrusted by common decision to go to the emperor found there the ten sent by those who had met at Ariminum, and found that Acacius's party had already brought the powerful men in the palace round to their views and through them had secured the ruler's goodwill. For, as was said, some of these were of their opinion, others had been corrupted by church property, and others deceived by flattering words and by the standing of the persuader. For Acacius was not thought an ordinary man: he was by nature able in thought and speech and in carrying out what he planned; he presided over a distinguished church; and boasting of Eusebius son of Pamphilus, whom he succeeded in the episcopate, as his teacher, he claimed by reputation and by succession to his books to know more than others. Being such a man, he easily arranged what he wished. When the twenty from both synods were at Constantinople, together with others who happened to be staying there, the question concerning Aetius was first entrusted to them to judge, in the presence of the leading members of the great council, Honoratus, whom the emperor, on returning not long before from the western part of the empire, had appointed first prefect of Constantinople. Afterward, when Constantius himself examined it with the magistrates, Aetius was found to be ill-minded about the faith, so that the emperor and the others were angered at his blasphemous words. It is said that Acacius's party, who pretended at first not to know of this heresy, deliberately pressed for the emperor and those about him to judge it, thinking that Aetius would be invincible in argument and able to win his hearers by the force of persuasion, so that they might strengthen the heresy without effort. When this turned out contrary to their hopes, they brought forward the document brought from Ariminum and asked the envoys of the synod at Seleucia to accept it. When these insisted that they would by no means leave out the name of essence, they persuaded them with oaths that they did not hold the Son to be unlike in essence, and were ready to anathematize this heresy. But since the Westerners at Ariminum had unexpectedly left out the name of essence, they insisted that this document was much to be desired; “for if it prevails,” they said, “then together with the name of essence the ‘same essence’ will be silenced, which the priests of the West valued highly out of respect for the synod of Nicaea.” Besides this, the emperor himself was persuaded to approve this document, considering the great number of those who had met at Ariminum, and reckoning that one would not err in confessing “like” instead of “of the same essence,” and that it made no difference to the meaning if one did not use terms unknown to sacred Scripture, but confessed the same meaning in the equivalent and undisputed term “like.” Being of this mind, he ordered the bishops to agree on the document set out by those who had met at Ariminum. Preparing on the next day for the consular procession, as is the Roman custom on the first day of their month January, he spent the whole day and much of the following night among the bishops, examining the matter, until those who had come from Seleucia signed the document brought from Ariminum.

Acacius's party stayed for some time at Constantinople and summoned the bishops of Bithynia, among whom were Maris of Chalcedon and Ulfilas of the Goths. Being fifty in number, they met together and confirmed the document read at Ariminum, adding that thenceforth neither essence nor subsistence should be named at all in speaking of God, and that every other document besides this one, whether already made or to come, was anathematized. When they had done this, they deposed Aetius from the diaconate, as one who wrote and held discussions contentiously, with a display of wisdom foreign to the church's purpose, and blasphemously, and as a cause of turmoil and strife to the churches. It is said by some that they deposed him not from conviction but to clear themselves and their reputation with the emperor, for they were accused of holding his views. Taking advantage of the emperor's anger, which he had against Macedonius for the reasons stated above, they deposed him, and Eleusius, bishop of Cyzicus, Basil of Ancyra, Heortasius of Sardis, and Dracontius of Pergamum. Though they differed with them about the doctrine, in deposing them they did not find fault with their faith, but brought charges: in common against all, that they had troubled the churches and sinned against the laws of the church; and particular charges against each. Against Basil, that when Diogenes, a presbyter from Alexandria, was passing through Ancyra, he took his papers from him and beat him; and that he ordered the magistrates to punish without trial, with exile and other penalties, clergy from Antioch and the region of the Euphrates, Cilicians, Galatians and Asians, so that they experienced iron chains and had to give up their property to the soldiers who led them away, so as not to be ill-treated. They charged him also that when the emperor ordered Aetius and some of his companions to be brought to Cecropius to answer the charges he made, he persuaded the man entrusted with the ruler's order to do what he himself thought fit; that he wrote to Hermogenes the prefect and to the governor of Syria saying who should be deported and where; and that when the emperor recalled them from exile, he did not allow it, opposing magistrates and priests. They added that he had stirred up the clergy of Sirmium against Germinius; that, writing that he was in communion with him and with Valens and Ursacius, he slandered them to the bishops of Africa; that when accused he denied it and perjured himself, and when caught tried to quibble about the perjury; and that he had been a cause of dissension and strife to the Illyrians, Italians and Africans and of what happened to the church of the Romans. That he had a slave-girl put in chains and tried to force her to give false testimony against her mistress; that he baptized a man who had lived shamefully, living with a woman not by the law of marriage, and counted him worthy to serve God as a deacon; that he did not cut off from the church a periodeutes who had caused deaths; and that at the holy table he made conspiracies, cursing and making the clergy swear not to accuse one another, which was a device for him, as head of the clergy, to escape the charges of accusers. Such, in brief, were the reasons they gave for the deposition of Basil. Of Eustathius: first, that while he was a presbyter, his father Eulalius, being bishop of the church of Caesarea in Cappadocia, had condemned him and excluded him from the prayers; after this he had been excommunicated by a synod at Neocaesarea in Pontus; and he had been deposed by Eusebius, bishop of Constantinople, being condemned in certain administrations entrusted to him; then, for teaching, doing and thinking what he ought not, he was removed from the episcopate by those who met at Gangra; at the synod at Antioch he was convicted of perjury; and he was trying to overturn what had been decided by those who met at Melitene; and though liable to very many charges, he claimed to be a judge and called the others heterodox. Eleusius they deposed because he had thoughtlessly admitted to the ministry of God a certain Heraclius, a Tyrian by race, who had been priest of Heracles there, had been indicted for sorcery and was wanted, and for this reason was living as a fugitive at Cyzicus, pretending to be a Christian; and after learning that he was not such, he did not separate him from the church; and because he ordained without examination men condemned by Maris, bishop of Chalcedon, a member of this synod, who had come to Cyzicus. Heortasius they deposed because he had become bishop of Sardis without the consent of the bishops of Lydia; and Dracontius of Pergamum because he had formerly been bishop in Galatia; and they annulled the ordination of each as unlawful. After this they met again and deposed Silvanus, bishop of Tarsus, Sophronius of Pompeiopolis in Paphlagonia, Elpidius of Satala, and Neon of Seleucia in Isauria. They deposed Silvanus as leader of folly to the others, at Seleucia and at Constantinople, and because he had set Theophilus over the church of Castabala, who had earlier been ordained bishop of Eleutheropolis by the bishops of Palestine and had sworn not to enter another episcopate without their consent. Sophronius, because he tried to make gain and traffic with what was offered to the church, and after a first and a second summons, when he barely came, would not defend himself before them on the charges, but chose outside judges. Neon, because he had been eager to have Annianus ordained bishop of Antioch in his own church, and had made bishops of certain people inexperienced in the sacred Scriptures and the laws of the church, who were engaged in civic affairs, who afterward preferred the possession of money to the priesthood and chose in writing to serve while keeping their property rather than be bishops without it. Elpidius, because he had joined with Basil to make trouble and was a leader of disorder; and because, contrary to what had been decided at the synod at Melitene, he restored to the presbyterate one Eusebius, a man who had been deposed, and admitted to the diaconate one Nectaria, who had been excommunicated for breaking agreements, though she had no claim to this honour according to the laws of the church.

With these they also deposed Cyril of Jerusalem, for having communicated with Eustathius and Elpidius, who had worked against those who met at Melitene, with whom he too had met; and because after his deposition in Palestine he had shared communion with Basil and George, bishop of Laodicea. When he was entrusted with the episcopate of Jerusalem, he disputed with Acacius of Caesarea about metropolitan rights, as presiding over an apostolic see. From this they fell into enmity and slandered each other as not holding sound views about God; for each had been under suspicion before, Acacius as teaching the doctrines of Arius, Cyril as following those who taught that the Son is of like essence with the Father. Being of this mind, Acacius, with the bishops of the province who shared his views, deposed Cyril first, on the following pretext. When famine seized the region of Jerusalem, the multitude of the needy, lacking necessary food, looked to the bishop; and since there was no money with which to help them, he sold treasures and sacred hangings. From these, it is said, someone recognized an offering of his own worn by a woman of the stage; he inquired where she had got it and found that a merchant had sold it to her, and the bishop to the merchant. Putting forward this charge, Acacius deposed him. So the matter stands, as I have learned. Those mentioned, deposed as has been said, Acacius's party drove from Constantinople. Those with them who would not sign the depositions, ten in number, they ordered to remain by themselves for the time being, and neither to minister nor to govern the churches until they signed them; and if they did not repent within six months and agree to all that had been decided and done at this synod, they too were to be deposed, and the bishops of each province were to meet and ordain others in their place. When they had resolved on this and carried it out, they wrote to the bishops and clergy everywhere to observe and carry out these things. Not long after, Eudoxius's party set up others in place of the deposed, one for another: Eudoxius himself in place of Macedonius, Athanasius in place of Basil, Eunomius, who afterward became the founder of the sect called after him, in place of Eleusius, and in place of Eustathius, Meletius was entrusted with the church of Sebaste.

Macedonius, deprived of the church of Constantinople, lived in a place near the gates, where he died. Eudoxius took possession of the church. It was in the consulship of Constantius for the tenth time and Julian Caesar for the third that, holding his first assembly at the dedication of the great church which they call Sophia, he is said to have mounted the priest's platform as if to teach the people and to have begun his discourse by saying: “The Father is impious, the Son pious.” When the people were in uproar, he said: “Be quiet. The Father is impious because he reveres no one; the Son is pious because he reveres the Father.” By saying this he turned his hearers to laughter. He and Acacius together made every effort to bring everyone to forget what had been decided at Nicaea; they sent the document read at Ariminum, with what they had added by way of correction, throughout the whole empire, and ordered that those who would not sign it be punished with exile, according to the emperor's command. For they reckoned, it is said, that in this way they would achieve their aim without effort. But this was the beginning of very great calamities. A turmoil like those described spread through the whole empire, and a persecution almost like those formerly under the pagan emperors held the churches everywhere. For if it seemed milder in bodily punishments, it naturally appeared harsher to the right-minded because of its shamefulness. For both the persecutor and the persecuted came from the church; and the evil was the more shameful, in that to treat one's own people as enemies is something the priestly law forbids one to do even to foreigners.

Novelty, when praised, advances still further: it creeps on toward innovation, grows arrogant, despises the ancestral teachings, and lays down laws of its own. It does not deign to hold the same views about God as those of older times, but always devising strange doctrines, it does not rest, eager for things newer than the new, as happened now too. For when Macedonius had been deprived of the church of Constantinople, he no longer held the same views as Acacius's and Eudoxius's party. He taught that the Son is God and like the Father in all things and in essence; but he declared that the Holy Spirit has no share in the same prerogatives, calling him a minister and servant, and saying of him whatever one might say of the divine angels without error. Eleusius and Eustathius shared this opinion with him, and all who were then deposed at Constantinople by those of the opposite sect; and no small part of the people obeyed them in Constantinople, Bithynia, Thrace, the Hellespont and the neighbouring provinces. For in their manner of life too, to which the multitude pays most attention, they were not unworthy: their bearing was grave, their discipline like that of monks, their speech not unrefined, and their character able to persuade. Such, they say, Marathonius was at that time. Having gathered great wealth as paymaster of the soldiers under the prefects, when he left the service he took charge of the houses of the sick and the poor; afterward, persuaded by Eustathius, bishop of Sebaste, he embraced the ascetic life and founded a community of monks at Constantinople, which still survives from that time by succession. He helped this sect with such zeal and his own money that some called Macedonius's followers Marathonians, not without reason, it seems to me; for he alone, with his community, appears to have been the reason why this sect was not entirely extinguished at Constantinople. For from the time Macedonius was deposed they had neither churches nor bishops until the reign of Arcadius; for the Arians did not allow it, driving all of contrary opinion from the churches and punishing them severely. To list all the priests who were then driven from their own cities would be a task; for no province of the Roman world, I think, remained untouched by such a calamity.

At that time, when Eudoxius held the church of Constantinople, many were eager to secure the see of Antioch for themselves; and, as is natural in such matters, rivalries and various disturbances arose among the clergy and the people. For each party chose that the man it expected to share its own faith should rule the church. For they had not yet ceased from their dispute about the doctrine, nor were they agreed in their psalm-singing, but, as was said before, adapted what was sung to their own opinion. The church of Antioch being in this state, Eudoxius's party thought it well to transfer Meletius there from Sebaste, as one able in speech and persuasion, good in his life, and formerly of the same opinion as they. For they thought that by the man's reputation they would win over to their own sect the inhabitants of Antioch and the surrounding cities, and especially those called Eustathians, who held their views about God according to the tradition of the synod of Nicaea. But they were to be greatly disappointed in their hope. For when he came to Antioch, it is said that great crowds gathered, both of those who held the views of Arius and of those in communion with Paulinus: some to see the man, since great fame had gone before his arrival; others to learn what he would say and with whom he would side. For a report was already going about that he approved the doctrine of those who met at Nicaea; and the outcome showed it. At first he taught publicly what are called ethical discourses; but at last he openly declared the Son to be of the same essence as the Father. It is said that the archdeacon who was then of the clergy there ran up while he was still saying this, put his hand on his mouth and stopped it. But he made his opinion known more clearly with his hand than with his voice: holding out three fingers only to view, he brought them together again and raised one, showing the people by the shape of his hand what he believed and was prevented from saying. When the archdeacon, at a loss, seized his hand and let go of his mouth, his tongue, freed, declared his opinion still more clearly in a loud voice; he urged them to hold to what had been decided at Nicaea, and testified to his hearers that those who thought otherwise missed the truth. When he did not give way, saying the same things or showing them with his hand by turns, as the archdeacon's hindrance allowed, and there was a struggle between them almost like a pancratium, the Eustathians shouted aloud, rejoiced and leaped, while the Arians were downcast. When Eudoxius's party heard of it, they were indignant and worked to have Meletius driven from the city; and they summoned him again, as though he had repented and would correct what he had said and hold the contrary. When he did not change his mind, the emperor ordered him to be expelled from the church and to live in exile. When this had happened, Euzoius, who had formerly been deposed together with Arius, was entrusted with the see of Antioch. Meletius's admirers cut themselves off from those who held the views of Arius and held their assemblies apart; for those who from the beginning held the Son to be of the same essence as the Father refused to communicate with them, because Meletius had been ordained by Arian bishops and his followers had been baptized by such priests. So they were divided on this pretext, though holding the same views. The emperor, hearing that the Persians were making a move, came to Antioch.

Acacius's party could not keep quiet again; meeting at Antioch with a few others, they found fault with what they had themselves already decided, and resolved to cut out the word “like” from the document read at Ariminum and Constantinople; and they held that the Son is unlike the Father in all things, in essence and in will, and came into being from nothing, as Arius had held from the beginning. Those who held the views of Aetius helped them, who after Arius was the first who dared to use these terms openly; hence he was called godless, and those who approved his views Anomoeans and Exoucontians. When those who followed what was decided at Nicaea asked them how, confessing the Son to be God from God, they dared to call him unlike and from nothing, contrary even to their own exposition, they said: “Because Paul the apostle said, ‘All things are from God,’ and the Son is one of all things; and in this sense, according to the divine Scriptures, what is set down in our exposition is to be understood.” So they paraphrased and quibbled. In the end, since they could not defend themselves adequately against those who accused or reproached them on these points, they read again the faith approved at Constantinople, broke up, and went back to their own cities.

Meanwhile, while Athanasius was still in hiding, George returned to Alexandria and harshly ill-treated the pagans and the Christians who held views different from his own. He forced both to worship as he wished and drove out those who refused. He was hated by those of rank, as one who despised them and gave orders to the magistrates, and by the multitude as tyrannical and more powerful than all. The pagans were especially angry because he prevented them from sacrificing and from keeping their ancestral festivals, and because, bringing soldiers and the general of Egypt under arms into the city, he took away images, offerings and the ornaments in the temples. This later became the pretext for his death, as I shall tell shortly. When Cyril had been deposed, as has been said, Herennius received the church of Jerusalem, and after him Heraclius, and after him Hilarius. For we have received that these governed the church there at that time, until the reign of Theodosius, when Cyril returned to the same see.

Such were the events concerning the churches in the East. Meanwhile Julian the Caesar, having defeated in battle the barbarians along the river Rhine, slew some and took others alive. Having shown himself brilliant at that time, and having won the favour of the soldiers by his moderation and fairness, he was proclaimed Augustus by them. Making no apology to Constantius about this, as would have been fitting, he replaced the officials appointed by him; and he deliberately also displayed the letters by which Constantius had summoned the barbarians against Magnentius and brought them into Roman territory. Suddenly changing his religion, though he had earlier seemed to be a Christian, he named himself supreme pontiff, frequented the temples of the pagans, sacrificed, and urged his subjects to worship in this way. Since the Persians were expected to attack the Romans, and Constantius was therefore staying in Syria, Julian, reckoning that he could take Illyricum without a battle, set out on the road against it, giving as a pretext that he was going to Constantius to make his defence, so as not to seem to have accepted the insignia of empire from the soldiers willingly and against Constantius’s wishes. It is said that when he crossed into the borders of that region, the vines, after the vintage, about the setting of the Pleiades, appeared full of unripe grapes; and that the dew from the air, falling on his clothing and that of his followers, stamped the sign of a cross with each drop. He and many of those with him thought that the grapes appearing out of season were a good omen, and that the dew had marked the clothing in this way by chance, wherever it happened to fall. Others said of the two signs that the one meant that the emperor would perish before his time, like the unripe grapes, and that his reign would be short; and that the other foretold that the doctrine of the Christians was heavenly and that all must be marked with the sign of the cross. It seems that those who took the view contrary to the emperor’s did not miss the truth; for time, as it went on, showed that both had been aptly said. When Constantius learned that Julian was marching against him, he abandoned his preparations against the Persians and hurried to Constantinople; and while making the journey he died at Mopsucrenae, between Cilicia and the Cappadocians near the Taurus, about forty-five years old. Of these years he reigned thirteen with his father and twenty-five after him. When he died, Julian already held Thrace. Coming shortly afterwards to Constantinople, he was proclaimed sole emperor. The pagans put about the story that even before he left Gaul, diviners and demons had moved him to this campaign, foretelling the death of Constantius and the change of affairs. It would indeed be plausible to call this foreknowledge, had not the end of his own life overtaken him almost at once, so that he tasted empire as in a dream. For it is foolish, I think, to say that, having foreseen by divination the natural death of Constantius and his own slaughter among the Persians, he leapt willingly into evident death, winning for himself among many no reputation except for rashness and ignorant generalship, and bringing so great a danger on the Roman empire that almost the whole of it, or the greater part, was in danger of falling under the Persians. But let this be said by us, so that it may not seem to have been passed over; and let each think of it as he pleases.

After the death of Constantius the church was in fear of persecutions; and the expectation was more fearful to the Christians than the experience, since the long interval had made them unused to such dangers, and there was the memory of the former punishments and the ruler’s hatred of the doctrine. For it is said that he at once so openly and shamelessly renounced faith in Christ that by certain sacrifices and invocations, which the pagans call “averting,” and by the blood of victims, he washed off our baptism, renouncing the initiation of the church; and from then on he used, privately and publicly, victims and sacrificial animals and everything that is customary among pagans. Once, at any rate, when he was inspecting the victims, a sign of a cross encircled by a crown is said to have appeared in the entrails; and it threw the others who shared in the divination into fear, for they inferred from it the future strength of the religion and the eternity of the doctrine, since the crown by which it was encircled is a sign of victory, and by the circuit of the circle, which begins everywhere and ends in itself, it is nowhere brought to an end. But the chief of the diviners told them to take courage, since the victims showed signs favourable to them, enclosing the symbol of the doctrine and pressing it together so that it could not spread and go freely where it wished, having the circumference of the circle as its limit. I have also learned that he once went down into one of the most celebrated and fearful sanctuaries, for an initiation or an oracle; and when the contrivances devised for these things suddenly assailed him, and phantoms appeared by sorcery, in confusion and fear he forgot where he was — for he came late in life to such learning — and from his former habit, like a Christian caught in desperate dangers, he unawares signed himself with the symbol of Christ. At once the phantoms vanished and the business in hand was thwarted. The mystagogue was at a loss over this; but when he learned the cause of the demons’ flight, he called the deed a pollution, urged him to be brave and to do or think nothing Christian, and led him again to the rite. The emperor’s zeal in these things grieved the Christians not a little and made them very fearful, especially because he had formerly been a Christian. For, born of parents pious in religion, he was initiated as a youth according to the rule of the church, was taught the sacred Scriptures, and was brought up under bishops and churchmen. For his father and that of Gallus was Constantius, the brother on the father’s side of Constantine who had reigned, and of Dalmatius. Dalmatius’s son of the same name, who had been proclaimed Caesar, was killed by the soldiers after Constantine’s death. Being then orphans themselves, they were in danger of perishing with Dalmatius. But Gallus was rescued from the plot because he happened to be ill and was expected to die of himself before long, and Julian by his youth, for he was still in his eighth year. Saved thus unexpectedly, they were ordered to live in Cappadocia at Macellum. This is an imperial estate near Mount Argaeus, not far from the city of Caesarea, having a magnificent palace, baths, gardens and perennial springs. There they were thought worthy of royal care and upbringing, and had lessons and exercises suited to their age, teachers of letters and guides in the holy Scriptures, so that they were even enrolled in the clergy and read the church’s books to the people. And not only so, but by their manners and deeds they displayed piety, holding in great honour priests and others who were good and zealous for doctrine, frequenting the houses of prayer, and honouring the tombs of the martyrs with fitting honours. At that time, at any rate, they say that, wishing to enclose the tomb of the martyr Mamas in a very large building, they divided the work between them. As each strove to outdo the other in zeal and honour, something astonishing and altogether incredible happened — it would be incredible were it not that many who heard it from eyewitnesses have survived even to our day. For Gallus’s part advanced and went forward as intended; but of Julian’s work, some had collapsed, some was thrown up out of the ground, and some would not stay joined to the foundation at once, as though driven back by some resisting and violent force pushing against it from below. All naturally thought the thing a portent, but most judged it by the outcome. Some inferred from that time that the man was not sound in religion but pretended to be pious, feigning to be a Christian because the ruler of the time was one, and not thinking it safe to bring his opinion into the open. He betrayed his ancestral religion, it is said, first led astray by associating with diviners. For after some time, when Constantius’s anger had ceased, Gallus went to Asia and lived at Ephesus, where he had most of his property; and Julian returned to Constantinople and attended the teachers there. Being well endowed by nature and advancing easily in learning, he did not go unnoticed; for he went about in the dress of a private person and associated with many. But since, as tends to happen in a crowd and in the imperial city, being the ruler’s kinsman and appearing able to manage affairs, he was expected to reign, and such talk about him prevailed, he was ordered to live at Nicomedia. There Maximus the philosopher of Ephesus met him and became his teacher in philosophical doctrines and in hatred of the Christian religion; and, as a diviner, he assured him that the rumour about him was true. Julian, as happens to many, distressed by apprehension of hard circumstances and beguiled by favourable hopes, made Maximus his friend. When this was reported to the emperor, in fear he shaved his head to the skin and pretended to follow the monastic life, but secretly held to the other religion. As he came to manhood he was more readily drawn on and was excited about these things. Wondering whether there is an art that foretells the future, and thinking the learning of it necessary, he was led to make trial of things that Christians must not; and from then on he used those who pursued them as friends. In this frame of mind he came from Nicomedia to Asia; and associating with such people there, he became more eager about these things. When his brother Gallus, who had been made Caesar, was accused of plotting revolt and was killed, Constantius, suspecting that Julian too was possessed by love of rule, kept him under guard. When Eusebia, the wife of Constantius, begged for him, Constantius released him, and he went away to Athens, ostensibly for pagan studies and schooling, but, as they say, to consult the diviners there about his own affairs. Constantius summoned him from there and made him Caesar; and having betrothed his own sister Constantia to him in marriage, he sent him to the western Gauls. For the barbarians whom he had formerly hired as allies against Magnentius, having been of no use for that purpose, were ravaging Gaul. Since he was still young, he entrusted what had to be done to the generals who accompanied him. When they were slack, the Caesar himself took thought for the war as far as he could, made the soldiers more eager for battle, both urging them to run risks and fixing a set reward for each who killed a barbarian. Having thereby won the soldiers’ favour, he informed Constantius of the generals’ slackness. When another general was sent, he engaged the barbarians and fared well. When they sent envoys about a treaty, holding out letters of Constantius that summoned them into Roman territory, he deliberately delayed sending back the envoy, attacked the mass of the enemy unexpectedly, and conquered. It is said that Constantius, plotting against him, entrusted this war to him. But this does not seem plausible to me. For when he was free not to make him Caesar at all, why did he make him so, give him his sister as wife, listen to him when he complained about the slack generals, and send a zealous one in their place so that they might bring the war to success, if he was not his friend? But, as I conjecture, Constantius was at first well disposed to him and made him Caesar; but when he was proclaimed Augustus against his wishes, either fearing because of the wrongs he had done him and his brother when they were young, or, as is natural, envious of the equal honour, he plotted against him through the barbarians on the Rhine. But on these things some think one way and some another.

When he was established in sole rule, he opened the pagan temples throughout the East and ordered some to be repaired, those that had been destroyed to be restored, and the altars to be set up again. He found many revenues for them; he renewed the old customs, the ancestral rites of the cities, and the sacrifices. He himself openly and publicly poured libations and sacrificed, and held in great honour those who were zealous for these things. To the initiates, priests, hierophants and attendants of the images he restored their old honours, confirmed the privileges enacted for them by the earlier emperors, and decreed their exemption from public services and from the other burdens from which they had formerly been free. He restored to the temple-wardens the allowances of food that had been taken from them, and ordered them to keep pure from the foods from which one appointed, as the pagans say, to sacred service ought to abstain. He also ordered the cubit of the Nile, the symbols … and the old ancestral objects to be brought to Serapis; for by order of Constantine it had been brought to the church. He wrote often to the councils of the cities: if he learned that they had turned to paganism, he urged them to ask for whatever gifts they wished; but to those that were Christian he openly showed hatred, neither consenting to visit them himself nor receiving their embassies when they sent envoys about their grievances. Thus, when the Persians were then expected to invade, and the people of Nisibis sent envoys about this, he threatened, since they were wholly Christian and neither opened the temples nor went to the shrines, not to help them nor receive their embassy, and not to set foot in their city, as polluted, until he learned that they had turned to paganism. Bringing similar charges against the people of Constantia in Palestine, he assigned their city to the people of Gaza. For this Constantia, as we have learned before, was the port of Gaza and was called Maiuma; Constantine, learning that it was above all devoted to the Christian religion, honoured it with the rank of a city, named it after his son Constantius, and ordered it to have its own civic government, reckoning it unjust that it should be subject to the people of Gaza, who were extremely pagan. When Julian came to the throne, the people of Gaza went to law against the Constantians; and sitting as judge himself, he assigned Constantia, which lies about twenty stadia away, to Gaza; and from then on, stripped of its former name, it is called the seaside quarter of the city of Gaza. They have common civil magistrates and generals and public affairs. Only in church matters do they still today appear as two cities; for each has its own bishop and clergy, festivals of martyrs, commemorations of the priests who have served among them, and boundaries of the surrounding lands by which the altars belonging to each episcopate are marked out. In our own time a bishop of the city of Gaza, when the head of the church of the Maiumites had died, tried to bring both clergies under himself, saying it was not lawful for two bishops to preside over one city. When the Maiumites objected, the synod of the province decided the case and ordained another bishop, judging that those who for their piety had been thought worthy of the rights of a city, and had been treated otherwise through the judgment of a pagan emperor, ought by no means to be deprived of the privileges given them in priesthoods and the order of churches. But this turned out so later.

About the same time the emperor struck from the list of cities Caesarea by Mount Argaeus, great and prosperous, the metropolis of the Cappadocian province, and took from it the name of Caesar, which it had obtained long before under Claudius Caesar, having first been called Mazaca. For he had long hated its inhabitants with an extraordinary hatred, because they were Christians to a man and had long since destroyed their temples of Zeus, guardian of the city, and of ancestral Apollo. And when the temple of Fortune, which alone was left, was overturned by the Christians during his reign, he was violently hostile to the whole city and indignant. He blamed the pagans, who were very few, for not having come to its defence and willingly suffered for Fortune, if suffer they must. He ordered all the estates and money of the churches in Caesarea and within its territory to be searched out under torture and brought into the open; at once three hundred pounds of gold to be paid to the treasury; all clerics to be enrolled in the list of soldiers under the governor of the province, which in the Roman armies is considered very burdensome and most disgraceful; and the multitude of the Christians, with wives and children, to be registered and to pay taxes as in the villages. He threatened under oath that, unless they quickly raised up the temples again, he would not cease from his wrath, harassing the city, and would not even let the Galileans keep their heads — for so he was accustomed to call the Christians in mockery. The threat might perhaps have been carried out had he not died so soon. For at the beginning he seemed more humane than the earlier persecutors of the church, not out of pity for the Christians, but because he had found that the punishments of his predecessors had done nothing to establish paganism, and that by this especially Christianity had grown and become more glorious through the courage of those who chose to die for the doctrine. So, grudging them their glory, he did not think fire or sword or tortures of the body, or drowning, or burying alive — what had been practised before — necessary to change their minds; he thought to persuade the multitudes by speech and exhortation to change over to paganism, and that he would easily achieve his aim if, not deigning to use force, he should unexpectedly appear humane toward them. At any rate it is said that, when he was sacrificing in the temple of Fortune at Constantinople, Maris the bishop of Chalcedon came up to him, publicly insulted him as impious, and called him atheist and apostate; and Julian reproached him only with his blindness, for he had come with a guide, being old and having cataracts in his eyes. And when, mocking as was his habit and blaspheming Christ, he said, “Not even your Galilean God will heal you,” Maris answered, “But I thank my God for my blindness, so that I may not see you fallen from piety.” And the emperor passed on without answering. For he thought that he would strengthen paganism more in this way, showing himself unexpectedly forbearing and gentle to the multitude of the Christians.

With this aim he ended the exile of all who had been banished for religion under Constantius and restored their property to those whose goods had been confiscated by law. He proclaimed to the populace that no one was to wrong the Christians or insult them or drag them unwilling to sacrifice; but those who came to the altars willingly must first propitiate those whom the pagans call averting deities and be cleansed with the purifications customary among them. From the clergy, however, he took away all the exemption, honour and allowances of food granted under Constantine, repealed the laws enacted in their favour, and returned them to the city councils. He ordered that even virgins and widows enrolled in the lists of the clergy because of their poverty should have exacted from them what they had formerly received from the public treasury. For when Constantine was regulating the affairs of the churches, he assigned from the taxes of each city enough for the provision of necessities to the clergy everywhere, and confirmed this by a law, which still holds, having been carefully observed since Julian died. They say this exaction was most cruel and harsh. The receipts given then by the collectors to those from whom they exacted, as proof of the repayment of what they had received under Constantine’s law, also bear witness to it. Nor did the ruler’s hostility to religion stop at this; in the zeal of his hatred of the doctrine he left no means untried for the destruction of the church. He took away its money, offerings and sacred vessels, and forced those who had demolished temples under the rule of Constantine and Constantius to rebuild them or pay their assessed value. As a result, being able to do neither, and being further subject to the search for the sacred funds, priests and clerics and many other Christians were cruelly tortured and thrown into prison. So from everything one may infer that as regards killings and the devising of bodily punishments he was milder than those who had earlier persecuted the church, but in other respects harsher. For he plainly did it harm in every way, except that he recalled the priests who under Constantius’s reign had been condemned to live in exile. It is said that he did not order this out of consideration for them, but so that the church might be fought in civil war through their strife with each other and fall away from its own laws; or else to discredit Constantius. For he thought that he would rouse hatred against him, though dead, among almost all his subjects, by courting the pagans as like-minded and by pitying, as wronged, those who had suffered for Christ under him. Accordingly he also drove the eunuchs from the palace, as having been dear to Constantius, and punished with death Eusebius, the chief of the imperial household; for he had also a private grievance against him, since he suspected that his brother Gallus had been killed by his plotting. Aetius, the founder of the heresy of Eunomius, who had been condemned by Constantius to exile beyond the frontier and was otherwise suspect because of his association with Gallus, he summoned to himself, writing to him very kindly and giving him the use of the public post. For the same reason he then ordered Eleusius, bishop of Cyzicus, under a very heavy penalty, to rebuild within two months at his own expense the church of the Novatians, which he had destroyed under Constantius. And one could find many other things which, from hatred of his predecessor, he either did himself or allowed others to do.

At this time Athanasius too, who had been hiding all the time before this no one knew where, when the death of Constantius was announced, appeared by night in the church of the Alexandrians. This was naturally astonishing, happening so suddenly and against expectation. For when, through the plotting of George’s associates, the commander of the troops in Egypt, at the emperor’s order, tried to seize him and failed, as was told earlier, he escaped and until the present reign was hidden in Alexandria with a holy virgin. We have heard that she so surpassed the women of that time in beauty that she was a marvel to those who saw her, but was avoided by men who professed propriety and chastity, so that suspicion might not bring blame on them. For she was in the bloom of her youth, and exceedingly modest and chaste — a virtue which, even when nature does not help, is wont to adorn the body into comeliness. For truly it is not, as some think, that as bodies are, so is the soul; rather, the character of the body is portrayed in the pursuits of the soul, and a person shows himself to be such as the pursuit he follows at any time. If anyone examines this argument carefully, no one, I think, will gainsay it. Athanasius, the story goes, took refuge with this virgin in accordance with a divine vision that suggested to him that he would be saved there. And looking at the outcome, it seems to me that this was not arranged without God, but so that the associates of Athanasius should have no trouble, if anyone tried to question them about him or forced them to swear an oath; and so that he himself would escape notice, hidden with her, since her beauty did not allow anyone to suspect that the priest was staying there. She received him out of courage and saved him by prudence, becoming so faithful a guardian and zealous servant that she washed his feet and she alone served him in food and all other matters, and in whatever nature is compelled to endure in its pressing needs; and moreover she fetched from others the books he needed. And though this went on for a long time, none of the inhabitants of the city of Alexandria learned of it.

So Athanasius, saved in this way, appeared unexpectedly in the church, and no one knew where he had come from. The people of Alexandria, overjoyed, handed the churches over to him. The followers of Arius, driven out, held their assemblies by themselves in private houses, putting forward Lucius as bishop of their heresy in place of George. George had already been killed. For as soon as the magistrates publicly announced that Constantius was dead and that Julian was emperor, the pagan multitude of the Alexandrians rose in riot. Shouting and reviling, they rushed at him as if to kill him on the spot; but checked in their first onset, they kept him for the time in chains. Not long afterwards they ran to the prison at dawn, killed him, set him on a camel, spent the whole day in outrages on him, and towards evening gave him to the fire. I am not unaware that those of the Arian heresy say that George suffered this at the hands of Athanasius’s partisans. But I think the deed was rather the pagans’, reckoning that they had more and greater grounds for hatred against him, above all his outrages against the images and the temples and his prohibition of the sacrifices and ancestral rites. Their hostility toward him was increased by the power he had at the palace, … which, as a populace tends to feel toward those in power, they thought intolerable. Besides this, the following happened at that time at what they call the Mithraeum. Constantius had given this place, long since deserted, to the church of the Alexandrians; and when George was clearing it to build a house of prayer, an inner shrine came to light, in which were found images, perhaps, and certain implements of those who had once been initiated or performed rites there, which seemed ridiculous and strange to those who saw them. The Christians displayed these publicly and paraded them, mocking the pagans. The pagans, gathering together in a mass, attacked the Christians, some armed with swords or stones, others with whatever came to hand; they killed many, crucified some in mockery of the religion, and left most wounded. Because of this the Christians left unfinished the work they had begun; and the pagans, when Julian’s reign came, killed George. The emperor himself bears witness that this was so. He would not have admitted it unless forced by the truth; for he would have wished, I think, the murderers of George to be Christians of any sort rather than pagans. Nevertheless he did not conceal it; at any rate in his letter to the Alexandrians about this he appears to be angry. He blamed them only in writing, and remitted the punishment, out of reverence, he says, for Serapis their guardian god, for Alexander their founder, and for Julian his own uncle, who had earlier governed Egypt and Alexandria itself — a man who delighted in paganism above all and hated the Christians beyond measure, so that, as far as it lay with him, contrary to the ruler’s intention, the Christians suffered evil even to bloodshed.

It is said, at any rate, that when this Julian was then eager to seize the offerings of the church of the Antiochenes, which were very many and very costly, and to transfer them to the imperial treasury, and to shut the places of prayer, all the clergy fled, and only Theodore the presbyter did not withdraw from the city. Julian arrested him, as the keeper of the treasures who could disclose them, tortured him terribly, and at last ordered him to be put to death by the sword, after he had answered bravely through every torture and won renown in his confessions for the doctrine. When he had plundered the sacred vessels, he threw them on the ground and mocked them; and having blasphemed Christ as much as he pleased, he sat on them and so increased the outrage. At once his private parts and the passages needed about them were corrupted; the flesh there rotted and turned to worms, and the disease overcame the physicians’ art; and yet, out of respect and fear of the emperor, they had tried every kind of remedy. Sacrificing many costly birds, they plastered the decayed parts with their fat and drew the worms to the surface. But it was of no use: for, hidden in the depth, they crept into the living flesh, and did not stop gnawing him until they had killed him. He seemed to have met such a calamity by the wrath of God; for the keeper of the imperial treasuries too, and some others of those entrusted with authority in the palace, who had behaved insolently toward the church, ended their lives strangely and pitiably, as though condemned by the divine anger.

Since my account has come to this point and I have narrated the killing of George and Theodore, I think it a fit time to make mention of the brothers Eusebius, Nestabus and Zeno. The people of Gaza, hating them, seized them where they were hiding at home, first put them in prison and scourged them. Then, gathering in the theatre, they cried out much against them, as men who had violated the shrines and had used the past time for the destruction and insult of paganism. By shouting and urging one another on to murder them, they were filled with fury; and exhorting one another, as a rioting populace is accustomed to do, they ran to the prison, brought them out and killed them most cruelly, dragging them now face down, now on their backs, dashing them against the ground, and striking them as they could, some with stones, some with clubs, others with whatever came to hand. I have learned also that women came out from their looms and stabbed them with their shuttles; and that of the cooks in the market, some snatched cauldrons boiling with hot water from the trivets and poured them over them, and others pierced them with spits. When they had torn them apart and crushed their heads so that the brain ran out on the ground, they dragged them outside the city, where they used to throw out dead beasts; and kindling a fire they burned their bodies, and mixed what remained of the bones, whatever the fire had not consumed, with the bones of camels and asses thrown out there, so that they could not easily be found. But they did not remain hidden long. For a Christian woman, not from Gaza but living there, by divine arrangement gathered them up by night, put them in a pot, and gave them to Zeno, their cousin, to keep. For God had so declared to her in dreams, and had shown her the man and where he was staying, and pointed him out before she saw him, since he was unknown to her and was hiding, the persecution having lately been stirred up. For he too had then nearly been seized by the people of Gaza and killed; but while the crowd was busy with the murder of his cousins, he found his chance and fled to the city of Anthedon on the sea, about twenty stadia from Gaza, which at that time likewise delighted in paganism and was passionately devoted to the worship of images. Denounced there as a Christian, he was cruelly beaten on the back with rods by the people of Anthedon and driven out of the city; and coming to the port of Gaza he lay hidden there. There the woman met him and gave him the relics. He kept them at home for a while; but when he was allotted the oversight of the church there — this happened in the reign of Theodosius — he built a house of prayer outside the city, set up an altar in it, and laid the bones of the martyrs there, near Nestor the confessor. Nestor had been with his cousins while they were alive, and, seized together with them by the populace, had shared their chains and scourging. But as he was being dragged, those who dragged him, seeing his comely body, took pity on him and threw him out before the gates, still breathing but expected to die. Some people took him up and carried him to Zeno, in whose house he died while still being treated for his wounds. The people of Gaza, considering the magnitude of their own daring, were in great fear that the emperor would not let them go unpunished; for a rumour was already going about that he was angry and intended to decimate the populace. But this was false, a popular rumour only, as is natural, carried about from the cowardice of a guilty conscience for what they had done. For he did not blame the people of Gaza even in writing, as he had blamed the Alexandrians in the case of George. Instead he took away his office from the then governor of the province and held him under suspicion, bringing him to trial and reckoning it clemency not to vote for his death. He accused him of having arrested and held in chains some of the people of Gaza who were said to have begun the riot and the murders, so that they might be called to account according to the laws. “For what need was there,” he said, “to arrest them for retaliating on a few Galileans for the many wrongs done to them and to the gods?” Such is the account.

At this time Hilarion the monk too, being sought by the people of Gaza, fled to Sicily. There he gathered wood on the deserted mountains, carried it on his shoulders, and sold it in the city; and in this way he provided his daily food, as much as he needed to live. But when his identity and character were disclosed by a man of rank who was possessed by a demon, he freed him from the possession and went to Dalmatia. Having accomplished there too, by divine power, very great and astonishing deeds — so that by prayer he even stopped the sea, which after a recession was rushing in to flood the dry land — he withdrew again from there. For it was not to his liking to stay among those who praised him; but by changing his place he tried to remain unknown and to dissolve by frequent moves the fame that prevailed about him. Finally, sailing along Cyprus, he put in at Paphos; and urged by the then bishop of the Cypriots, he came to love living there, and practised the philosophic life at a place called Charburis. The reason this man was not martyred was his flight. He fled because there is a sacred command not to wait for persecutors, but, if taken while being persecuted, to be brave and superior to the compulsion of the persecutors. It was not only at Gaza and Alexandria that the deeds described were dared against the Christians. The inhabitants of Heliopolis by Lebanon and of Arethusa in Syria appear to have surpassed them in excess of cruelty. For the former — it is incredible even to tell, had not some who lived at that time reported it — compelled holy virgins, unaccustomed to be seen by a crowd, to stand publicly stripped of their clothing, as a common spectacle and outrage for whoever wished; and after first abusing them as they pleased, they finally shaved their heads, cut them open, and called the swine to eat their entrails, covering the innards on top with the swine’s usual food, so that the swine could not easily tell the difference but, from the craving of their usual food, would tear human flesh as well. As I conjecture, what drove the people of Heliopolis to such cruelty against the holy virgins was the abolition of their former ancestral custom that their virgins should be prostituted to any comer before coming together in marriage with their betrothed. For Constantine, having destroyed the temple of Aphrodite at Heliopolis, then for the first time built a church among them, and by law forbade them to practise their customary sexual immorality. The Arethusians cruelly killed Mark, who had been their bishop, an old man venerable for his grey hairs and his life. They had been angry with him before; for in Constantius’s reign he had led the pagans back to Christianity more zealously than by persuasion, and had destroyed their most venerable and costly temple. When the rule passed to Julian, seeing the populace stirred up against him, and having at the same time been condemned by the emperor’s order either to pay the value of the temple or to rebuild it, reckoning both impossible, and the second unlawful in any case for a Christian, let alone a priest, he fled at first. But learning that many were in danger on his account, and were suffering being dragged to court and the terrors that go with it, he came back from his flight and of his own will gave himself up to the crowd to do with him what they wished. They, when they ought rather to have praised him for an act worthy of a philosopher, thought themselves despised, and the whole populace went at him. They dragged him through the streets, pushing him and tearing his hair, each striking whatever limb he could reach. The deed was pursued with eagerness and rage by men and women and every age, so that they even cut his ears with thin cords; and children going to school made the thing a game, tossing him up and rolling him toward themselves, sending him back and catching him on their writing-styluses and stabbing him without mercy. When his whole body had been wounded but he was still breathing, they smeared him with honey and fish sauce, put him in a basket — a thing woven of rushes — and hoisted him up high. Then, it is said, when wasps and bees were flying at him and devouring his flesh, he said to the Arethusians that he was high and saw them low and going on the ground, and that from this he inferred what would happen afterwards to himself and to them. The story is that the prefect of that time, though a pagan above all, was of a noble character — so that his reputation prevails even now — and, admiring Mark’s endurance, spoke frankly to the emperor and reproached him that they were rightly incurring shame, being defeated by one old man who had bravely withstood so many tortures; and that they were in danger of being ridiculous, while those to whom they did these things became more glorious. So the blessed man withstood the rage of the Arethusians and the many tortures so nobly that he was praised even by the pagans themselves.

At this time Macedonius, Theodulus and Tatian, Phrygians, bravely suffered martyrdom. For when the governor of the province at Merus, a city of Phrygia, opened the temple there and cleansed it, which had been filthy from long neglect, they entered by night and broke the statues. When others were arrested as guilty of this and were about to be punished, they gave themselves up. Though they could have suffered nothing if they had consented to sacrifice, since the governor accepted this alone as their defence for their offence, he could not persuade them, and tortured them in many ways; finally he put them on gridirons and lit a fire beneath. As they burned, they said: “If you desire roasted meat, Amachius” — for that was the governor’s name — “turn us over on the other side to the fire too, so that we may not seem unpleasant to your taste when half-cooked.” And having borne themselves so nobly, they ended their lives in the tortures. They say also that Busiris at Ancyra in Galatia endured a splendid and most courageous confession for religion. He was then of the heresy of those called Encratites. The governor of the province arrested him, and wished to torture him as having behaved insolently against the pagans. Bringing him out publicly to the rack, he ordered him to be hoisted up. But Busiris raised his hands to his head and bared his sides, and said to the governor that the executioners need not labour in vain lifting him up on the rack and letting him down again; for he would readily, even without this, offer his sides to the torturers as long as he wished. The governor, astonished at the promise, was still more amazed at the trial of it. For while his sides were torn with the claws as long as the governor thought fit, he held out, keeping his hands raised and receiving the blows eagerly. Afterwards he was put in chains, but was released not long after, when Julian was reported killed; and he lived until the reign of Theodosius and went over to the catholic church, condemning his former heresy. It is said that at this time Basil, presbyter of the church at Ancyra, and Eupsychius of Caesarea in Cappadocia, of a noble family, who had lately married and was still, as it were, a bridegroom, departed this life by martyrdom. I conjecture that Eupsychius was killed because of the temple of Fortune, at whose destruction, as was told above, all the people of Caesarea together felt the emperor’s wrath. Those who had done the destruction with their own hands were punished, some with death, others condemned to exile from their homeland. Basil, who was zealous for doctrine, opposed the followers of Arius as long as Constantius ruled; and for this, by the vote of Eudoxius’s party, he was forbidden to hold assemblies. When Julian held the empire alone, Basil went about openly and publicly urging the Christians to hold fast to their own doctrines and not to defile themselves with the sacrifices and libations of the pagans, and to count as nothing the honours the emperor bestowed on them, declaring them to be temporary, bought at the price of everlasting destruction. Being zealous in this, and suspected and hated by the pagans, when he saw them sacrificing publicly he stood and groaned aloud and prayed that no Christian would fall into such error. For this he was arrested and handed over to the governor of the province; and having endured many tortures, he completed his martyrdom bravely throughout the whole contest. If these things turned out so against the emperor’s intention, they nevertheless show that no ignoble and no few martyrs arose under his rule. For clarity’s sake I have gathered them all together and narrated them, even though the time of each one’s martyrdom differed.

After Athanasius’s return, Lucifer, bishop of Caralis in Sardinia, and Eusebius, bishop of Vercelli of the Ligurians in Italy, came back from the Upper Thebaid; for there they had been ordered under Constantius to live in perpetual exile. By common agreement, for the correction of church affairs, Eusebius came to Alexandria in order to gather a synod with Athanasius for the confirmation of what had been decided at Nicaea; while Lucifer sent with Eusebius a deacon, who represented him at the synod, … and arriving at Antioch found the church there in turmoil. For it was divided by those of the Arian heresy, led by Euzoius; and the partisans of Meletius, as was said before, were also at odds with those who shared their own belief. Since Meletius had not yet returned from exile, he ordained Paulinus bishop. Meanwhile bishops of many cities, gathered at Alexandria with Athanasius and Eusebius, confirmed the decisions of Nicaea. They confessed the Holy Spirit to be of the same essence with the Father and the Son, and named them a Trinity; and they taught that the man whom God the Word assumed must be held to be perfect not in body only but in soul also, as the ancient philosophers of the church had also held. And since the inquiry about essence and hypostasis was troubling the churches, and there were frequent disputes and debates about these terms, they seem to me to have decided very wisely not to use these names of God at the very outset, except when someone tried to cast out the opinion of Sabellius; lest through poverty of names one should seem to call the same thing by three appellations, rather than that each should be understood in a threefold way in its own right. Such were the decisions of those who then met at Alexandria. At this synod Athanasius, defending himself concerning his flight, went through the account he had written about it.

When the synod had broken up, Eusebius came to Antioch and found the people divided. For those attached to Meletius would not join Paulinus, but held their assemblies apart. Though Eusebius was displeased that the ordination had taken place without the consent of all, as it ought not, out of respect for Lucifer he found no open fault. He communicated with neither party, but promised to correct in a synod what grieved each side. While he was trying to bring the people together in concord, Meletius returned from exile, and finding those who shared his views separated, he held assemblies with them by themselves outside the city; while Paulinus held his within, with his own people. For Euzoius, the head of the Arian heresy, respecting him as a gentle man, venerable for his life and his age, did not drive him out, and even assigned him one church. Eusebius, having failed in his effort, left Antioch. Lucifer, considering himself insulted by him because he had not accepted the ordination of Paulinus, was angry and quarrelled about communion with him; and as if out of contentiousness he tried to discredit what had been decided by the synod at Alexandria. This was the origin of the heresy of those called Luciferians after him. For those who were vexed with him over these things cut themselves off from the church. He himself, though overcome by vexation, since through the deacon whom he had sent with Eusebius he had agreed to abide by what the synod at Alexandria had done, kept to the belief of the catholic church and went to Sardinia. Eusebius went round the East, setting right those who had neglected the faith and teaching what one ought to believe; then, hastening on, he passed through Illyricum and came to Italy. There he found that Hilary, bishop of Poitiers, a city of Aquitania, had already accomplished this; for he had returned from exile before him and had taught the Italians and Gauls which doctrines to accept and which to avoid. For he was eloquent in the Latin tongue and wrote, as has been said, works of worth contending against the doctrines of Arius. Thus this Hilary and Eusebius together upheld the doctrine of the synod at Nicaea in the western part of the empire.

Meanwhile the party of Macedonius, among whom were Eleusius, Eustathius and Sophronius, having by now begun to be openly called Macedonians, as having separated into a body of their own, and having gained freedom through the death of Constantius, called together those who had shared their views at Seleucia and held several synods. They condemned Acacius’s party and the faith confirmed at Ariminum, and ratified the faith set out at Antioch and afterwards confirmed by them at Seleucia. When asked why they differed from Acacius’s party, with whom they had formerly communicated as being of the same belief, they answered through Sophronius the Paphlagonian that the westerners held the homoousios, and Aetius in the East the unlikeness in essence; that the former improperly wove the distinct hypostases of the Father and the Son together into a unity by the name homoousios, while the latter set too far apart the kinship of the Son’s nature with the Father; but that they themselves were orthodox in saying that the Son is like the Father in hypostasis, and had chosen this way as a middle between the two, each of the others having gone to the extreme opposite. In this way they tried to defend themselves against those who blamed them.

The emperor, learning that Athanasius was holding assemblies in the church of the Alexandrians, teaching the people without fear, and persuading many pagans to change over to Christianity, ordered him to leave Alexandria, and threatened him with the heaviest penalties if he remained there. He made it a ground of complaint that, having been condemned to exile by the emperors before him, he had taken back the throne of the episcopate without permission; for he had not allowed those banished by Constantius to return to the churches, but only to their homelands. When, because of this order of the emperor, Athanasius was about to go into exile, seeing the crowd of Christians around him in tears, he said, “Take courage; it is a little cloud and will soon pass.” Having said this he bade them farewell, entrusted the church to the most zealous of his friends, and left the city of the Alexandrians. At this time the people of Cyzicus sent envoys to the emperor about their own affairs and about restoring the pagan temples; he praised them for their care for the shrines and granted them everything they asked. He also excluded Eleusius, their bishop, from the city, as having damaged the temples and insulted the sacred precincts, having built homes for widows, established convents of holy virgins, and persuaded the pagans to neglect their ancestral rites. He also forbade the foreign Christians who were with him to set foot in Cyzicus, alleging, as was likely, that they would raise a riot for the sake of religion, with the Christians of the city joining them and thinking like them about the divine, as well as the public wool-workers and the workers of the mint. These were numerous and divided into two populous guilds, and by order of the former emperors lived in Cyzicus with their wives and households, paying each year a fixed contribution to the treasury, the one of military cloaks, the other of newly minted coins. For since he had resolved to establish paganism by every means, he thought it foolish to force or punish populaces unwilling to sacrifice; for in each city the magistrates could hardly even have registered the number of so many. Nor did he prevent them from assembling and praying as they chose. For he knew that what needs a free choice for its establishment can hardly ever be achieved by compulsion. But he was eager to drive the clergy and the heads of the churches out of the cities, really intending by their absence to break up the people’s assemblies, so that they would have neither anyone to lead their assemblies nor teachers, nor share in the mysteries, and in long time would fall into forgetfulness of their own religion. On the pretext that the clergy led the multitudes into dissension, he ordered Eleusius and those with him to leave Cyzicus, although there had been no riot and none was expected. He urged the people of Bostra by public proclamation to drive out of their city Titus, then bishop of the church there. For when he threatened to hold him and the clergy responsible if the people rioted, Titus sent a petition to the emperor and declared that the Christian multitude was equal to the pagan, but that it was quiet and, led by his exhortations, thought of nothing seditious. Seizing on these words to make Titus hated by the people, the emperor wrote to the people of Bostra and accused him of having become an accuser of the populace, as though they refrained from riot not of their own will but because of his exhortations; and he stirred up the people to drive him out of the city as an enemy. It is likely that many such things happened elsewhere also, some by the emperor’s order, others from the anger and rashness of the populaces. For these too one will lay the blame for what happened on the ruler; for he did not bring those who so broke the law under the laws, but in his hatred of the religion, while seeming to blame them in words, he encouraged in deeds those who did such things. Hence, even though he himself did not persecute, my forebears and my grandfather fled from city to city and village to village. For though his father was a pagan, he himself with his whole household, and the family of Alaphion, were the first to become Christians in Bethelia, a village of Gaza, which was populous and had temples venerable to its inhabitants for their antiquity and workmanship, especially the Pantheon, which stood on a man-made hill as on an acropolis and overlooked the whole village from every side. I conjecture that the place took its name from this and that, translated from the Syrian language into Greek, it is called “dwelling of the gods,” because of the temple of the Pantheon. It is said that the monk Hilarion was the cause of these households’ becoming Christian. For when this Alaphion was possessed by a demon, for a long time some pagans and many Jews used incantations and certain magic arts and accomplished nothing; but Hilarion, by simply calling on the name of Christ, drove out the demon, and they changed over to the Christian religion. My grandfather excelled in the interpretation of the sacred Scriptures, being gifted and of an inquiring mind, and moderately trained in learning, so that he was not without a share of arithmetic too. Hence he was very much loved by the Christians of Ascalon and Gaza and the surrounding country, as one needful to religion and able easily to resolve the difficulties of the sacred Scriptures. As for those of the other family, one could hardly describe their virtue. For they were the first to found churches and monasteries there, and they adorned them with their dignity and their kindness to strangers and the needy. Of this family good men survived even to our day, whom, when they were already old, I knew when I was young. But I must mention them later.

The emperor, who had long been eager for paganism to prevail throughout the whole empire, was vexed to see it outdone by Christianity. Temples had been opened, and sacrifices and the ancestral festivals of the pagans in the cities seemed to be going forward as he wished; but he was distressed, reckoning that if these were stripped of his zeal, they would quickly change back. He was especially annoyed to hear that the wives, children and servants of many priests were Christians. Supposing that Christianity owed its strength to the life and conduct of those who practise it, he planned to adorn the pagan temples everywhere with the arrangements and order of the Christian religion: to dignify the pagan doctrine with platforms and seats of honour, with teachers and readers of pagan doctrines and exhortations, with prayers set at fixed hours and days, with houses for men and women who had resolved to live the philosophic life, with lodgings for strangers and the poor and other kindness to the needy; and, after the tradition of the Christians, to appoint correction proportioned to repentance for voluntary and involuntary sins. Not least, he is said to have imitated the tokens of the bishops’ letters, by which it is customary for strangers travelling anywhere to be received by those to whom they come and thought worthy of care, as friends and dearest acquaintances, on the testimony of the token. With these designs he was eager to accustom the pagans to the practices of the Christians. But since this perhaps seems incredible to many, I shall give the proof of what has been said from no other source than the emperor’s own words. He writes thus to Arsacius, high priest of Galatia: “Paganism is not yet succeeding as it should, because of us who practise it. For the things of the gods are splendid and great, beyond every prayer and every hope. May Adrasteia be gracious to my words; for no one, a little while ago, dared even pray for so great and so sudden a change. Why then do we think this enough, and do not look at what has most increased atheism: kindness to strangers, care for the burial of the dead, and a feigned dignity of life? I think that each of these ought to be practised by us in truth. And it is not enough that you alone should be such, but all the priests in Galatia without exception. Either shame them or persuade them to be zealous, or remove them from the priestly office, if they do not come to the gods with their wives and children and servants, but tolerate servants or sons or wives who are Galileans, who are impious toward the gods and prefer atheism to piety. Next, exhort a priest neither to frequent the theatre nor to drink in a tavern, nor to preside over any craft or trade that is base and disgraceful; honour those who obey, and drive out those who disobey. Set up many guest-houses in each city, so that strangers may enjoy our kindness, not only our own people but others too, whoever is in need of money. Where you will get the means, I have meanwhile provided: for I have ordered thirty thousand modii of grain to be given each year throughout Galatia, and sixty thousand sextarii of wine. One fifth of this, I say, should be spent on the poor who serve the priests, and the rest should be distributed by you to strangers and beggars. For it is shameful that no Jew begs, and the impious Galileans support ours as well as their own, while ours are seen to lack help from us. Teach the pagans, too, to contribute to such services, and the pagan villages to offer the first fruits to the gods; and accustom the pagans to such good works, teaching them that this was our work of old. Homer, at any rate, made Eumaeus say: ‘Stranger, it is not right for me, even if one worse than you should come, to dishonour a stranger; for from Zeus are all strangers and beggars; and a gift is small but dear.’ Let us not, by allowing others to rival us in our own good things, disgrace them by our slackness, or rather betray our reverence for the gods. If I learn that you are doing these things, I shall be full of joy. See the governors seldom at their homes, but write to them as much as possible. When they enter the city, let no priest go to meet them; but when they come to the shrines of the gods, meet them within the porch. Let no soldier precede them inside, but let whoever wishes follow; for as soon as one has crossed the threshold of the precinct he has become a private person. For you yourself, as you know, rule within, since the divine law requires this. Those who obey are truly god-fearing; but those who cling to their pride are seekers of reputation and vainglorious. I am ready to help Pessinus, if they make the Mother of the gods gracious to themselves. But if they neglect her, they will not only not be blameless, but — harsh as it is to say — may even taste our displeasure. ‘For it is not right for me to tend or pity men who are hated by the immortal gods.’ Persuade them, then, if they lay claim to my care, to become suppliants of the Mother of the gods in a body.”

The emperor, acting and writing in this way, thought that he would easily bring his subjects to abandon the doctrine willingly. And though he was zealous in every way for the destruction of the Christian religion, he could neither persuade them entirely, and was ashamed to use open force, lest he should seem a tyrant. Yet he did not slacken his eagerness, but devised every means to draw his subjects to paganism, and above all the army, partly by himself and partly through the officers. Accustoming them artfully in every way to pagan practice, he resolved to change back to its former shape the chief of the Roman standards, which Constantine, by divine command, as was said earlier, had reshaped into the symbol of the cross. In the public images of himself he took care to have painted beside him Zeus appearing as from heaven and giving him the crown and purple, the insignia of empire, and Ares and Hermes looking at him and, as it were, bearing witness with their eyes that he was skilled in speech and in war. He ordered these and whatever else pertains to pagan worship to be mixed into his images, so that under pretext of the honour customary to the emperor they might unawares do reverence to what was painted with him; and abusing the ancient customs, he tried by every device to steal the will of his subjects. For he reckoned that if he persuaded them, he could more readily attempt the rest, if he wished; and if he found them disobedient, he could punish them without pardon as innovators in the customs of the Romans and offenders against the state and the emperor. A few, who also suffered punishment, understood the design and, as was customary, refused to do reverence; but the multitude, as usual, from ignorance or simplicity, thought they were simply obeying an old custom and approached the images quite simply. But the emperor gained nothing more even when this device was tried. Yet he did not give up, but went on devising everything by which he might bring his subjects to worship as he did. What he contrived at that time is not unlike what has been told, but was attempted more openly and more forcibly than the former, and gave occasion for courage to not a few of those serving in the palace. For when the time came for the emperor to give a donative to the soldiers — this happens generally on the Romans’ sacred days and the birthdays of emperors and of imperial cities — reckoning that the military is by nature simple and naive and easily overcome by money through habitual greed, … those standing beside the emperor ordered each of those who came up for it to burn incense; for frankincense and fire lay nearby, as though this were an old Roman custom. Then some boldly showed their courage, and would neither burn incense nor accept the gift from the emperor; others, under the cover of law and antiquity, did not even realize that they were sinning; and others, enticed by the visible gain, or overcome beforehand by fear and confusion at the scene suddenly displayed, even if they understood that they were acting as pagans, did not escape doing it. Of those who fell into this sin through ignorance, it is said that some, as they were feasting together in friendship, as tends to happen at drinking parties, and pledging one another, named Christ over their cups. One of the guests interrupted and said: “You do a surprising thing, calling on Christ, whom you denied a little while ago, when you received the gift from the emperor and put the incense on the fire.” As soon as they heard this and understood what they had done, they leapt up at once and ran out in public, shouting and weeping and calling God himself and all men to witness that they were Christians and remained so, and that in ignorance of what was happening — if one may speak so at all — only their hand had acted as a pagan’s, without their mind consenting. When they came to the emperor, they threw down the gold he had given them and very bravely asked him to take back his gift and to kill them; for they would not repent if, for what their right hand had done without forethought, they paid the penalty in their whole body for Christ. The emperor, though he was angry, took care not to kill them, lest they be thought worthy of the honours of martyrdom; but he deprived them of their military rank and expelled them from the palace.

He held this attitude toward all Christians too, wherever he found an occasion. For even when he had no charge against them, he begrudged those who refused to sacrifice their equal civic rights and their share in assemblies and markets; and he did not allow them to be judges or magistrates or to share in offices of rank. Nor did he permit their children to be taught the poets and writers of the Greeks, or to attend the teachers of these. For he was greatly vexed by Apolinarius the Syrian, equipped for every kind of knowledge and every style of speech, and by Basil and Gregory the Cappadocians, who surpassed the orators of the time, and by very many other learned men besides, some of whom were zealous for the decisions of Nicaea, while others had sprung from the heresy of Arius. Thinking, then, that persuasiveness was formed from this source alone, he did not allow Christians to be trained in the learning of the Greeks. Then this Apolinarius, using his wide learning and his talent to meet the occasion, in place of the poetry of Homer composed in heroic verse the Hebrew antiquities up to the reign of Saul, and divided the whole work into twenty-four parts, giving each volume a name the same as the letters of the Greek alphabet, according to their number and order. He also worked at comedies modelled on the plays of Menander, and imitated the tragedy of Euripides and the lyre of Pindar; and, in short, taking his subjects from the divine Scriptures, he produced in a short time works equal in number and in force to those of the so-called general studies, in character, diction, style and arrangement like those that had won renown in these fields among the Greeks. So that, if people did not honour antiquity and think the familiar dear, they would, I think, praise the work of Apolinarius equally with the ancients and study it, admiring his genius the more, inasmuch as each of the ancients worked at one thing only, while he practised them all and in a pressing need reproduced the excellence of each. Not ignoble either is the treatise he wrote against the emperor himself, or against the Greek philosophers, which he entitled On Truth, in which, even without the testimony of the sacred words, he showed that they had been led astray from right thinking about God. For the emperor, mocking such works, wrote to the distinguished bishops of the time: “I read, I understood, I condemned”; and they wrote back in answer: “You read, but you did not understand; for if you had understood, you would not have condemned.” Some attribute this letter to Basil, the head of the church of the Cappadocians, and not unreasonably. But whether it is his or another’s, the writer deserves to be admired for his courage and learning.

The emperor, eager to march against the Persians, came to Antioch in Syria. When the people cried out that provisions were plentiful but were sold at a high price, he, out of desire for popularity, I think, courting the people, ordered the goods for sale in the market to be sold at a lower price than was right. When the dealers fled, the provisions ran short. The Antiochenes, taking this badly, insulted the emperor and mocked his beard for being long, and his coinage because it bore the image of a bull; for they jested that under his rule the world had been overturned like the bulls lying on their backs. At first he was angry and threatened to do the Antiochenes harm, and prepared to move to Tarsus. But changing wonderfully from his anger, he avenged the insult with words only, composing against the Antiochenes a most elegant and witty oration, which he entitled Misopogon. He treated the Christians here as elsewhere, and was eager to strengthen paganism. What happened at that time concerning the tomb of the martyr Babylas and the temple of Apollo at Daphne is worth relating. I begin here. Daphne, the famous suburb of Antioch, is thick with a grove of many cypresses and adorned with other trees mingled with the cypresses. Beneath the trees the ground bears, in turn through the seasons, fragrant flowers of every kind. A covering rather than a shade encloses the place everywhere, since the density of the branches and leaves does not let the sunlight fall on the ground. It is very pleasant and lovely through the abundance and beauty of its waters, the mildness of its seasons, and the breath of gentle winds. Here the sons of the Greeks tell the myth that Daphne, daughter of the river Ladon, fleeing from Arcadia from Apollo her lover, changed herself into the plant of the same name; and that he, not freed from his passion even so, crowned himself with the branches of his beloved, embraced her though she was a tree, and by his constant presence honoured the place above any other as especially dear to him. The suburb of Daphne being such, it was thought shameful for decent people to set foot in it. For the situation and nature of the place were suited to luxury, and the theme of the myth, being erotic, given a slight occasion, doubled the passion of corrupt young men. Holding out the myths as an excuse, they were violently inflamed and went shamelessly to licentious deeds, unable to be chaste themselves and unable to bear seeing the chaste in the same place. For one who spent time at Daphne without a mistress was thought a fool and graceless, and was shunned like an abomination to be averted. The place was also in other ways venerated and highly esteemed by the pagans. For there was there a very beautiful statue of Daphnaean Apollo and a temple built magnificently and lavishly, which Seleucus, the father of Antiochus, after whom the city of Antioch is named, is said to have built. Those who honour these things believed that prophetic water also flowed there from the Castalian spring, which had the same power and name as the one at Delphi. Indeed they boast that Hadrian, while still a private man, had his reign foretold here. For they say that he dipped a laurel leaf in the spring and drew from it knowledge of the future, made known in writing on the leaf; and that when he came to rule he had the spring blocked up, so that others might not learn the future in advance. But let those who care for such things tell their myths precisely. When Gallus, Julian’s brother, having been made Caesar by Constantius, was living at Antioch, being a Christian and honouring above all those who had been martyred for the doctrine, he resolved to cleanse this place of pagan superstition and of the outrage of licentious men. Supposing that he would easily succeed if he set up a house of prayer there in opposition, he moved to Daphne the coffin of the martyr Babylas, who had governed the church of the Antiochenes very gloriously and had been martyred. From that time, it is said, the demon no longer gave oracles as usual. At first it was thought to suffer this because it lacked the sacrifices and worship it had formerly enjoyed; but what followed showed that the martyr, having become its neighbour, did not allow it to do so. For when Julian alone ruled the Roman world, it shared in libations and the savour of sacrifice and an abundance of victims, and was no less silent; and at last, giving an oracle, it itself exposed the cause of its former silence. For when the emperor had resolved to consult the oracle there about matters he thought good, he came to the temple and honoured the demon lavishly with offerings and sacrifices, and begged it not to neglect what he was eager to learn. It did not declare openly that it could not give oracles because of the martyr Babylas, lying in the tomb nearby; but it said that the place was full of corpses and that for this reason the oracles were prevented from coming forth. Though many other dead lay at Daphne, the emperor, inferring that the martyr alone was hindering the oracles, ordered the tomb to be moved. The Christians, gathering together, drew the coffin to the city, about forty stadia, where the martyr now lies, having given his name to the place. They say that the men and women, young men and virgins, old men and children who drew the coffin, encouraging one another, kept singing psalms all along the road, ostensibly lightening their toil with the song, but in truth moved by zeal and eagerness because the ruler did not hold the same belief about the divine as they did. Those who knew the psalms well led the others, and the multitude responded in harmony, singing this verse as a refrain: “Put to shame are all who worship carved images, who boast in their idols.”

Moved to anger by this, as though insulted, the emperor resolved to punish the Christians. Sallustius, who held the prefect’s authority, though a pagan, did not approve the plan; but being unable to oppose it, he carried out the emperor’s order. The next day he arrested many of the Christians and put them in chains; and bringing out first one young man, whose name was Theodore, he fastened him to the rack. He, though torn for a long time with the claws, was not overcome by the tortures, nor did he plead with the prefect; but showing himself as though free of pain, like a spectator of what was done to him, he received the blows with endurance, and singing again the same psalm as the day before, he showed by his deeds that he cared nothing for the matter for which he was being judged. The prefect, astounded at the young man’s firmness, went to the emperor, told him what had happened, and said that unless he quickly stopped the attempt, they themselves would be made ridiculous and the Christians more glorious. This seemed the better course, and those arrested were released from their chains. It is said that when some afterwards asked Theodore whether he had felt those tortures, he said that he had not been altogether free of pain, but that a young man stood by him and relieved his pains, wiping his sweat with a very fine cloth and pouring on him very cold water, by which he eased the inflammation and refreshed him from his sufferings. It seems to me that it is not for a man alone, however noble, unless helped also by divine aid, to disregard the body so much. So the martyr Babylas, for the reason given, was settled at Daphne and moved again. Not long after this, a fire fell unexpectedly on the temple of Daphnaean Apollo and burned up the whole roof and the statue itself, leaving only the bare walls and enclosures and the columns that held up the porch and the rear chamber. The Christians thought that, at the martyr’s request, fire sent by God had fallen on the demon; the pagans put about the story that the deed was the Christians’. As this suspicion prevailed, the priest of Apollo was brought to court to reveal who had dared to set the fire; and though he was put in chains, endured many blows and was cruelly tortured, he denounced no one. On this ground especially the Christians maintained that it was not by human plotting but by divine wrath that fire from heaven struck the temple. So it happened. And, as I think, because of what had happened at Daphne on account of the martyr Babylas, when the emperor learned that there were houses of prayer in honour of martyrs near the temple of Didymaean Apollo, which is before Miletus, he wrote to the governor of Caria to burn them with fire if they had a roof and a holy table, and, if the buildings were half finished, to dig them up from the foundations.

Among the events of Julian’s time I must tell this too, a sign of Christ’s power and a proof of God’s wrath against the ruler. When he learned that at Caesarea Philippi — a city of Phoenicia, which they call Paneas — there was a famous statue of Christ, which the woman with the flow of blood had set up when she was freed from her affliction, he took it down and set up a statue of himself. But a violent fire fell from heaven, split the statue about the breast, threw down the head together with the neck, and fixed it face down in the ground where the breast was broken off; and from then until now it has stood so, full of the soot of the thunderbolt. The statue of Christ the pagans then dragged about and broke; but afterwards the Christians gathered up the pieces and placed them in the church, where it is kept even now. From the base on which this statue stood, as Eusebius records, there grew a certain herb that was a remedy for all kinds of ailments and diseases, whose kind none of the physicians or experts of our time knew. To me it seems no marvel that, since God has come to dwell among men, his benefits too should be strange. For very many other wonders too, in cities and villages, are, as one would expect, known precisely only to the local inhabitants, learned from the tradition handed down from the beginning; and that this is true I will at once show from this. There is a city in Palestine now called Nicopolis. While it was still a village the divine book of the Gospels knows it and calls it Emmaus. The Romans, after the capture of Jerusalem and the victory over the Jews, named it Nicopolis from what had happened. Before this city, at the crossroads where Christ, after his resurrection from the dead, walking with Cleopas and his companion, took leave of them as though hastening to another village, there is a healing spring in which human beings and other animals suffering from various diseases wash away their afflictions. For it is said that Christ, coming with his disciples from a journey somewhere to the spring, washed his feet there, and from then on the water became a remedy for afflictions. They say also that the tree called Persis at Hermopolis in the Thebaid drove away the diseases of many, when a twig or a leaf or a little of the bark was applied to the sick. For it is told among the Egyptians that when Joseph fled because of Herod, taking Christ and Mary the holy Theotokos, he came to Hermopolis; and as he entered by the gate, this tree, very large as it was, could not bear the coming of Christ, but bent to the ground and worshipped. I have told these things about this plant as I heard them from many. I think either that this was a sign of God’s presence in the city, or, as is likely, that the tree, which was worshipped by the inhabitants according to pagan custom for its size and beauty, was shaken because the demon worshipped through it shuddered at the appearance of the destroyer of such things; for, according to the prophecy, all the idols of the Egyptians were shaken of themselves when Christ then came among them. When the demon had been driven out, the plant remained as a witness of what had happened, healing those who believe. Of these things the Egyptians and the Palestinians are witnesses, each of what is among them.

The emperor, though he hated the Christians and was harsh toward them, was nevertheless well disposed and gentle toward the Jews. He wrote to their patriarchs and leaders and to the people itself, asking them to pray for him and his reign. He did this not, as I conjecture, because he approved of their religion — for he knew that it was, so to speak, the mother of the doctrine of the Christians, since it had the same prophets and patriarchs — but because the Jews had an implacable hatred toward the Christians, and by courting them he sought to grieve those he hated. Perhaps too he thought that they would be more readily led to paganism and sacrifices, since they understand the sacred books according to the letter only, and not, like the Christians and the wiser among themselves, by contemplation. With this in mind he set to work. Summoning the leaders of the nation, he urged them to keep the laws of Moses, reminding them of their ancestral customs. When they said that, since the temple in Jerusalem had been thrown down, it was neither lawful nor ancestral for those who had been driven from the mother city to do this elsewhere, he gave them public funds and ordered them to rebuild the temple and to worship as their forefathers had, sacrificing in the old way. They, not considering that according to the sacred prophecies this could not come about, set to the work zealously. Gathering skilled builders, they prepared the materials and cleared the site. They laboured at this with such eagerness that their women carried out the earth in their laps and readily contributed their necklaces and all their other female ornaments to the cost of the work. Everything else came second to the work, for the emperor and for all the other Jews. For some, though not well disposed toward the Jews, shared their zeal, supposing that they could succeed and prove Christ’s predictions false; while the Jews, for their part, thought that the time had come to raise up the temple. When they had taken down the remains of the former building, dug up and cleared the ground, it is said that on the next day, when they were about to lay the first foundation, a great earthquake occurred; by the shaking of the earth stones were thrown up from the foundations, and those of the Jews perished who were supervising the work and had come to watch it. For the houses near the temple and the public porticoes in which they were lodging suddenly collapsed; and most were caught, some dying at once, others found half dead and maimed in hands or legs, while others were injured in other parts of the body. When God ceased the shaking, those who were left tried the work again, since it was unavoidable because of the emperor’s order and was also to their own liking. For human nature somehow tends, in what pleases it, to lean toward what is harmful, and to think that only what it wishes to accomplish will be to its advantage; and simply overcome by the deception that arises from this, it can neither see its true interest by any foresight nor, chastened by experience of dangers, come to its senses to do what it should. Such, I think, was what happened then to the Jews. For though the first hindrance was enough and had clearly shown that the Divine was angry at what was being done, they again pursued what could not be accomplished. The account is that as soon as they set their hand to the work a second time, fire suddenly leapt up from the foundations of the temple and consumed many. And this is told and believed without hesitation by all, and is doubted by no one; except that some say that the flame met them as they were forcing their way into the temple and did what has been said, and others that it happened as soon as they began to carry out the earth. But whichever of these one accepts, each is an equal marvel. On this followed another thing, clearer and more astonishing than the former. Of their own accord the clothes of all were marked with the sign of the cross, and in a way they had their garments spangled as with stars, as if worked in by the art of weaving. From this some at once judged that Christ is God and that the renewal of the temple was not pleasing to him; and others not long after joined the church, were initiated, and with hymns and supplications sought to propitiate Christ for what they had dared. To anyone to whom these things do not seem credible, let those still alive who heard them from eyewitnesses confirm them; and let the Jews and pagans confirm them, who left the work half finished — or rather, were not even able to begin it.

What I learned of the events that befell the churches in the reign of Julian has been set out above. At the beginning of spring, having resolved to march against the Persians, Julian quickly crossed the river Euphrates. Passing by Edessa, perhaps out of hatred of its inhabitants, since this city had from the beginning been Christian to a man, he came to Carrhae, where he found a temple of Zeus, and sacrificed and prayed. After this he sent about twenty thousand armed men from the troops that followed him to the river Tigris to guard those parts and to be ready for him when needed; and he wrote to … , who was an ally of the Romans, to join him in the enemy’s country. In the letter he behaved with arrogance beyond measure, extolling himself as fit to rule and as a friend of those he considered gods, and reviling Constantius, whom he had succeeded, as unmanly and impious; and he threatened him very insolently. Since he had learned that he was a Christian, he increased the insult, and, eager to utter unlawful blasphemies against Christ — for he was accustomed to dare this on every occasion — he boasted, hinting that the one whom he held to be God would not help him if he neglected the orders given him. When he had arranged these things as he thought best, he took the Roman army through Assyria … and took by war …; and he went forward heedlessly, taking no thought for what lay behind, or that he would have to return the same way. But what he took he ravaged terribly; storehouses and other things he razed or burned. Marching along the Euphrates, he came not far from Ctesiphon. This is a great city, which now holds the palace of the Persians instead of Babylon; and the Tigris flows not far from it. Since he could not approach Ctesiphon with his ships because of the land between, and it seemed necessary either to pass by the city or to abandon the vessels, he questioned some of the prisoners and found a navigable canal that had been silted up over time; and cutting through the barrier, he drew the Euphrates into the Tigris. In this way, with the ships sailing alongside the army, he advanced on the city. When the Persians appeared on the banks of the Tigris with a great force of cavalry, infantry and elephants, he saw that his army was besieged in enemy country between two very great rivers and was in danger of perishing from hunger, whether they stayed there or returned by the same road, since the cities and villages through which they had come had been destroyed and had no provisions. So, offering prizes for horse races, he seated the soldiers to watch a horse race. Meanwhile he ordered the masters of the ships to throw away their cargoes and the army’s grain, so that the soldiers, as I have learned, seeing themselves in danger through want of provisions, might turn to boldness and fight the enemy more eagerly. After supper the emperor called together the generals and the officers, and put the soldiers on board the ships. They sailed across the Tigris by night, were already at the further banks, and began to land. Of the Persians, some perceived it, resisted, and urged one another on; and the Romans fell upon others who were still asleep. When day came they joined battle; and having lost many and killed many, they crossed the river, and for the time encamped before Ctesiphon. The emperor having decided to go no further but to return to the Roman empire, they burned the ships, since many men were kept out of the fighting to guard them, and made their way back with the river Tigris on their left. Under the guidance of the prisoners, they at first enjoyed a fertile country with every provision. But after this an old man who had chosen to die for the freedom of all the Persians, letting himself be caught on purpose as if taken against his will, was brought to the commander. Questioned about the road, and seeming to tell the truth, he persuaded them to follow him, saying he would bring the army by the quickest way to the Roman frontier; only for three or four days would the march be hard, and they would need to carry provisions for that time, as the land was desert. The emperor, led on by the words of the clever old man, decided that they must go that way. When they had gone further and after three days had entered … places, the old prisoner, under torture, confessed that he had deserted to his death for the sake of his own people, and was ready to endure everything gladly. When the army was distressed and already worn out by the length of the road and the want of provisions, a Persian force attacked. During a fierce battle a violent wind suddenly arose, covered the sky and the sun with clouds, and mixed the dust with the air. In the darkness and the thick gloom a horseman rode by, bore his spear against the emperor, struck him a mortal blow, threw him from his horse, and went away unrecognized. Some say he was a Persian, others a Saracen. There are those who maintain that he was a Roman soldier, who dealt him the blow in indignation because by his folly and rashness he had brought the army into such dangers. Libanius the Syrian sophist, who had been his close companion and friend, writes this about the one who killed him: “Who then was the slayer, someone longs to hear. I do not know the name; but that the slayer was not an enemy there is clear evidence: that no enemy was honoured for the blow. And yet the Persian king summoned by heralds the one who had killed him to receive a reward, and it would have been possible for him who came forward to obtain great things; but not even from love of rewards did anyone boast of it. And great thanks are due to the enemy that they did not claim the glory of what they had not done, but left us to seek the slayer among ourselves. For those to whom it was not profitable that he should live — and these were those who live not according to the laws — had long been plotting, and then, when they were able, they did it; their other wickedness, which had no licence under his reign, compelling them, and above all the honouring of the gods, the opposite of which they were seeking.”

Libanius, writing somewhat in this way, hints that Julian’s slayer was a Christian; and perhaps it is true. For it is not unlikely that one of those then serving in the army took to heart that the Greeks and all mankind until now praise the tyrant-slayers of old, as men who chose to die for the freedom of all and eagerly came to the defence of fellow citizens or kinsmen or friends. One could hardly blame him, either, if he showed himself brave for God and the religion he approved. As for who it was that carried out this slaying, I know nothing exactly beyond what has been said. But, as those who tell it assert in agreement, a trustworthy account has come to us that he was killed by the wrath of God. And the proof of this is a divine vision which I have learned one of his associates saw. For it is said that when this man was hastening to him in Persia, he stopped at a place on the highway and, for want of lodging, slept in the church there; and, awake or in a dream, he saw many of the apostles and prophets gathered together, lamenting the ruler’s outrage against the churches and deliberating what ought to be done. After they had debated this a long time and were, as it were, at a loss, two rose from their midst, told the others to take courage, and left the assembly in haste, as if setting out to overthrow Julian’s rule. The man who had beheld these marvels thought no more of his journey; but, anxious about how the vision would turn out, he slept there again, saw the same assembly, and saw those who on the previous night had gone out against Julian suddenly come in as if from a journey and announce to the others that he had been killed. On that same day Didymus too, the church’s philosopher who lived at Alexandria, being deeply grieved because the emperor had erred concerning religion, both for his sake as one gone astray and because of his contempt for the churches, was fasting and entreating God about this. Through his anxiety, not even taking food when night came on, he fell asleep as he sat on his chair. And as if in an ecstasy he seemed to see white horses running through the air and their riders proclaiming: “Tell Didymus: today, about this hour, Julian has been killed; and let him make this known to Athanasius the bishop, and let him rise and eat.” What the associate of Julian and the philosopher saw happened in this way, as I have learned; and neither of them missed the truth in what he saw, as was reported later. If these things do not suffice anyone as proof that he was killed by God because he was ravaging the churches, let him consider the prophecy that a churchman made beforehand. When Julian was about to march against the Persians, and threatened to harm the churches after the war, and mocked that the carpenter’s son would be able to help them not at all, the churchman declared, saying: “This carpenter’s son is making him a wooden coffin for his death.” Moreover, Julian himself after the blow somehow understood whence he had been struck and was not wholly ignorant of the cause of his calamity. For it is said that when he was wounded, he took blood from the wound and hurled it into the air, as though looking at Christ appearing and blaming him for his own slaying. Others say that, angry at the sun because it had helped the Persians, or had not saved him though it was the overseer of his birth according to some such astrological account, he showed the blood with his hand and flung it into the air. Whether, being truly about to die, as tends to happen when the soul is already separating from the body and is able to see things more divine than is possible to man, he saw Christ, I cannot say; for this account is not held by many. Yet I dare not reject it as false either; since it is not unlikely that even more marvellous things than these have happened, to show that the religion named after Christ was not established by human effort. Certainly through all the time of this reign God was seen to be angry, and he afflicted the Roman empire with calamities of every kind in many provinces. For the earth was continually shaken by very severe earthquakes and buildings fell, so that it was safe neither to stay at home nor in the open air. I conjecture from what I have learned that it was either while he was reigning, or when he was in the second rank of the empire, that the calamity befell the Alexandrians in Egypt, when the sea, having receded, came back in a rush and overstepped its own bounds and flooded the dry land far inland, so that when the water withdrew, sea-going boats were found on the roofs. Indeed, to this day the Alexandrians keep as a yearly festival the day on which this happened, which they call the birthday of the earthquake; lighting many lamps throughout the city and offering prayers of thanksgiving to God, they celebrate it very splendidly and devoutly. Moreover, droughts also set in, and in this reign ruined all the crops and the air. Hence through scarcity of provisions famine drove people to the food of beasts; and pestilence, following on it, brought its own diseases and destroyed bodies. Such were the events of Julian’s time.

After him, by common agreement of the army, Jovian received the empire. When the troops in enemy country elected him emperor, he declared that he was a Christian and refused the rule and would not accept the insignia of empire, until the army, learning the reason for his refusal, cried out that they too were Christians. As affairs were in danger and confusion from Julian’s generalship, and the army was suffering from want of provisions, he saw that it was necessary to come to terms, handing over to the Persians some of the places formerly subject to the Romans. Having learned by experience that the empire had suffered harm through the wrath of God against the emperor before him, without delay he wrote to the governors of the provinces that the people should assemble in the churches and worship God diligently, and that the faith of the Christians alone should be the object of reverence for his subjects. He also restored their exemptions to the churches and the clergy, to widows and virgins, and whatever had formerly been granted or enacted by Constantine and his sons for the benefit and honour of religion and had later been taken away under Julian. He also addressed to Secundus, who then held the prefect’s authority, a general law ordering capital punishment for anyone who tried to woo a holy virgin for marriage, or even only looked at one lustfully, still more for anyone who attempted to carry one off. He made this law because certain wicked men in Julian’s reign had celebrated marriages with such virgins, either by force or having corrupted them by persuasion, as shameful desire is wont to do, since the troubles of religion had led them to suppose that they could dare this without danger.

The inquiries and debates about doctrine were again stirred up among the heads of the churches. For during Julian’s reign, when Christianity was in danger altogether, they kept quiet, and all with one accord besought God to be merciful to them. So it somehow pleases human beings, when wronged by others, to be of one mind with those of their own kind, but when freed from evils from outside, to quarrel among themselves. But how many states and nations this has befallen it is not the present occasion to recount. About this time Basil, bishop of Ancyra, Silvanus of Tarsus, Sophronius of Pompeiopolis and those with them, who rejected the heresy of the so-called Anomoeans but accepted the term homoiousios (“of like essence”) in place of homoousios, sent a petition to the emperor, confessing their thanks to God that he had set him over the Roman empire. They asked either that what had been done at Ariminum and Seleucia should remain in force and that what had been done by the zeal and power of certain persons should be void; or, if the schism that had existed in the churches before the synods continued, that the bishops everywhere should be allowed to meet by themselves wherever they wished, with no one else taking part; and that the undertakings of those who wished to act in a partisan way or to deceive should not go forward according to their aim, as under the emperor Constantius. They explained that they had not come to the camp so as not to seem troublesome; but if they were permitted, they would gladly do so, using their own beasts and at their own expense. Such was what they wrote to the emperor Jovian. Meanwhile a synod held at Antioch in Syria confirmed the faith of those who had met at Nicaea, and it prevailed, so that the Son was held beyond dispute to be of the same essence with the Father. Meletius, who then governed the church of Antioch itself, took part in this synod, and Eusebius of Samosata, Pelagius of Laodicea in Syria, Acacius of Caesarea in Palestine, Irenion of Gaza and Athanasius of Ancyra. Having done this, they informed the emperor of their decisions, writing as follows: “To our most pious and most God-beloved lord Jovian, victorious Augustus, the synod of the bishops from various provinces assembled at Antioch. That your piety has been zealous above all to honour the peace and concord of the church we too know well, most God-beloved emperor. Nor are we unaware that you have rightly understood the stamp of the true and orthodox faith to be the chief point of such unity. Therefore, lest we be thought to be ranked with those who counterfeit the doctrines of the truth, we report to your piety that we accept and hold the faith of the holy synod gathered long ago at Nicaea. For even the term in it that seems strange to some — we mean homoousios — has received from the fathers a safe interpretation, meaning that the Son was begotten from the essence of the Father, and that he is like the Father in essence. Nor is the term ‘essence’ taken as though any passion were conceived in the ineffable generation, nor according to any Greek usage, but for the overthrow of what was impiously dared by Arius concerning the Son, that he is from things that are not; which the Anomoeans who have now appeared shamelessly proclaim with still greater boldness and daring, to the ruin of the concord of the church. We have attached to this our report a copy of the same faith set out by the bishops assembled at Nicaea, which we also cherish.” Such were the decisions of the priests then staying at Antioch, who appended in its own words to their document the faith set out by those who met at Nicaea.

At this time Athanasius too, who governed the throne of the Alexandrians, after consulting a few of his associates, thought it necessary to see the emperor, since he was a Christian; and coming to Antioch, he informed the ruler of what he needed. Others say that the emperor himself summoned him to advise on what should be done concerning religion and right belief. Having arranged the affairs of the church as well as was possible, he took thought for his return. Euzoius, the bishop of the Arian heresy at Antioch, was eager that Probatius the eunuch should preside over that belief at Alexandria. When Euzoius’s party had proposed this, a certain Lucius, an Alexandrian by birth, a presbyter of those ordained by George, approached the emperor; and slandering Athanasius as one who had always been the subject of indictments during his episcopate and had often been condemned to live in exile by the emperors before him, and as having been a cause of dissension and turmoil concerning the divine, he asked that another should oversee the church of the Alexandrians in his place. But the emperor, who knew of the plots that had then been laid against Athanasius, paid no attention to the slanders against him. He ordered Lucius, with a threat, to keep quiet; and he ordered Probatius and the eunuchs with him to be punished, as the causes of such disturbances; and Athanasius, who had become his close friend above all through their meeting at that time, he sent back to Egypt, bidding him lead the churches and the peoples as seemed best to him. For he is said to have praised him exceedingly for the virtue he had, for his life, his prudence and his eloquence … So the faith of those who met at Nicaea, which had been fought against in the intervening time, as was told above, again prevailed under the present rule. But not long afterwards it was to experience similar turmoil. For, it seems, the prophecy of the monk Antony did not have its end only in what befell the church under Constantius; there still remained what happened afterwards under Valens. For it is said that in Constantius’s reign, before those of the Arian heresy gained control of the churches, Antony saw in a dream mules kicking the altar and overturning the holy table, and at once foretold that turmoil would overtake the church through … and mixed doctrines, and a rising of those of other beliefs. And that these things were seen and spoken truly, what happened before and after showed.

Jovian, after about eight months on the throne, while on his way to Constantinople, died suddenly on the road at Dadastana, a place in Bithynia, either, as some say, from having supped too freely, or from the smell of the room in which he slept, which had been newly coated with lime. For moisture had come out and the walls had become exceedingly damp, since many coals were burning there for warmth, as it was winter. When the army reached Nicaea in Bithynia, they proclaimed Valentinian emperor, a good man and worthy of rule. He happened then to be present, having come back from exile. For it is said that when Julian ruled the Romans, he had dismissed him from the army, when he was a tribune of the unit called the Joviani, and punished him with perpetual exile: ostensibly because he had drawn up the soldiers under him improperly against the enemy, but in truth for this reason. While Julian was still among the western Gauls, he came to a temple to sacrifice, and Valentinian was with him; for it was an old custom of the Romans that the commander of the Joviani and Herculiani — these are units of picked soldiers, named the one after Heracles and the other after Zeus — should always follow close behind the emperor as guards. When he was about to cross the threshold of the temple, the priest, holding some wet branches, sprinkled those who entered, according to pagan custom. A drop fell on Valentinian’s clothing, and he was angry, for he was a Christian, and he reviled the one sprinkling. They say also that, with the emperor watching, he at once cut off and threw away, together with the drop itself, as much of his clothing as had been wetted. Julian, resenting this from then on, not long afterwards condemned him to live permanently at Melitene in Armenia, alleging as the reason his slackness with the soldiers under him. For he did not want it to seem that he was harming him for his religion, lest he be thought worthy of the honours of a martyr or a confessor. For this reason he spared the other Christians too, seeing that they gained glory and strength for the doctrine through dangers, as has been said before. When Jovian was entrusted with the rule of the Romans, Valentinian was recalled from exile to Nicaea; and since Jovian happened to die, after the army and those then holding the great offices had deliberated, Valentinian was chosen to reign by the vote of all. When he had received the insignia of rule and the soldiers cried out that he should make another his partner in the empire, he said: “To choose me to rule you, soldiers, was in your power. But now that you have chosen me, the one you now ask for is not in your power but in mine; and you who are ruled must keep quiet, and I, as emperor, must consider what is to be done.” Having addressed them so at that time, he did not yield to the soldiers. But not long after, coming to Constantinople, he proclaimed his brother emperor; and he gave him the eastern part of the empire, while he placed under himself the regions from Illyricum to the western ocean and all the mainland opposite as far as the furthest Libyans. Both were Christians in religion, but they differed in belief and in character. For Valens, having had Eudoxius the bishop as his initiator when he was baptized, was zealous for the faith of Arius and thought it a fine thing to force everyone to share his belief. Valentinian, holding the same beliefs as those who had met at Nicaea, helped them, but troubled those of other beliefs not at all.

When Valentinian set out from Constantinople for Rome, travelling through Thrace, the bishops of the Hellespont and Bithynia, and all others who held it right to call the Son of the same essence with the Father, put forward Hypatianus, bishop of Heraclea …, to go as envoy for them, asking that they be permitted to meet for the correction of the doctrine. When he came and reported the bishops’ request, Valentinian answered: “For me, ranked with the laity, it is not lawful to busy myself with such matters; let the priests, whose concern this is, meet by themselves wherever they wish.” When the emperor had given such an answer to Hypatianus’s embassy, they met at Lampsacus. After deliberating for two months, they finally decreed that what had been done at Constantinople through the zeal of the party of Eudoxius and Acacius was void; that the exposition of the faith which they had brought forward as belonging to the western bishops, and had induced some to sign on the promise of condemning the “unlike in essence,” a promise they had broken, was also invalid; and that the belief should prevail that the Son is like the Father in essence, the addition of “like” being necessary because of the meaning of the hypostases. They decreed that the faith confessed at Seleucia, which had been set out at the dedication of the church at Antioch, should be the rule in every church; that those deposed by those who say that the Son is unlike the Father should take back their own thrones, as unlawfully driven from their churches; and that if anyone wished to accuse them, he should do so at equal risk to himself; and that the judges should be the orthodox bishops of the province and of the neighbouring provinces, meeting in the church where the witnesses of each one’s life are. Having determined these things, they summoned the party of Eudoxius and offered them repentance; and when they would not listen, they made known their decisions to the churches everywhere. Reckoning, as was likely, that Eudoxius would win over the palace to his side and slander them, they decided to forestall him and report what had been done at Lampsacus. This they did, meeting the emperor Valens at Heraclea as he was returning from Thrace; for he had accompanied his brother for some distance on his journey to elder Rome. But Eudoxius had already arranged matters with the emperor and his court as he wished. So when the envoys from Lampsacus came to him, he bade them not to quarrel with Eudoxius. When they objected, and blamed Eudoxius for the deceit practised at Constantinople and for what had been plotted against the decisions of Seleucia, he was moved to anger, ordered them to live in exile, and ordered the churches to be handed over to Eudoxius’s party. Meanwhile he went to Syria; for he suspected that the Persians might break the thirty years’ truce made under Jovian. When they made no move, he stayed at Antioch. Then he condemned Meletius the bishop to exile, but spared Paulinus out of respect for his life. Those who did not communicate with Euzoius he drove from the churches, fined, tortured and otherwise afflicted.

Then, as one may conjecture, things worse than these would have happened, had not the war against Procopius intervened. For he seized power as a usurper at Constantinople, gathered a great army in a short time, and hurried against Valens. Valens, marching from Syria, engaged him near Nacolia, a city of Phrygia; and having taken him alive through the treachery of Agelo and Gomarius, his generals, he put him and the traitors to death pitiably. For it is said that the latter, though he had sworn to be well disposed to them, he had sawn in two; and as for Procopius, he bent down two trees standing not far apart, fastened a leg to each tree, and let them spring up; and they, straightening to their usual position, tore the man apart. When the war had ended, he came to Nicaea; and being at peace, he again troubled those who did not share his belief about the divine. He was exceedingly angry with those who had met at Lampsacus, because they had condemned the bishops who held Arius’s views and the document on the faith set out at Ariminum. In this frame of anger he brought Eleusius from Cyzicus, set up an assembly of bishops of his own belief, and tried to force him to share their faith. At first Eleusius resisted bravely; but fearing exile and the confiscation of his property — for Valens threatened him with these if he did not obey — he did what was ordered. And at once he repented; and returning to Cyzicus he publicly confessed his sin in the church and urged them to ordain another bishop; for it was no longer fitting that he should serve as priest, having become a betrayer of his own doctrine. But the people of Cyzicus, very well disposed to him out of respect for the man’s conduct, would not have another bishop. When Eudoxius, the head of the Arian belief at Constantinople, learned this, he ordained Eunomius bishop of Cyzicus; for he thought that, being a powerful speaker, he would easily draw the people of Cyzicus to his own doctrine by some persuasion. When Eunomius came to Cyzicus by the emperor’s order, Eleusius withdrew and Eunomius took possession of the churches there. Those who followed Eleusius built a house of prayer outside and held their assemblies before the city. Of Eunomius, and of the heresy named after him, I shall speak a little later.

Similar evils were suffered by those at Constantinople who upheld the doctrine of those who met at Nicaea, and with them those who held the views of Novatus. The emperor ordered them all to be driven from the city, and the churches of the Novatians to be shut; but of the others he had nothing to shut, for they had already been deprived of them earlier, in the reign of Constantius. He also condemned to exile at that time Agelius, who since the times of Constantius had led the church of the Novatians in Constantinople. He was said to live in a wonderful way according to the laws of the church; and his life, which is the chief thing in philosophy, was free from the possession of money, as his manner of living showed: for he used one tunic and always walked without shoes. But not long after he himself was recalled, took back the churches under him, and held assemblies without fear. The cause of this was a certain Marcian, who, admired for his life and learning, had formerly served in the palace and was then a presbyter of the Novatian heresy and taught grammar to the emperor’s daughters, Anastasia and Carosa, after whom baths in Constantinople are named to this day. Out of respect and gratitude toward him, these favours were granted to the Novatians alone.

About this time a son named after the emperor Valentinian was born to him in the West; and not long after, Gratian, whom he had had before his accession, was made emperor. Meanwhile, although hail like stones fell unusually in many places, and very great earthquakes did great damage to other cities and especially to Nicaea in Bithynia, the emperor Valens and the bishop Eudoxius did not cease persecuting Christians who believed otherwise than they did. Against those who shared the belief of those who met at Nicaea they seemed somehow to have accomplished their aim; for in the greater part of the territory ruled by Valens, and above all in Thrace, Bithynia and the Hellespont and still further afield, they had neither churches nor priests. But against those who held the views of Macedonius, who in this region were many times more numerous than they, they were angry; and turning against them, they persecuted them severely. These, in fear of the evils threatening them, sent envoys to one another from city to city, and judged it better to take refuge with Valentinian and the bishop of the Romans, and to share the faith with them rather than with Eudoxius and Valens and their party. When this seemed good, they chose three of their number for this purpose, Eustathius bishop of Sebasteia, Silvanus of Tarsus and Theophilus of Castabala, and sent them to the emperor Valentinian, writing to Liberius the bishop of the Romans and to the priests in the West that, since they had a tried and firm faith from the apostles and ought above others to care for religion, they should help their envoys with all their strength and deliberate with them about …, until they decided how to set right the affairs of the church. When they arrived, they learned that the emperor was in Gaul, … the barbarians bordering on that country. The road to Gaul appearing to them … because of the war, they gave the letters to Liberius. Having communicated about the matters of their embassy, they condemned Arius and those who taught as he did; they rejected every heresy opposed to the faith of the synod at Nicaea; and they accepted the term homoousios as meaning the same as “like in essence.” When Liberius had received their written confession of these things, he communicated with them, and wrote to the bishops of the East praising their concord and agreement in doctrine, and reported what had been done with the envoys. The confession of Eustathius’s party was this.

“To our lord brother and fellow minister Liberius, Eustathius, Silvanus and Theophilus, greeting in the Lord. Because of the mad suspicions of the heretics, who do not cease sowing offences in the catholic churches, we, to remove every pretext, confess the synod held at Lampsacus and at Smyrna and in other various places by orthodox bishops; and as envoys of the synod we bring letters to your goodness and to all the bishops of Italy and the West, that we hold and keep the faith which was set out at the holy synod in the time of the blessed Constantine by three hundred and eighteen God-bearing fathers, and which remains until now and for ever in an unmixed and unshaken state, in which the homoousios is placed in holiness and piety against the perversion of Arius. Likewise we confess with our own hand that we, together with those named above, have held and hold the same faith and will keep it to the end; condemning Arius and his impious teaching with his disciples, and every heresy of the Patripassian, of Marcion, of Photinus, of Marcellus, of Paul of Samosata, the teaching of these and all who think like them. All heresies opposed to the aforesaid holy faith, which was piously set out by the holy fathers at Nicaea, we anathematize; anathematizing Arius especially, and what was done at Ariminum contrary to the aforesaid faith of the holy synod of Nicaea, to which we subscribed, persuaded by deceit and perjury, when it was brought to Constantinople from Nice in Thrace.” Having made this confession, they joined to their own confession the faith set out at Nicaea in its own words; and having received letters from Liberius about what had been done, they sailed to Sicily.

A synod was held there too, and the bishops there decreed the same things; having done this, they returned. At that time a synod was being held at Tyana by Eusebius, bishop of Caesarea in Cappadocia, Athanasius of Ancyra, Pelagius of Laodicea, Zeno of Tyre, Paul of Emesa, Otreius of Melitene, Gregory of Nazianzus and many others, who had voted at Antioch under Jovian’s reign to uphold the homoousios; and the letters of Liberius and the westerners were read. Overjoyed at these, they wrote to all the churches to read the decisions of the western bishops and the letters of Liberius and of the Italians, the Africans, the western Gauls and the Sicilians — for the envoys from Lampsacus had brought letters from these too — and to reckon the number of them all; for they far outnumbered the synod at Ariminum; and to become of one mind and in communion with them, and to declare in a letter of their own that they held this view; and to meet at Tarsus in Cilicia while it was still spring, on a fixed day which they appointed. So they urged one another to meet. When the synod at Tarsus was already about to assemble, about thirty-four of the bishops of Asia met in Caria in Asia; they praised the zeal for the concord of the churches but rejected the term homoousios, and maintained that the faith set out at Antioch and Seleucia should prevail, as being that of the martyr Lucian and as having been tested by those before them amid dangers and much sweat. But the emperor, through Eudoxius’s zeal, broke up the synod expected in Cilicia, writing about it and adding threats. Separately he ordered the governors of the provinces to drive from the churches the bishops who had been deposed under Constantius and had taken back their priesthood in the reign of Julian. Because of this order the authorities in Egypt too were eager to take the churches there from Athanasius and drive him from the city. For no ordinary penalty was attached to the imperial letter if this were not done: it condemned all alike, governors and the soldiers under them and the city councils, to pay large sums of money, and threatened them with bodily tortures. The multitude of the Christians gathered and asked the prefect not to drive out the bishop heedlessly, but to examine more precisely the terms of the imperial letter, as applying only to those who had returned under Julian after exile under Constantius. Athanasius, they said, had been exiled under Constantius, but had been recalled by him and had recovered his see; Julian, who recalled all others, had persecuted him alone; and Jovian again had recalled him. Saying this they did not convince him; but they held out nonetheless and would not allow force to be used. As the people streamed together from every side and there was much uproar and turmoil throughout the city and a riot was expected, the prefect reported to the emperor what had happened and allowed Athanasius to remain in the city. Some days later, when the riot that had been stirred up seemed to have subsided, Athanasius secretly left the city in the evening and hid in a certain place. At an untimely hour of the same night the prefect of Egypt and the commander of the troops there seized the church in which he had his lodging; and having searched for him everywhere, even in the upper rooms, they withdrew, having failed in their plan. For they thought that, now that the multitude had forgotten its former agitation, if they attacked when all had turned to sleep, they would easily carry out the emperor’s order and keep the city free from riot. Everyone was naturally amazed that Athanasius was not found. For whether he withdrew because a divine power had forewarned him, or because certain persons had told him, both come to the same thing; and it seemed beyond human foresight to learn of the plot in advance, at so critical a moment, and guard against it. Others say that, foreseeing the irrational movement of the multitude, and fearing lest he should seem to be the cause of the evils that would follow, he spent all this time in his father’s tomb. So he escaped and lay hidden. Not long afterwards the emperor wrote that he should return and have the church. I judge that Valens came to write this against his intention, either reckoning with the prevailing esteem for Athanasius, and that Valentinian would probably blame him for it, since he upheld the doctrine of those who met at Nicaea; or, because those who praised Athanasius were many, suspecting their agitation, lest they cause some revolt to the harm of public affairs. I think too, as is likely, that the heads of the Arian heresy did not press very hard in this matter, reckoning that if he were driven from the city, he would again trouble the emperors, would gain from this an occasion for conversing with them, and would win Valens over, and stir Valentinian to anger as one of the same mind. For they were especially fearful because of what had happened under Constantius, having experienced his virtue. For even then he so overcame his opponents’ plots that Constantius gladly gave up to him the churches of Egypt, and he hardly yielded to Constantius’s letters to return from Italy for this purpose. This, then, I conjecture to be the reason why Athanasius was not deprived of the church as the others were. For the others a persecution followed like the pagan one. Exile beyond the frontier was pressed upon those who refused to share the same belief; houses of prayer were taken from some and handed over to others. But Egypt was so far untouched by these things, while Athanasius was still alive.

The emperor Valens decided to go to Antioch on the Orontes. While he was on his way, Eudoxius died, having held the churches in Constantinople for eleven years. They were entrusted to Demophilus, ordained as his successor by those who held the views of Arius. Those of the doctrine of the synod at Nicaea, thinking this had happened opportunely for them, elected a certain Evagrius as their bishop. He was ordained by Eustathius, who had governed the church of the Antiochenes in Syria; for, recalled from exile by Jovian, he was then living secretly in Constantinople, teaching those who shared his belief and urging them to remain in the same opinion about the divine. Thereupon those of the Arian heresy, stirred to riot, harshly persecuted the supporters of Evagrius’s ordination. The emperor, learning this at Nicomedia, halted his journey for a time; and fearing lest the city suffer some harm from riot, he decided to send to Constantinople as many soldiers as he thought sufficient for this. He ordered Eustathius to be arrested and to live at Bizye, a city of Thrace, and Evagrius to be taken elsewhere. So it turned out.

Those who held the views of Arius, becoming bolder, as tends to happen to the prosperous, plotted intolerably against those of the opposite belief. They, insulted in their bodies, handed over to magistrates and to prisons, and their property little by little consumed by the frequent fines that followed, decided to petition the emperor, so as to find some release from their sufferings. For this they chose eighty churchmen, led by Urbanus, Theodore and Menedemus. When they arrived at Nicomedia, they presented a petition in which they had written down their sufferings. The emperor was extremely angry, but did not make plain how angry he was; secretly he ordered the prefect to arrest and kill them. The prefect, fearing lest the multitude riot if so many pious men who had done no wrong were put to death without reason, pretended to condemn them to exile. On the pretext of sending them away, he put them on board a ship, and they did not bear this ignobly. When they were sailing in the middle of the gulf called Astacenus, the sailors, as they had been ordered, set fire to the vessel and withdrew, leaping into the ship’s boat. The ship, driven by a following wind, held out on its course as far as Dacibiza, a place on the coast of Bithynia; and as soon as it touched land it broke up, burned together with the men.

Valens left Nicomedia and made his way to Antioch. Meanwhile, staying in Cappadocia, he was eager, as was his custom, to harm the orthodox and to hand over the churches there to those who held the views of Arius. He thought he would accomplish this easily because, through some disagreement, Basil had been brought to vexation with Eusebius, who then governed the church of Caesarea. For this reason Basil had withdrawn to Pontus and was living with the monks practising the philosophic life there. The people, and especially the most powerful and the wisest, held Eusebius under suspicion, as having become the cause of the flight of a man most renowned for his life and eloquence, and were planning to abandon him and hold assemblies by themselves. Basil, so as not to be responsible for a church not free from disturbances because of the risings of those of other belief, kept quiet in the monasteries about Pontus. The emperor and the bishops with him — for those of the Arian heresy were always with him — were made more eager for the attempt by Basil’s absence and the people’s hatred of Eusebius. But it turned out against their expectation. For as soon as it was announced that they were marching on Cappadocia, Basil left Pontus and came of his own accord to Caesarea; and being reconciled with Eusebius, he was well disposed to him, and came opportunely to the church’s help with his words. Valens, having failed in his effort, then withdrew unsuccessful with the bishops who were with him.

Some time later Valens came again to Cappadocia and found that Basil had been entrusted with the churches there after the death of Eusebius. Having resolved to drive him out, he refrained from the plot against his will. For it is said that on the night following the attempt his wife fell into terrors, and Galates, the only son he had, died of a swift illness. Everyone thought that God had avenged what had been planned against Basil by taking away the child to afflict the parents. Valens too supposed this; at any rate, after his son died, he troubled Basil no more. While the boy was alive but ill and about to die, he sent to Basil begging him to pray for the sick child. For as soon as Valens came to Caesarea, the prefect summoned Basil and ordered him to adopt the emperor’s beliefs, and threatened him with death if he disobeyed. Basil said that it would be worth much to him, and that he would be very grateful, if he would quickly free him from the bonds of the body. When the prefect told him to deliberate that day and the following night, and not to leap heedlessly into evident danger, but to come the next day and make his mind plain, he said: “I have no need to deliberate. I shall be the same tomorrow too. For, being a creature myself, I will not endure to worship one like me and confess him God, nor to share religion with you and the emperor. For even if you are very distinguished and govern no small … , I will not … neglect my faith toward God, which I would never betray, though condemned to confiscation of property, or exile, or death. For none of these can grieve me. I have no property but a ragged cloak and a few books; I dwell on the earth as one always passing through; and my body, through weakness, will be beyond feeling and torture after the first blow.” When Basil had spoken so freely, the prefect, admiring the man’s virtue, reported to the emperor. During the celebration of the feast of the Theophany, the emperor came to the church with his officials and guards, offered gifts at the holy table, entered into conversation with Basil, and praised his wisdom and the order and good discipline of his priestly and liturgical ministry. Yet not long after, through the slander of his opponents, the decision prevailed that Basil should live in exile; and the night came on which this was to be done. But suddenly fever seized the emperor’s son and cast him into a sudden and dangerous illness. The father threw himself on the ground, mourning the child while still alive; and being at a loss and eager by every means to keep him safe, he allowed his household to summon Basil to visit the sick boy; for, having so lately insulted him, he was ashamed to send for him himself. As soon as he came, the child grew better, so that many then maintained that he would not have died, had not the emperor also called in men of other belief together with Basil to pray for the child. It is said also that the prefect fell ill then, and that, when he begged and entreated Basil, he became well. But these things perhaps will not seem marvellous when considered in the case of Basil, a man of the highest philosophy and exceedingly renowned for his eloquence.

He and Gregory, being contemporaries, were known, so to speak, as rivals in virtue. For both, when young, studied at Athens under Himerius and Prohaeresius, the most esteemed sophists of the time, and afterwards at Antioch under Libanius the Syrian. Disdaining to practise as sophists and to plead at law, they resolved to live the philosophic life according to the rule of the church. Having spent some time on the studies of the Greek philosophers and having mastered the interpretations of the sacred words from the works of Origen and of those before and after him who were renowned for interpreting the sacred books, they were of great help at that time to those who shared the belief of those who met at Nicaea. For each bravely stood up for this doctrine of the synod at Nicaea against those who held the views of Arius, and refuted them as neither holding the other doctrines rightly nor the opinions of Origen, on which they most relied. By common agreement, or by lot, as I have learned from some, they divided the dangers between them. Basil went round the cities of Pontus, established many communities of monks there, and by teaching the multitudes persuaded them to think as he did. Gregory, who had been allotted the oversight of Nazianzus, a small city, after his father, for this reason visited other places too, and above all Constantinople continually. Not long after he was entrusted with the leadership of the people there by the vote of many priests. For since there was neither a bishop nor a church there, the doctrine was in danger of no longer existing at all in Constantinople

When the emperor came to Antioch, he drove entirely out of the churches there and in the surrounding cities those who believed as those who met at Nicaea, and afflicted them with punishments of every kind; so that some maintain that he put many of them to death in various ways and ordered them to be thrown into the river Orontes. Learning that at Edessa there was a famous house of prayer named after the apostle Thomas, he came to see it. Since the houses of prayer had been taken from them there too, when he saw those of the catholic church gathered in the plain before the city, he is said to have reviled the prefect and struck him on the jaw with his fist, for having allowed such assemblies to take place contrary to his order. Modestus — for that was the prefect’s name — though he was of another belief, secretly sent word to the Edessenes to take care not to meet the next day at their usual place to pray; for he had been ordered by the emperor to punish those who were caught. He uttered these threats intending that few or none should be in danger, and eager to excuse himself with respect to the ruler’s anger. But the Edessenes, making nothing of the threat, streamed together at dawn more zealously than before and filled the usual place. When this was reported, Modestus did not know what to do; but at a loss in the circumstances, he nevertheless went to the plain. A certain woman, dragging a little child and trailing her cloak carelessly, against the decorum fitting a woman, as if hurrying on some urgent business, cut through the line of soldiers leading the prefect. Seeing this, Modestus ordered her to be arrested, called her, and demanded that she tell the reason for her running. She said that it was to reach the plain quickly, where those of the catholic church were assembling. “Are you the only one,” said Modestus, “who does not know that the prefect is about to go there at once and will kill all whom he finds?” “Yes, I have heard,” she said, “and for this very reason I must run, so that I may not be too late and miss bearing witness for God.” “But why are you bringing this child with you?” asked the prefect. “So that he too,” she said, “may share in the common suffering and be thought worthy of the same reward.” Modestus, admiring the woman’s courage, turned back to the palace; and consulting with the ruler about her, persuaded him that what had been decided must not be carried out, showing it to be shameful and inexpedient. So the city of the Edessenes, as a whole people, confessed in the manner described for the doctrine.

About this time Athanasius, bishop of the church of the Alexandrians, died, having completed about forty-six years in the high priesthood. Those who held the views of Arius quickly made his death known, and not long after Euzoius, who presided over the Arian heresy at Antioch, arrived, and with him Magnus, the keeper of the treasuries, sent by the emperor; they arrested and imprisoned Peter, to whom Athanasius had entrusted the episcopate, and handed over the church of the Alexandrians to Lucius. From that time the people in Egypt fared worse than those elsewhere, and calamities following calamities pressed upon those of the catholic church. For as soon as Lucius arrived in the city of the Alexandrians, he tried to take possession of the churches. When the people resisted, a charge of rioting was framed against the clergy and the holy virgins; and as if enemies had overrun the city, some fled, while others were pursued, caught, and kept in chains. Brought out from the prison, they were punished, some torn with ox-hide thongs, others burned with torches. It was a wonder to survive the punishments; and to be condemned to live in exile before experiencing them was thought enviable. So these things went on. Peter the bishop, escaping from the prison, found a ship and sailed to the bishop of the Romans, as to one of the same belief. And the followers of Arius, though not many, took control of the churches. At the same time an order of the emperor followed, to drive out of Alexandria and Egypt itself those of the same belief as those who met at Nicaea, whomever Lucius directed; for so it had been commanded to the governor of the province. Euzoius, having accomplished what he was eager for, returned to Antioch.

Lucius, taking the commander of the soldiers in Egypt, marched with a large force against the monks in the deserts. For he perhaps thought that if he harassed them, lovers of quiet as they were, he would have them obedient, and by this especially would bring over to himself the Christians in the cities. For many divine men then presided over the monasteries there, and all rejected the belief of Arius. The multitude, following their testimony, believed likewise, neither wishing nor knowing how to debate and chatter about doctrines, but persuaded that the truth was with those who showed virtue in their deeds. Such, we hear, were the leaders of the Egyptian ascetics at that time: the two Macarii, of whom we learned earlier, and Pambo and Heraclides and the other disciples of Antony. Lucius, therefore, reckoning that those of Arius’s party would never firmly prevail over those of the catholic church unless he made these monks share their views, tried to use force, since he could not persuade them. But even so he missed his aim. For they were prepared, if they must, to die, and offered their necks readily to the swords, rather than disregard the decisions of Nicaea. It is said that when the soldiers were expected to attack them, a man whose joints had long been withered and who could not stand on his feet was brought to them. When they had anointed him with oil, they bade him rise in the name of Christ, whom Lucius persecutes, and go home; and the man, suddenly made well, showed openly that one ought to believe as these did, for whom God himself had given his vote for the truth, Lucius being condemned, by hearing their call and healing the sick man. But not even for this did those plotting against these monks repent; until at last they seized them by night and took them across to an island of Egypt surrounded by marshes. It was inhabited by men uninitiated in the Christian doctrine and superstitious, since there was a very ancient temple among them which they greatly revered. When they put in there, they say that as soon as the men set foot on it, the daughter of the priest, possessed by a demon, came to meet them. As the girl ran and shouted, the people there, astounded at the suddenness and strangeness of the thing, followed. When she came to the boat that carried the holy old men, wailing and rolling on the ground, she begged and cried out loudly: “Why have you come to us too, servants of the great God? For this little island is our ancient dwelling. We trouble no one; unknown to all men, we lie hidden here, shut in on every side by these marshes. But if this is your pleasure, take our possession and make it your own; we withdraw.” Such were the cries she uttered; and when Macarius and his companions rebuked the demon, the girl came to her senses. Thereupon her father with his household, and the whole island with them, changed over to Christianity; and quickly destroying their temple, they converted it into a church. When these things were reported at Alexandria, they grieved Lucius not a little. For he was in danger of being hated by his own followers, as one who had declared open war not on men but on God himself. And at once he ordered Macarius and his companions to return to their own haunts and the desert. So Lucius troubled Egypt. About this time … was distinguished not only by Didymus the philosopher, who was then at his height, but also by other learned men; looking to whose virtue, and to that of the monks there, … held out against Lucius’s party. And the church in Egypt, though persecuted, far surpassed the followers of Arius in numbers …

… one bishop for the whole nation oversees the churches; and at the present time Bretannio governed them. And the emperor Valens came to Tomi. When he came to the church and, as was his custom, tried to persuade Bretannio to communicate with those of the opposite heresy, Bretannio spoke very boldly to the ruler about the doctrine of those who met at Nicaea, then left him and went to another church; and the people followed. Almost the whole city had gathered to see the emperor, expecting something unusual to happen. Valens, left behind with his retinue, took the insult hard; he had Bretannio arrested and ordered him to be taken into exile, but not long after allowed him to be brought back. For seeing, I think, that the Scythians were angry at their bishop’s exile, he feared lest they rise in revolt; for he knew them to be brave, and by the situation of their country necessary to the Roman empire, as a bulwark before the barbarians of that region. So Bretannio showed himself stronger than the ruler’s zeal — a man good in every respect and distinguished for the virtue of his life, as the Scythians themselves bear witness. In general the whole clergy experienced the emperor’s anger for these reasons, except in the churches of the western part of the empire. For Valentinian ruled the Romans there, a supporter of the doctrine of the synod of Nicaea and exceedingly reverent toward the divine, so that he neither gave any orders to the priests nor chose otherwise to innovate, for better or for worse as it might seem, in the laws of the church. For he considered these things beyond his own judgment, though he was a very good emperor and had shown himself able to rule by his deeds.

At this time the question, which had already begun earlier but now grew greater, was again raised whether the Holy Spirit should be held to be of the same essence with the Father and the Son. Many contentious debates took place about this, no fewer than earlier about God the Word. On this point those who said the Son was unlike and those who said he was of like essence agreed with one another; for both maintained that the Spirit is a minister, and third in order, in honour and in essence different. But those who held the Son to be of the same essence with the Father thought the same also about the Spirit. This doctrine was upheld not ignobly in Syria by Apolinarius of Laodicea, in Egypt by Athanasius the bishop, and among the Cappadocians and the churches of Pontus by Basil and Gregory. As this question was stirred up and, as is natural, grew greater every day through contentiousness, the bishop of Rome, learning of it, wrote to the churches of the East, together with the priests of the West, that they should uphold a Trinity of the same essence and equal in glory. When this had been done, each party kept quiet, as though the matter had been decided once for all by the church of the Romans, and the question seemed to have come to an end.

About this time, when Liberius died, Damasus was entrusted with the throne of the Romans. A certain Ursicinus, a deacon, who had been a candidate for the ordination, did not bear his failure; secretly ordained by some obscure bishops, he tried to divide the people and hold his own assemblies. The people being divided, some held him to be bishop and others Damasus; and much strife and rioting, as was natural, took hold of the populace, so that the evil went as far as wounds and murders. At last the prefect of Rome, subjecting many of the people and clergy to punishment, put an end to Ursicinus’s attempt. As for doctrines, as before, neither the Romans nor the others in the West disagreed, but all approved the decisions of those who met at Nicaea and held the Trinity equal in honour and in power — except Auxentius and his party. He then presided over the church at Milan and with some others tried to innovate, and, contrary to the common agreement of the western priests, to strengthen the doctrine of Arius and to think the same as those who hold the Son and the Spirit to be unlike, according to the question that arose later. When those from Gaul and Venetia reported that this was being pursued among them by certain persons, not long after bishops from many provinces met at Rome and decreed that Auxentius and those who believed as he did were strangers to their communion; that the faith handed down by the synod at Nicaea remained firm; and that the decisions of Ariminum contrary to it were invalid, since neither the bishop of the Romans nor the others had agreed to them, and many of those who had met there had been displeased with what was then decided by them. That these things were done and decided so is witnessed by the letter of Damasus, the bishop of the Romans, and of those who then met with him, written to the bishops of Illyricum. It runs as follows: “The bishops who met at Rome in the holy council, Damasus, Valerius and the rest, to the bishops appointed in Illyricum, beloved brothers, greeting in the Lord. We believe that our holy faith, founded on the teaching of the apostles, is held by you and that you set it forth to the people; and it differs in no respect from what the fathers defined. For it is not fitting for the priests of God, by whom it is right that the wise be instructed, to think otherwise. But through the report of our brothers in Gaul and Venetia we have learned that certain persons are pursuing heresy. This evil the bishops ought not only to guard against, but also to resist whatever, through the inexperience or simplicity of some, … by their own interpretations, so as not to slip away from those who think according to a different teaching, but rather to hold fast the mind of our fathers, however often they are carried about by differing counsels. Accordingly it has been written above that Auxentius of Milan in particular has been condemned in this matter. It is right, therefore, that all the teachers in the Roman world should be of one mind and not defile the faith with differing teachings. For when the wickedness of the heretics first began to flourish, as now especially — may it be far from us — the blasphemy of the Arians, our three hundred and eighteen chosen fathers, after deliberation at Nicaea, set up this wall against the weapons of the devil and with this antidote drove off the deadly poisons: that the Father and the Son are to be believed of one Godhead, one power and one substance; and we must believe the Holy Spirit also to be of the same hypostasis. Whoever thinks otherwise we have judged to be a stranger to our communion. Some have wished to defile this saving definition and the adorable consideration. But at the very beginning it was corrected by those very people who were compelled at Ariminum to renew or handle it, so far that they confessed that they had been deceived by a different form of words, because they had not understood it to be contrary to the mind of the fathers approved at Nicaea. For no prejudgment could arise from the number of those gathered at Ariminum, since it is established that neither the bishop of the Romans, whose judgment ought to have been awaited before all others, nor Vincent, who kept his episcopate unblemished for so many years, nor the others agreed to such things; especially since, as we have said before, those very men who seemed to have yielded through intrigue, using better judgment, have testified that these things displease them. Your purity therefore sees that this faith alone, which was founded at Nicaea on the authority of the apostles, must be held with perpetual firmness, and that the easterners who acknowledge themselves to be of the catholic church, and the westerners, glory in it together with us. We believe that before long those who think otherwise will, by this very attempt, be separated from our communion and their name of bishop be taken from them, so that their peoples, freed from error, may breathe again. For they will in no way be able to correct the error of the multitudes when they themselves are held by error. Let the judgment of your honour, then, agree with all the priests of God, in which we believe you to be holy and steadfast. That we ought so to believe together with you, show us by the replies of your love.”

So the priests in the West, having thus forestalled those among them who were innovating, carefully kept the faith handed down to them from the beginning, so that very few of other belief were found there, almost only Auxentius’s party. Not long after, he too was removed from the scene. At his death the people rioted, not agreeing on who should oversee the church of Milan; and the city was in danger. For each party, if it failed, threatened to do what tends to happen in such disturbances. Ambrose, who then governed the province, fearing the agitation of the people, came to the church and advised them to cease from strife, reminding them of the laws, of concord, and of the blessings of peace. Before he had finished speaking about these things, all of a sudden they laid aside their anger with one another and gave their vote for the episcopate to the very man who had counselled concord. They urged him to be baptized — for he was still uninitiated — and begged him to receive the priesthood. When he declined and put it off and fled the matter altogether, while the people pressed him and insisted that they would not otherwise give up their strife, this was reported to the authorities at the palace. At the news of it, the emperor Valentinian is said to have prayed and declared his thanks to God that those whom he himself put forward to govern were chosen to be priests. Learning of the people’s insistence and Ambrose’s refusal, he concluded that God was arbitrating these things for the concord of the church in Milan, and ordered him to be ordained as quickly as possible. As soon as he was initiated he received ordination, and he persuaded the church under him, which had long been divided under the leadership of Auxentius, to be of one mind concerning divine things. What kind of man this Ambrose became after his ordination, and how very bravely and divinely he fulfilled his priesthood, will be told in its place in what follows. About this time the Novatians in Phrygia, contrary to their former custom, began to celebrate the feast of Pascha with the Jews. For Novatus, who was the founder of the heresy, did not admit to communion those who repented of their sins, and innovated in this alone; but like the church of the Romans, he and those after him kept celebrating this feast after the spring equinox. Until in this reign some of the Novatian bishops in Phrygia met at the village of Pazus — a place in Phrygia from which the springs of the river Sangarius flow — and, as if not deigning to agree even in this with those who believed otherwise, they made a law of their own: to observe the feast of Unleavened Bread and to celebrate Pascha with the Jews. Neither Agelius, the bishop of the Novatians in Constantinople, took part in this synod, nor the bishops of Nicaea, Nicomedia or Cotyaeum — a city of Phrygia of some note — whom the Novatians regard, so to speak, as the decisive authorities in matters concerning their own heresy and churches. For what reason these also fell into disagreement, and, dividing themselves, held separate assemblies, I shall tell in due course.

At this time Apolinarius openly took the lead of the heresy named after him, and gathered many cut off from the church around himself. He was helped in establishing his doctrine by Vitalius, a presbyter of Antioch, one of those ordained by Meletius, distinguished as much as anyone for his life and conduct, zealous for those under his guidance, and for this revered by the people. Separating himself from communion with Meletius not long before, he joined Apolinarius and led those of the same belief in the city of the Antiochenes, having no small multitude obeying him out of respect for his conduct; they took their name from him and are still called Vitalians by the Antiochenes. He is said to have done this out of vexation at having been slighted by Flavian, who was later entrusted with the throne of the Antiochenes and was then his fellow presbyter, and at being prevented from seeing the bishop as he used to. Thinking himself outdone in esteem, he gave way to a human weakness, went over to Apolinarius, communicated with him, and held him as his friend. From this time in other cities too they held assemblies apart under their own bishops and used customs foreign to the catholic church, singing, instead of the accustomed sacred songs, certain metrical little songs composed by Apolinarius himself. For besides his other learning he was also a poet, skilled in metres of every kind, and by the charms of these he persuaded many to attend to him. Men at drinking parties and at their work, and women at their looms, sang his songs. For he had composed pieces suited to every occasion — for earnestness, for relaxation, for festivals and the rest — all tending to the praise of God. When Damasus, bishop of the Romans, and Peter of Alexandria first learned that this heresy was creeping into many, a synod was held at Rome and they declared it foreign to the catholic church. It is said that Apolinarius too innovated in doctrine from a similar pettiness of soul, for the following reason. When Athanasius, who governed the church of the Alexandrians, was ordered to return to Egypt after his exile under Constantius, and passed through Laodicea, Apolinarius became his acquaintance and close friend. Since communion with Athanasius was abjured by those of the opposite heresy, among whom was George, the bishop there, Apolinarius was insultingly cast out of the church, as having associated with Athanasius contrary to the canons and the laws of the priests. George accused him on this account and reproached him with old faults that had been absolved by repentance. For while Theodotus, George’s predecessor, still governed the church of Laodicea, Epiphanius the sophist, distinguished at that time, was reciting a hymn to Dionysus. Apolinarius, who had him as a teacher — for he was still young — was present at the recitation with his father, who had the same name and was a grammarian of some note. When Epiphanius, beginning his speech, bade the uninitiated and profane go out of doors, as is the custom of those who give such displays, neither the young Apolinarius nor the old, nor any other of the Christians present, left the recitation. When Theodotus the bishop learned this, he was angry; and rebuking moderately the others, who were ranked among the laity, he granted them pardon; but the two Apolinarii he publicly convicted of their sin and excommunicated from the church, for both were clerics, the father a presbyter, the son still a reader of the sacred Scriptures. After some time had passed, when they had repented in tears and fasting in a manner worthy of their sin, Theodotus received them back. But when George obtained the same see, and Apolinarius had his association with Athanasius, as has been said, George declared him excommunicate and a stranger to the church. Apolinarius is said to have begged him many times to receive back communion; and when he did not prevail, overcome by vexation he troubled the church and introduced by novelty of doctrines the heresy described — avenging himself on his enemy, I mean, by what he could, the art of words, and proving that in teaching sacred doctrines George was not his equal, he brought down the better man. So, somehow, the private enmities of the clergy of the various times have done the greatest harm to the church and cut religion into many heresies. And here is a proof: if George had received Apolinarius on his repentance as Theodotus did, there would not, I think, be the heresy called after him. For human nature, when despised, grows arrogant and turns to contentiousness and innovations; but when it enjoys equal treatment, it tends to be moderate and to remain where it is.

About this time Eunomius, who held the church in Cyzicus in place of Eleusius and was a leader of the Arian heresy, introduced another besides it, which some name after him and others call that of the Anomoeans. Some say that this Eunomius was the first who dared to propose that divine baptism should be performed with a single immersion, and to counterfeit the tradition from the apostles that is still kept everywhere; and in general to devise a different discipline for his own church, wrapping the novelty in greater solemnity and strictness. He was also an artist in words, contentious, and delighting in syllogisms; and one can see that most of those who share his views are like this. For they do not praise a good life or character, or mercy toward the needy — unless the man shares their belief — so much as if someone debates contentiously and seems to win by syllogism; such a one is thought pious beyond all. Others, more truly I think, say that Theophronius the Cappadocian and Eutychius, zealots of this heresy, who cut themselves off in the following reign over other points of Eunomius’s doctrine, also innovated concerning divine baptism, proposing that people be baptized not into the Trinity but into the death of Christ; and that Eunomius made no innovation about this, but held the views of Arius from the beginning and remained so. When he became bishop of Cyzicus, he was accused by the clergy under him of introducing newer doctrines. Then Eudoxius, the leader of the Arian heresy in Constantinople, summoned him and allowed him to address the people on the doctrine; and finding nothing to condemn, he urged him to return to Cyzicus. But Eunomius said that he would not choose to live any longer with those who held him under suspicion, and made this the pretext for his separation; the truth was that they had not received Aetius his teacher; and he remained by himself, changing nothing of his former belief. So some say; others tell it differently. But whether Eunomius or certain others innovated thus in the tradition of baptism, they alone, it seems to me, by their own argument run the risk of leaving this life without divine baptism. For if, having been baptized at first according to the established custom, they could not baptize themselves again, they introduced what had not happened in their own case at the beginning; and what they neither were themselves nor became through others, this they did to others; having built this doctrine on an unsubstantial beginning of their own notion, they handed on to others what they themselves had not received. This is foolish. For it is agreed by them that the uninitiated cannot baptize others; and one not baptized according to the manner of their tradition seems to them unbaptized, as not properly initiated. And they themselves bear witness to this by rebaptizing whomever they can persuade to share their views, if they had previously been initiated according to the tradition of the catholic church. These things too troubled religion not a little, and the variety of the doctrines that arose became a hindrance to those who wished to become Christians. For on every occasion fierce debates took place, and these heresies, as is the way with new ones, flourished, having leaders of no ordinary zeal and power of speech; and, as one may conjecture, they would have drawn most of the catholic church to their belief, had they not found Basil and Gregory the Cappadocians as adversaries, and had not the reign of Theodosius, coming soon after, checked the attempt and driven the very leaders of the heresies from the more populous parts of the empire into more deserted places. So that we may not be altogether ignorant of the doctrine of each heresy, it should be known that the first inventor of the belief of Eunomius was Aetius the Syrian, who after Arius declared that the Son is unlike the Father, created, and come into being from things that are not. Those who held these views were formerly called Aetians. But when, as was said in the reign of Constantius, some holding the Son to be of the same essence with the Father and others of like essence, it seemed good to those then in power, at the synod of Ariminum, to say “like,” Aetius was condemned to exile as a blasphemer against God; and the heresy he had established was in a way dissolved in the intervening time, since neither any other man of note nor Eunomius dared to speak openly for it. But when Eunomius received the church of the Cyzicenes in place of Eleusius, he could no longer keep altogether quiet, and debating before the multitude, he again brought the belief of Aetius into the open. And as often happens, people, forgetting who first invented this heresy, named those who held these views after Eunomius, because after Aetius he renewed this doctrine and worked it out more boldly than the one who first handed it down.

That Eunomius held the same views as Aetius one must agree; for Eunomius himself boasts of Aetius as his teacher, and bears witness to this often, speaking openly in his own writings. Gregory, who was bishop of Nazianzus, accusing Apolinarius, writes this somewhere in a letter to Nectarius, who presided over the church in Constantinople: “Eunomius, the evil we nurse in our bosom, is no longer content merely to exist; unless he drags everyone with him into his own ruin, he counts it a loss. And this is bearable. But the most grievous of all the church’s calamities is the boldness of the Apolinarians, whom your holiness, I do not know how, has overlooked, when they have procured for themselves the freedom to hold assemblies on equal terms with us. Of course, you who have been instructed in the divine mysteries through all things by the grace of God know not only the defence of God the Word but also all that has been devised by the heretics against the sound faith. Yet it is perhaps not out of place for your dignity to hear from our littleness that a pamphlet of Apolinarius has come into my hands, in which what he constructs surpasses all heretical wickedness. For he affirms that the flesh which the only-begotten Son of God took by the dispensation for the reshaping of our nature was not acquired, but that this fleshly nature was in the Son from the beginning. And wrongly taking a certain saying of the Gospel, he puts it forward as a witness to such an absurdity, saying: ‘No one has ascended into heaven except the one who came down from heaven, the Son of Man’; as though he were Son of Man even before he came down, and came down bringing with him his own flesh, which he had in heaven, eternal and of the same essence. For he cites again a certain saying of the apostle, that ‘the second man is from heaven.’ Then he constructs the view that that man who came from above has no mind, but that the Godhead of the Only-begotten, filling up the nature of the mind, became the third part of the human compound, the soul and body being in him in human fashion, but the mind not being there, the God Word filling its place. And this is not yet the dreadful thing; but the most grievous of all is that he maintains that the only-begotten God himself, the judge of all, the author of life, the destroyer of death, is passible, and received suffering in his own Godhead, and that in the three days’ deadness of the body the Godhead also died together with the body, and so was raised again from death by the Father. The other things he adds to such absurdities it would take too long to go through.” What and how Apolinarius and Eunomius believe about God, let whoever cares consider from what has been said. If anyone has resolved to labour at an exact knowledge of such matters, let him seek more from what has been written by them or by others about them; since for me it is not easy either to understand such things or to paraphrase them. It seems that, besides the reasons given, the fact that these doctrines did not prevail and spread to many is to be credited chiefly to the monks of that time. For they held fast to the doctrines of Nicaea, those in Syria and Cappadocia and the surrounding regions who lived the philosophic life. For the East from Cilicia to Phoenicia was in danger of becoming of the heresy of Apolinarius, and from Cilicia and the Taurus mountains to the sea at Constantinople of that of Eunomius; for each easily persuaded those among whom he lived, and those nearby, to share his views. Something similar happened in their case as in Arius’s; for the multitude there, admiring the virtue of the monks described in their deeds, believed that they held right views, and turned away from those who thought otherwise as not pure of spurious doctrines. Just as the Egyptians, following their own monks, were opposed to the

It seems to me timely, having mentioned those who then lived the philosophic life in Christianity, to go through as many of them as I can. For at that time a very great crop of God-loving men flourished. Distinguished among those we know of in Egypt was John, to whom God revealed the future and things hidden from others, no less than to the prophets of old; and he gave him the gift of healing those suffering from incurable afflictions and diseases. And Or, who from his youth lived in the deserts, ever singing hymns to the divine; he fed on herbs and certain roots, and drank water wherever he found it. When as an old man he moved by divine command to the Thebaid, he led very many monasteries, and he too had his share of divine deeds; for by prayer alone he drove out diseases and demons. Though he had not learned letters, he needed no books for remembrance, but everything he took into his mind proved stronger than forgetfulness. In this region also Ammon practised the philosophic life, the leader of those called Tabennesiotes, having about three thousand disciples; and Benus and Theonas led bands of monks and were full of divine foreknowledge and prophecy. It is said that Theonas, who was versed in the learning of the Egyptians, the Greeks and the Romans, practised silence for thirty years; and that Benus was never seen by anyone angry or swearing or lying, or speaking a rash, bold or careless word. About this time there were also Copres, Helles and Elias. They say that Copres was given by God healings of afflictions and various diseases and power over demons; and that Helles, trained from youth in the monastic discipline, worked many wonders, so that he carried fire in his bosom without burning his clothing, and by this urged those who lived the monastic life with him to purify their minds beforehand and to be conscious of nothing wrong, since the display of wonders follows upon good conduct. Elias then lived the philosophic life not far from the city of Antinous, being about a hundred and ten years old; and he said that before this he had lived alone in the deserts for seventy years; and though so old, he continued to fast and to live with fortitude. Besides these, Apelles was then distinguished at Acoris, in the monasteries of Egypt, working many wonders. Once when he was working as a smith — for this was his trade — the phantom of a demon, in the likeness of a comely woman, tempted his chastity by night. But he drew from the fire the iron he was working and burned the demon’s face; and it ran away shrieking and wailing. The most celebrated fathers of monks at that time were Isidore, Serapion and Dioscorus. Isidore fenced in his monastery on every side and took care that none of those within should go out of doors, and that they should have everything they needed within. Serapion lived about the Arsinoite district, with about ten thousand under him. He led them all to provide what they needed by their own toil and to supply others in need; in the summer season they reaped for wages, laid up enough grain for themselves, and shared with other monks. To Dioscorus not more than a hundred came. Being a presbyter, he proceeded with all strictness in his priestly ministry, testing and carefully examining those who came to the mysteries, lest anyone have done something dreadful. At that time Eulogius the presbyter too was very strict about giving the divine mysteries. They say that when he served as priest he had such foreknowledge of the minds of those who came forward that he plainly exposed their sins and saw what each hid in his mind. Those who had done wrong, or had planned something base, he kept from the altar for a time, making the sin plain; and when they had been cleansed by repentance he admitted them again.

In their time Apollo too lived in the Thebaid, who began to live the philosophic life when just coming of age. After living in the desert for forty years, at God’s bidding he settled in a cave under the mountain near the inhabited country. Through the multitude of his wonders he soon became famous and the leader of very many monks; for he was also persuasive in his teaching to their profit. What discipline he followed, and how great were the divine and marvellous deeds he did, is recorded by Timothy, who governed the church of the Alexandrians, who went through very well the lives of him and of many of those I have mentioned and of other approved monks. At that time many good men zealously practised the philosophic life around Alexandria, about two thousand in number, some living in the places called the Hermitages, others around the Mareotis and the neighbouring Libyans. Exceptionally distinguished among them was Dorotheus, a Theban by birth, whose life was this: by day he gathered stones from the sea nearby and each year built a small dwelling and gave it to those unable to build for themselves; by night he plaited cords from palm leaves for his own sustenance and made baskets. His food was six ounces of bread and a bundle of thin vegetables, and water to drink. Having trained himself so from youth, he did not leave off even in old age. He was never seen sleeping on a mat or a bed, or stretching out his feet for rest, or giving himself willingly to sleep, except that while working or eating he closed his eyes under compulsion of nature; so that often, as he dozed while eating, the food fell from his mouth. Once, overcome utterly by sleep, he fell on the mat without noticing; and being grieved at this, he said quietly: “If you persuade the angels to sleep, you will persuade the zealous man too” — hinting, perhaps, at himself, and addressing sleep, or the demon who hinders zealous deeds. When someone came to him while he was toiling so and said, “Why do you kill your body so much?” he answered, “Because it kills me.” Piammon and John at that time presided over most celebrated monasteries about Diolcus in Egypt. Being presbyters, they performed their priestly ministry with the greatest care and great reverence. It is said that once when Piammon was serving as priest he saw a divine angel standing by the holy table and writing in a book the monks who were present and erasing those who were absent. To John God gave such power over afflictions and diseases that he healed many who had gout and whose joints were loosened. At this time Benjamin too, very old, lived the philosophic life most splendidly in Scetis, having a gift from God to free the sick from every disease without medicines, by the touch of his hand alone or with oil over which he had prayed. Such a man, the story goes, fell into dropsy, and his body swelled so much that he could not be carried out through the doors of the cell in which he lived unless they took down the door-posts together with the doors. During his illness, being unable to lie in bed, he sat for about eight months on a very broad chair, healing the sick as usual, and himself not at all distressed that he was not freed from the disease that held him. Rather, he comforted those who saw him and besought them to pray to God for his soul. As for his body, he said he did not care: “For when it was healthy it did me no good, and when it suffers badly it has done me no harm.” At that time there lived in Scetis Mark the celebrated, Macarius the younger, Apollonius and Moses the Ethiopian. They say that Mark, even in his youth, was exceedingly gentle and chaste and mindful of the sacred Scriptures; and so dear to God that Macarius, who was presbyter of the Cells, maintained that he never received from him what it is lawful for priests to give to the initiated at the holy table, but an angel gave it to him, whose hand only as far as the wrist he said he saw. To Macarius God gave grace to despise the demons. The occasion of his philosophic life at the beginning was an involuntary killing. For while still a young boy he was herding sheep by Lake Mareotis, and in play killed one of his companions; and fearing punishment, he fled into the desert. Living in the open air for three years after this, he built himself a small dwelling there, in which he spent twenty-five years. Those who had heard him said that he confessed great gratitude for the calamity and called the involuntary killing saving, since it had become for him the cause of the philosophic and blessed life. Apollonius, who had spent the rest of his time in trade, came to Scetis when already approaching old age. Reckoning that because of his age he could learn neither to write nor any other craft, he bought with his own money medicines of every kind and food suitable for the sick, and went round to every monastic door until the ninth hour, visiting the sick. Finding this discipline suitable for him, he lived so; and when about to die, he handed over what he had to another and charged him to do the same. Moses was a slave, and for his wickedness was driven out of his owner’s house; turning to robbery, he led a band of robbers. After doing much evil and daring many murders, through some reversal of fortune he took up the monastic life and suddenly advanced to the virtue of philosophy. Since from his former way of life he was seething with bodily vigour and was stirred by imaginations of pleasures, he wasted his body with countless austerities: now content with a little bread without relish, now completing a very great amount of work and praying fifty prayers, now for six years standing every whole night in prayer, neither bending the knee nor closing his eyes in sleep. At other times he went round the dwellings of the monks by night and secretly filled each one’s water jar. This was very laborious; for the place from which they drew water was ten stadia distant for some, twenty for others, thirty and more for others. He long kept his former strength, though eager to break it by his many austerities and pressing his body with hardships. It is said, at any rate, that once robbers fell upon the place where he lived the philosophic life alone; he seized them all and bound them, and, there being four of them, put them on his shoulders, brought them to the church, and handed them over to his fellow monks to deal with, as it was no longer lawful for him to harm anyone. They say that no one ever made so great a change from vice to virtue; so that he reached the summit of monastic philosophy, struck an extraordinary fear into the demons, and became presbyter of the monks in Scetis. Being such a man, he died at about seventy-five years old, leaving many excellent disciples. In this reign there were also Paul and Pachon, Stephen and Moses, both Libyans, and Pior the Egyptian. Paul lived at Pherme — this is a mountain in Scetis — with not fewer than five hundred ascetics. He did no work, nor did he receive anything from anyone except what he ate. He only prayed, rendering to God, like a tribute, three hundred prayers each day. And so as not to miss the number unawares, he put three hundred pebbles in his bosom and threw out a pebble at each prayer; when the stones were used up, it was plain that prayers equal in number to the stones had been completed. Pachon too was then distinguished in Scetis; from his youth to old age, neither a healthy body, nor passion of soul, nor demon detected him unmanly in self-control over the things a philosopher must master. Stephen had his dwelling about the Mareotis, not far from Marmarica. Having gone through a strict and most perfect discipline for sixty years, he became a most renowned monk and was known to Antony the great. He was gentle, very wise, and in conversation pleasant and helpful, able to charm the souls of the grieving and turn them to cheerfulness, if they were seized by unavoidable griefs. Such he was also in his own calamities. For when a severe and incurable affliction struck him, he gave the diseased limbs to the physicians to cut, and meanwhile worked with his hands, plaiting palm leaves; and he advised those present not to be distressed at his sufferings nor to think anything else than that what God does turns out altogether to a good end; and that it would profit him to experience such sufferings, perhaps for sins, for which it is better to pay the penalty here than after this life. Moses has been handed down as exceptionally renowned for gentleness and love, and for healings of afflictions accomplished by prayer. Pior, having resolved in his youth to live the philosophic life, when he left his father’s house for this, covenanted with God from then on to see none of his family. After fifty years his sister learned that he was alive. Overwhelmed with boundless joy at the unexpected news, she could not rest unless she saw her brother. The bishop there, pitying her as she lamented and entreated in her old age, wrote to the leaders of the monks in the desert to send Pior out. Ordered to go, and unable to refuse — for it is not lawful for Egyptian monks, nor, I think, for others, to disobey what is commanded — he took someone with him and came to his home town; and standing before his father’s house he sent word that he had come. When he heard the door creak, he shut his eyes, and calling his sister by name, said: “I am Pior your brother; look at me as much as you wish.” She, delighted, gave thanks to God; and he, having prayed at the door, returned to the place where he lived. There he dug a well and found the water bitter; and until his death he endured using it. The time afterwards showed how extraordinary his self-control was; for after he died, though many were eager to live the philosophic life in the same place, no one could endure it. I am convinced that, had he not resolved to live the philosophic life in this way too, it would not have been hard for him by prayer to change the water to a sweet taste, since he made water gush up where there was none at all. Indeed it is said that once, when Moses and his companions were digging a well and the water did not come up, neither from the expected vein nor at any depth, they were about to give up the work. Pior came upon them at midday, greeted them first, reproached them with unbelief and faint-heartedness, went down into the trench, prayed, and struck the earth three times with a pick; and at once the water gushed up and filled the trench. When, having prayed, he was going away, and Moses and his companions begged him to eat with them, he would not, saying that he had not been sent for this, but that what he came for had been accomplished.

At this time there were still distinguished in the monasteries of Scetis Origen, now old, the survivor of the disciples of Antony the great; and Didymus, and Cronion, who was about a hundred and ten years old; and the great Arsisius, and Putubastes, Arsion and Serapion, who were also contemporaries of Antony the great. Having grown old in the philosophic life, they then presided over the monasteries there. Of those in youth and middle age, many fine and good men were known along with them, among them Ammonius, Eusebius and Dioscorus, brothers to one another, whom they called the Tall Brothers from their stature. It is said that this Ammonius reached the summit of philosophy, bravely mastered pleasure and ease, and became so fond of learning that he went through the works of Origen and Didymus and the other church writers; and that from youth to death he tasted nothing cooked by fire except bread. Once when he was about to be seized for ordination to the episcopate, since his entreaties did not persuade those who had come for him to go away, he cut off his ear and said: “Go away; for now the priestly law does not allow me to be ordained even if I wished, since a priest must be appointed whole in body.” They withdrew; but when they learned that this was to be observed by the Jews, while the church cares nothing about the body, provided only that the priest is sound in character, they came back again to seize the man. But he swore that he would cut out his tongue if they tried to use force. Fearing the threat, they went away. From this he was called Ammonius Parotes. Not long after, in the following reign, Evagrius was associated with him, a wise man and of note, able to think and to express himself, skilled at discerning the thoughts that lead to virtue and to vice, and able to advise which to pursue and which to guard against. What he was as a writer the writings he left will show. He was said to be moderate in character, and so master of pride and arrogance that he was neither puffed up by applause when justly praised nor angered by the insults when unjustly reviled. By birth he was a citizen of Ibora near the sea called Euxine. He studied philosophy and was instructed in the sacred words by Gregory, bishop of Nazianzus; and when Gregory governed the church in Constantinople, he had him as his archdeacon. Since he was elegant in appearance and fond of fine clothing, one of the men in power, jealous because he learned that Evagrius was acquainted with his wife, was plotting his death. When the plot was about to be carried into effect, the Divine sent him in his sleep a fearful but saving vision in a dream. For he seemed to have been arrested on a charge and bound hand and foot in iron. When he was about to be brought to court to suffer punishment, someone came up to him, showed him the holy book of the Gospels, and promised to free him from his bonds if he would leave the city, and demanded an oath that he would do so. He, touching the book, swore that he would indeed do so; and being freed from his bonds he at once awoke; and persuaded by the divine dream, he escaped the danger. Resolving that he must take up the ascetic life, he left Constantinople for Jerusalem; and some time later, coming to see those who lived the philosophic life in Scetis, he was glad to stay there.

… if anyone should come to learn from one able to explain. They call this place Nitria, because there is a neighbouring village in which they collect nitre. No ordinary multitude lived the philosophic life here; there were about fifty monasteries close to one another, some of men living in community, others of men living by themselves. From here, as one goes into the inner desert, there is another place, about seventy stadia away, called the Cells. In it are many monastic dwellings scattered about, which is why it got this name. They are so far separated from one another that those who live there neither see nor hear each other. They all meet together and hold assemblies on the first and last day of the week. If anyone is not present, it is clear that he has been kept away against his will, held back by some affliction or illness; and they do not all go at once to see and care for him, but each at different times, bringing whatever he has suitable for the illness. Apart from such a reason they do not converse with one another, except for words tending to the knowledge of God or the profit of the soul. Those live in the Cells who have reached the summit of philosophy and are able to guide themselves and to live alone, separated from the others for the sake of quiet. Let this much be said briefly by us about Scetis and those who live the philosophic life there. For if I tried to go through every detail of their discipline, someone might perhaps blame my writing for its length. For having established a way of life of their own, they assigned works, manners, exercises, diet and times to each age, as was fitting. Rhinocorura too, from that time, was distinguished by good men, not brought in from outside but native. Of those I learned had lived the philosophic life there, I know as the best Melas, who at that time governed the church; Dionysius, who had his monastery to the north of the city; and Solon, the brother of Melas and his successor in the episcopate. It is said that when it had been ordered that the priests in the cities who held views opposed to Arius should be driven out, those who came for Melas found him preparing the lamps of the church, like the lowest servant, with his girdle on his tunic soiled with oil and carrying the wicks; and when asked about the bishop, he said, “He is here, and I will tell him.” At once he led the men, as tired from the journey, to the bishop’s lodging, set a table before them and entertained them from what there was. After the meal he washed his hands — for he had been serving those at table — and announced himself. They, admiring the man, confessed what they had come for, but out of respect for him gave him leave to flee. But he said, “I would not choose to avoid suffering the same as the priests who share my belief, but will willingly go into exile.” Having lived the philosophic life from youth, he practised every monastic virtue. Solon, changing from a merchant into a monk, himself gained no little benefit from this. For, carefully trained under his brother as teacher and under those who lived the philosophic life there, he was most eagerly zealous about divine things and was good to his neighbours. The church of Rhinocorura, having had such leaders from the beginning, has not ceased from that time to our own, still using their rules and bringing forth good men. The clergy there have a common dwelling and table and all else in common.

Palestine, too, flourished with the dwellings of monks. Most of those I enumerated in the reign of Constantius were still adorning this way of life; and others, through association with them, advanced to the summit of virtue and were added to the greater renown of the monasteries there. Among them were Hesychas, the companion of Hilarion, and Epiphanius, who later became bishop of Salamis in Cyprus. Hesychas lived the philosophic life where his teacher had; Epiphanius about the village of Besanduce, his home, in the district of Eleutheropolis. Trained from his youth by the best monks, and for this reason having spent a very long time in Egypt, he became most celebrated in monastic philosophy among the Egyptians and the Palestinians, and afterwards among the Cypriots too, by whom he was chosen to oversee the metropolis of the island. Hence, I think, he is the most famous, so to speak, in the whole world under the sun. For serving as priest in a populous, great and coastal city, and engaging in civic affairs with all the virtue he had, he soon became known to citizens and strangers of every kind: to some who saw him and had experience of his conduct, to others who were persuaded by them. Before his stay in Cyprus he was still living in Palestine under the present reign. At that time there were very distinguished in the monasteries Salamanes, Phuscon, Malachion and Crispion, brothers, who lived the philosophic life about Bethelia, a village of the district of Gaza; for they were of noble family there, and had Hilarion as teacher of this philosophy. It is said that once, as they were going home together, Malachion was somehow snatched from their midst and disappeared; then suddenly he reappeared, walking the same road with his brothers; and not long after he died, still young, but not behind those who had grown old in philosophy in virtue of life and love of God. Ammonius too, about ten stadia away, lived about Kapharchobra, a village of Gaza, from which he came, a man who passed his life in ascetic discipline with the greatest strictness and courage. Silvanus, who for his exceeding virtue is said to have been seen served by an angel, a Palestinian, was then, I think, still living the philosophic life in Egypt; then, after spending some time on Mount Sinai, he later founded at Gerara by the torrent a very great and celebrated community of very many good men, which after him was led by the divine Zacharias.

From here we must go on to Syria and to the Persians bordering on the Syrians, who in numbers rivalled those who lived the philosophic life in Egypt. At that time there were especially distinguished among the Nisibenes, about the mountain called Sigoron, Batthaeus, Eusebius, Barges, Halas and Abbos, Lazarus who became a bishop, Abdaleus, Zeno and Heliodorus the old. They were also called Grazers, having lately begun this kind of philosophy. They are so named because they have no dwellings, eat neither bread nor relish, nor drink wine; but living on the mountains they ever bless God in prayers and hymns according to the rule of the church; and when the time for food comes, as if pasturing, each with a sickle, they go round the mountain and feed on the plants. So they lived the philosophic life. At Carrhae there was Eusebius, who lived the philosophic life voluntarily shut in; and Protogenes, who governed the church there after Vitus, then the bishop — that famous Vitus whom, they say, the emperor Constantine, on first seeing him, confessed that God had often shown to him in appearances long before, and had told him to obey whatever he said. Aones too had his monastery at Phadana; this is the place where Jacob, the descendant of Abraham, coming from Palestine, met the virgin who was afterwards his wife, and rolling the stone from the well there, first watered her flock. They say that this Aones was the first among the Syrians to begin the strict philosophy apart from all men, as Antony among the Egyptians.

With him lived Gaddanas and Azizus, rivalling him in a like virtue. In Edessa nearby and around it the most renowned philosophers at this time were Julian and Ephraem the Syrian writer, who have been described under the reign of Constantius; and Barses and Eulogius, who both later became bishops — not of any city, but for honour, as a reward, so to speak, for their way of life — being ordained in their own monasteries, in the same way as Lazarus who has been mentioned. These are those who then lived the philosophic life with distinction among the Syrians and the neighbouring Persians who came to my knowledge. The way of life was common, one may say, to all: to care for the soul as much as possible and to accustom it to be ready for departure from here, in prayers and fasts and divine hymns, and to spend most of their life in these; and to neglect altogether money, the business of civic affairs, and the ease or care of the body. Some came to such a pitch of self-control that, through excessive fasting, worms crept from the teeth of Batthaeus; that Halas did not taste bread for eighty years; and that Heliodorus endured most nights without sleep, joining weeks of days together in fasting. Syria, both the so-called Coele and the part beyond it, except Antioch, changed over to Christianity more slowly. Yet it too was not without church philosophers; these were and appeared all the braver, inasmuch as they were hated and plotted against by the inhabitants of the country, and held out nobly, not defending themselves or taking vengeance, but readily enduring the insults and blows of the pagans. Such, I have learned, were Valentine, whom some said came from Emesa and others from Arethusa; another of the same name; and Theodore — both from Titti in the district of Apamea; and Marosas from Nechila, and Bassus, Bassones and Paul, who was from the village of Telmissus, who, having settled many in many places and brought them together in the right way to know how to live the philosophic life, finally established at the place called Jugatum a very great and celebrated community of monks. There he died and has his tomb, having lived very long, so that he survived even to our day, having lived the philosophic life with renown and in a godly way. Almost all the other monks described lived a long time too. And it seems to me that God made the men long-lived to advance religion. For they brought the Syrians almost entirely, and very many of the Persians and Saracens, to their own worship and made them cease being pagans; and having begun monastic philosophy there, they made many like themselves. I conjecture that the Galatians and Cappadocians and their neighbours also had many other church philosophers at that time, since they had long zealously upheld the doctrine. Most of them lived in communities in cities or villages; for they were neither accustomed to it by the tradition of their predecessors, nor perhaps did it seem possible to live in deserts because of the severity of the winter that regularly occurs from the nature of that country. The most renowned monks there of whom I have learned were Leontius, who later governed the church at Ancyra, and Prapidius, who when already old oversaw many villages as bishop. He also presided over the Basileias, which is a most celebrated hospice for the poor, built by Basil, the bishop of Caesarea, from whom it received its name at the beginning and still has it.

I have narrated these things about the church philosophers of that time as far as I was able to learn them. Of the pagans, on the other hand, almost all were destroyed at that time. For some who were thought to excel the others in philosophy, vexed at the growth of Christianity, resolved to learn in advance who would rule the Romans after Valens, and used every kind of divination about this. At last they made a wooden tripod of laurel and consecrated it with the invocations and words they were accustomed to use, so that by the putting together of letters, each letter being indicated by the mechanism of the tripod and the divination, the name of the future emperor would appear. As they were agape for Theodore, a man distinguished in the service of the palace, a pagan and a man of letters, the series of letters, coming as far as the delta in his name, deceived the philosophers, and they expected that Theodore would reign almost at once. When the attempt was reported, Valens, as one whose life had been plotted against, was intolerably angry. Upon this Theodore and the makers of the tripod were arrested and ordered to be put to death, some by fire, others by the sword. In the same way and for the same reason those throughout the empire who were distinguished as philosophers were destroyed. Since the emperor’s anger was unchecked, the slaughter extended even to those who were not philosophers but wore their dress; so that those who pursued other studies did not dress in saffron cloaks or short philosophers’ cloaks, from suspicion of danger and fear, lest they seem to have busied themselves with divination and magic rites. I think it right that the emperor, above all in the judgment of the sensible, should be blamed for so great anger and cruelty, and the philosophers for their rashness and their unphilosophical attempt. For he, supposing — a very foolish thing — that he would kill the one who was to reign after him, spared neither those who divined nor him about whom they divined, nor, as they say, those notable men of the time who had the same name, or one like it, beginning with theta and running as far as delta. And they were led on to this as though it lay with them to pull down an emperor and set one up again. Yet if such things are to be reckoned among what is once fixed in the motion of the stars, they should have awaited the one to come, whoever he was. And if the matter is of God’s counsel, why did they need to meddle? For surely it is not possible by foreknowledge or human effort to know what seems good to God. Nor, even if it were possible, was it right for men, though the wisest of all, to think that they could take better counsel than God. But if simply from eagerness to know the future they behaved so recklessly as to leap into ready danger and to despise the laws long established among the Romans — even at a time when it was safe to be pagan and to sacrifice — they did not think as Socrates did, who, when he could have saved himself, and that when he was about to drink the hemlock unjustly, out of respect for the laws under which he had been born and brought up, did not escape from the prison, though he was able to.

But let each consider and speak of these things as seems good to him. When the Sauromatae overran some places of the western empire, Valentinian marched against them. They, hearing of the size and equipment of the army, sent envoys asking for peace. When he saw them, he asked whether all the Sauromatae were like these. When they said that the best of them had come as envoys, he was filled with anger; and shouting loudly, he said that his subjects were suffering terrible things and that the empire of the Romans, having come round to him, was in an evil plight, if the Sauromatae, a barbarian nation, whose best were these men, were not content to live by themselves but dared to invade the territory he ruled and imagined they could make war on the Romans at all. As he raged for a long time and shouted such things, his inward parts were torn by the excessive strain; a vein and an artery burst together, and as the blood gushed out he died in a fortress in Gaul, being about fifty-four years old and having reigned thirteen years very well and with great distinction. On the sixth day after his death, his younger son of the same name was proclaimed emperor by the soldiers. Not long after, Valens and Gratian, the boy’s brother, ratified his elevation, although at first they were angry because the soldiers had invested him with the insignia of rule before they gave permission. Meanwhile Valens, living at Antioch in Syria, grew still more hostile to those who believed otherwise than he did about the divine, and harshly afflicted and banished them. Then Themistius the philosopher, addressing a speech to him, advised him that he should not be surprised at the disagreement of the church’s doctrines, which was more moderate and smaller than that among the Greeks; for the opinions among them were many times more numerous, and, as in a multitude of doctrines, the difference about them necessarily produces more quarrels and debates. For perhaps it is pleasing to God not to be easily known, and to be thought of in different ways, so that each may fear him the more, since the exact knowledge of him is incomprehensible, as each reckons how great and of what kind he is, as far as he thinks he can attain.

Made somewhat more humane by these words of Themistius, the emperor no longer inflicted punishments as harshly as before. Yet he did not altogether spare his anger against the priests, until anxieties about public affairs arose and no longer allowed him to pursue such matters. For the Goths, who had formerly lived beyond the river Ister and ruled the other barbarians, being driven out by those called Huns, crossed over into Roman territory. This nation, they say, was previously unknown to the Thracians along the Ister and to the Goths themselves. They lived near one another without knowing it, because a very great lake lay between them, and each thought that the land they inhabited was the end of the dry land, and beyond it sea and boundless water. But a heifer stung by a gadfly happened to run across the lake, and a herdsman followed; and seeing the land on the other side, he reported it to his own people. Others say that a stag, fleeing, showed some Huns who were hunting this way, which was covered on the surface by the water. They then returned, admiring the country, which had a milder climate and was suitable for farming, and reported to the ruler of the nation what they had seen. At first they made trial of the Goths with a few men; afterwards they marched against them in full force, conquered them in battle, and took possession of all their land. The Goths, pursued, crossed into Roman territory; and having crossed the river, they sent envoys to the emperor, promising to be his allies in future and asking him to let them settle where they wished. Ulfilas, the bishop of the nation, led this embassy; and when it succeeded as they wished, they were permitted to live in Thrace. Not long afterwards they quarrelled among themselves and were divided in two; the one part was led by Athanaric, the other by Fritigern. When they made war on one another, Fritigern, having fared badly in the battle, asked the Romans to help him. When the emperor ordered the soldiers in Thrace to help him and fight as his allies, he engaged again, won, and put Athanaric’s party to flight. As though returning thanks to Valens and giving assurance that he was his friend in every respect, he shared his religion, and persuaded the barbarians who obeyed him to believe the same. This, I think, is not the only reason why the whole nation is to this day attached to those who hold the views of Arius. Ulfilas too, who was then their priest, at first did not differ at all from the catholic church; but in the reign of Constantius, having, heedlessly I think, taken part in the synod at Constantinople with Eudoxius and Acacius, he continued in communion with the priests of those who had met at Nicaea. But when he came to Constantinople, it is said that the leaders of the Arian heresy discussed the doctrine with him and promised to support his embassy to the emperor if he believed as they did; and that, compelled by need, or really thinking it better to believe so about God, he communicated with the followers of Arius and cut off both himself and the whole nation from the catholic church. For the Goths, having been taught the things of piety by him as their teacher, and having through him entered on a gentler way of life, readily obeyed him in everything, persuaded that nothing said or done by him was bad, but that everything contributed to the benefit of those who followed it. Indeed he had given very great proof of his virtue, having endured countless dangers for the doctrine while these barbarians were still worshipping as pagans. He was the first inventor of letters for them and translated the sacred books into their own language. This, then, is the reason why the barbarians along the Ister for the most part hold the views of Arius. At that time a multitude of Fritigern’s people were put to death bearing witness for Christ. For Athanaric, angry that those under him too were becoming Christians at Ulfilas’s persuasion, as though the ancestral religion were being overturned, subjected many to many punishments. Some he brought to trial and, when they spoke boldly for the doctrine, killed them; others he killed without even giving them a hearing. For it is said that those ordered by Athanaric to do this carried an image standing on a wagon round to each tent of those reported to be Christians, and ordered them to worship it and sacrifice; and when they refused, they burned the tents with the people in them. I have learned that another still more pitiable thing happened then. Many, men and women, worn out by the violence of those compelling them to sacrifice — some of the women leading little children, others nursing newborn babes at the breast — fled to the tent of the church there. The pagans set it on fire, and all perished. Not long after the Goths made peace with one another; and, carried away into madness, they did harm to the Thracians and ravaged their cities and villages. When Valens learned this, he discovered by experience how greatly he had erred. For thinking that the Goths would be useful to himself and his subjects and fearsome to his enemies, as always under arms, he had neglected the Roman legions, and instead of those usually levied for military service from the cities and villages under the Romans, gold was exacted. Disappointed in his hope, he left Antioch and came in haste to Constantinople. Then the persecution against Christians who believed otherwise than he had a respite. When Euzoius died, Theodore was put forward into his office and led those who held the views of Arius.

About this same time, when the king of the Saracens died, the treaty with the Romans was broken. Mavia his wife, governing the nation, ravaged the cities of the Phoenicians and Palestinians as far as the Egyptians who live on the left as one sails up the Nile, in the region called Arabia. This war was not to be thought easy, as being waged by a woman; for they say that this battle was fierce and hard for the Romans to win, so that the commander of the soldiers in Phoenicia called to his help the general of all the cavalry and infantry of the East. He laughed at the summons and ordered the one who had called him to keep out of the fight; but drawing up his army against Mavia, who commanded against him, he was routed and barely saved by the commander of the Palestinian and Phoenician soldiers. For when that commander saw him in danger, he thought it foolish to stay out of the battle according to his order; and running up he met the barbarians, gave the general the chance of a safer flight, and himself, withdrawing gradually, shot arrows as he fled and drove back the enemy pressing on him with his arrows. Many who live in those parts still remember these things, and among the Saracens they are in songs. As the war weighed heavily, it seemed necessary to send envoys to Mavia about peace. She, the story goes, flatly refused the treaty with the Romans to those who came as envoys about it, unless a certain Moses, who then lived the philosophic life in the desert nearby, were ordained bishop for those under her rule — a man distinguished for the virtue of his life and for divine and marvellous signs. The commanders of the soldiers who reported this, being permitted by the emperor, seized Moses and brought him to Lucius. He, in the presence of the officials and of the assembled crowd, said: “Stop; for I am not able worthily to bear the name and honour of a high priest. But if God indeed should approve this for me, unworthy as I am, I call to witness the creator of heaven and earth that you will not lay on me your hands, stained with the blood and gore of holy men.” Lucius answered: “If you are still ignorant of my faith, you are not acting justly in turning from me before you learn it. If you have been told slanders, come now, hear from me, and be a judge of what I say.” “But to me,” said Moses, “your faith appears very clear; and of what kind it is, bishops, presbyters and deacons bear witness, suffering in exiles beyond the frontier and in the mines. Do you then hold these as tokens of belief about God, which are wholly foreign to Christ and to those who think rightly about God?” When he swore, saying such things, that he would not receive the priesthood if Lucius ordained him, the Roman officials, excusing Lucius, brought Moses to the bishops who were in exile. Ordained by them, he went to the Saracens; and having reconciled them to the Romans, he lived there as their priest and brought many to become Christians, having found very few who shared in the doctrine. For this tribe took its origin from Ishmael, the son of Abraham, and had its name from him, and the ancients called them Ishmaelites after their forefather. But, rubbing off the reproach of bastardy and the low birth of Hagar, Ishmael’s mother, for she was a slave, they named themselves Saracens, as being descended from Sarah, the wife of Abraham. … deriving their race, they all, like the Hebrews, are circumcised, abstain from pork, and keep many other of their customs. That they do not live entirely as the Hebrews do must be ascribed to time, or to their intermingling with the surrounding nations. For Moses, who lived many ages later, gave laws only to those who came out of Egypt. And those living near them, being exceedingly superstitious, naturally corrupted the ancestral way of life of Ishmael, which alone the ancient Hebrews followed before the legislation of Moses, using unwritten customs. Indeed, they worshipped the same demons as their neighbours, and by honouring and naming them in the same way, they showed in the likeness of their religion to their neighbours the cause of the corruption of their ancestral laws. As tends to happen, the long time that passed consigned some things to oblivion and made other things venerable among them. Afterwards some of them, associating with Jews, learned from whom they were descended, returned to their kin, and adopted the Hebrew customs and laws; and from that time many among them still live in Jewish fashion. Not long before the present reign they also began to become Christians. They came to share in the faith in Christ through association with the priests and monks living near them, who practised the philosophic life in the neighbouring deserts, living well and working wonders. It is said that at that time a whole tribe also changed over to Christianity, when Zocomus, its phylarch, was baptized for the following reason. Being childless, he came to a certain monk, drawn by his fame, to meet him, and lamented his misfortune; for having children is of great importance to the Saracens, and, I think, to all barbarians. The monk bade him take courage, prayed, and sent him away, promising that he would have a son if he believed in Christ. When God confirmed the promise by the deed and a son was born to him, Zocomus himself was initiated and brought those under him to the same. And from that time, they say, this tribe became prosperous and populous, and formidable to the Persians and the other Saracens. Such is the way the Saracens first changed over to Christianity, and what we have received about the first who was bishop among them.

Those in the cities who were zealous for the doctrine of the synod at Nicaea took courage again, especially the Alexandrians in Egypt. When Peter returned then from Rome with letters of Damasus confirming the decisions of Nicaea and his own ordination, they handed the churches over to him; and Lucius, driven out, sailed away to Constantinople. The emperor Valens, being, as was natural, full of cares, had no leisure to deal with them. For as soon as he came to Constantinople he was under much suspicion and hatred among the people. For the barbarians, having ravaged Thrace and advanced already as far as the suburbs, were attempting to attack the very walls, no one preventing them. The city took this badly; they blamed the emperor because he did not go out against them but put off the fighting, and they put about the story that he himself was bringing in the enemy. At last, watching a horse race, they openly cried out against him for neglecting the common affairs, and demanded arms, saying they would fight themselves. Valens, insulted, marched against the barbarians; and he threatened, if he returned, to punish them both for the insults of the people and because they had earlier joined the usurper Procopius.

As he was going out of Constantinople, Isaac, a monk, a good man in every way and despising dangers for the sake of the divine, came up to him and said: “Give back, O emperor, to those who believe rightly and keep the tradition of those who met at Nicaea the churches that were taken from them, and you will win the war.” The emperor, angered, ordered him to be arrested and kept in chains until he should return and exact the penalty for his daring. He answered: “But you will not return, if you do not give back the churches.” And so it turned out. For when he went out with the army, the Goths retreated before his pursuit. He, going on, having already passed through Thrace, came to Adrianople. Coming close to the barbarians, who were encamped in a safe place, he engaged them sooner than he should, without first arranging how and where the army must be drawn up. When his cavalry was scattered and the infantry routed, pursued by the enemy, he dismounted in his flight and slipped unnoticed into a small house or tower, with a few following him. The barbarians ran after him to seize him, and rushing onward ran past; for they did not suspect that he was hiding there. But some of those with him, when most of the barbarians had already passed the place and only a few were behind, shot arrows from the roof at those passing by. At this they cried out, “Valens is here.” Those nearby who heard it passed on with a shout what they heard to those in front and behind, so that in a short time even the enemy further off heard, and quickly all came together to him. Surrounding the house and gathering a great deal of wood around it, they set it on fire; and at once the flame, driven by a wind that happened to be blowing, went through the wood. At the same time the things stored in the house caught fire and burned up the emperor himself and those with him. He died at about fifty years of age, having reigned thirteen years with his brother and three after him.

So it befell Valens to die. The barbarians, elated by their victory, ravaged all Thrace, and finally overran the suburbs of Constantinople. At that critical time great help was given by a few of the allied Saracens sent by Mavia, and very much by the people. For Domnica, the wife of Valens, supplied them with a fixed pay from the public treasury, and armed as each happened to be, they went out against the enemy, beat them off and drove them far from the city. Gratian, now governing the whole Roman empire together with his brother, not approving of his uncle’s attitude, which he had kept to the end toward those who believed otherwise than he did, granted return to all who had been condemned to exile for religion, and made a law that all should worship freely as they wished and hold assemblies, except the Manichees and those who held the views of Photinus and Eunomius.

Reckoning that, while the barbarians along the Ister were troubling the Illyrians and Thracians, it was necessary to defend those regions, and necessary also to be present with his subjects in the West, especially as the Alamanni were harming the Gauls there, he made Theodosius his partner in the empire at Sirmium — a man of the Iberian race near the Pyrenees mountains, of noble family, who had often distinguished himself in wars, so that even before he reigned he seemed to his subjects fit to rule. At this time, except at Jerusalem, those who held the views of Arius still held the churches of the East. The Macedonians, especially those in Constantinople, after their agreements with Liberius, did not differ greatly from those who approved the doctrine of those who met at Nicaea, but mingled with them in the cities as with people of the same belief and communicated with one another. But after the law issued by Gratian, gaining freedom, some of the bishops of this heresy took possession of the churches of which they had been deprived under Valens. Meeting at Antioch in Caria, they decreed that the Son ought not to be called of the same essence with the Father, but of like essence, as before. From this some, separating, held assemblies by themselves; while others, condemning the contrariness and contentiousness of those who had decreed this, withdrew from them and agreed more firmly with those who worship according to the doctrine of the synod at Nicaea. Of the bishops who returned at that time, according to Gratian’s law, from the exile that had befallen them in the reign of Valens, some took no thought for the first place, but, preferring the concord of the peoples, begged those of the Arian heresy not to forsake them, nor to cut the church by dissension — the church which, handed down as one by God and the apostles, contentiousness and love of precedence had divided into many. Of this zeal was Eulalius, bishop of Amasea in Pontus. It is said that after his return he found one of Arius’s bishops presiding over his church, and that those who obeyed him in the city were not even fifty in all; and, providing for the union of all, he begged him to take the first place and govern the church jointly, holding the precedence as a reward for concord. But he would not be persuaded; and not long after he was not to lead even the few he had, since they joined the others.

At that time, when Meletius too returned to Antioch in Syria under this law, a serious contention arose among the people. For since Paulinus was still alive — whose piety, as we have learned, the emperor Valens respected and did not dare to condemn him to exile — some thought it right that Meletius should become his colleague on the throne. When Paulinus’s supporters objected and slandered Meletius’s ordination as having been performed by Arian bishops, Meletius’s admirers carried out their purpose by force. For no ordinary crowd set him on the episcopal throne in one of the churches before the city. As the people on each side were angry and a riot was expected, a wonderful counsel prevailed that brought them to concord. For it was agreed that those thought fit to oversee the throne there — and besides Flavian there were five others expected — should take an oath that they would neither seek it nor, if ordination were offered them, consent to be bishop as long as Paulinus or Meletius was alive; and that when one of the two died, the other alone should have the episcopate. When the oaths had been given on these terms, almost the whole multitude was of one mind; but a few of Lucifer’s followers still dissented, on the ground that Meletius had been ordained by those of another belief. When this had been done, Meletius came to Constantinople; and there he and the other bishops gathered there decided that it was necessary to transfer Gregory from Nazianzus and entrust to him the episcopate there.

About this time Gratian, since the western Gauls were troubled by the Alamanni, returned to his father’s portion, which he had left for himself and his brother to govern, entrusting Illyricum and the eastern parts of the empire to Theodosius. His affairs against these went as he wished, and those of Theodosius against the barbarians along the Ister. When he had defeated some in battle, and accepted a treaty with others who asked to be friends of the Romans, taking hostages, he came to Thessalonica. Falling ill there, he was initiated, Ascholius the bishop there performing the rite, and grew better. For being a Christian from his forefathers according to the doctrine of the synod at Nicaea, he was then glad that Ascholius believed so, and that he was in deeds good and, in short, equipped, so to speak, with every priestly virtue; he was glad too that all the Illyrians had no part in the belief of Arius. Inquiring about the other provinces, he learned that as far as the Macedonians the churches were of one mind and all equally worshipped the God Word and the Holy Spirit with the Father; but that from there eastward they were in faction, so that the peoples were divided into different heresies, especially in Constantinople. Reckoning it better to proclaim to his subjects the belief he held about the divine, so as not to seem to use force by suddenly ordering them to worship against their will, he addressed a law from Thessalonica to the people of Constantinople; for he saw that from there, as from a citadel of the whole empire, the document would quickly become known to the other cities too. In it he made known that he wished all his subjects to worship as Peter, the chief of the apostles, had handed down to the Romans from the beginning, and as Damasus the bishop of Rome and Peter of Alexandria then kept it; that only those who worship the divine Trinity as equal in honour should be called the catholic church; and that those who believed otherwise should be called heretics, be held infamous, and expect punishment.

Having made this law, he came not long after to Constantinople. Those who held the views of Arius still held the churches, led by Demophilus; while Gregory of Nazianzus presided over those who held the Trinity to be of the same essence. He held assemblies in a small house, made into a house of prayer by those of the same belief for him and those who worshipped as he did. Afterwards this became, and still is, one of the most famous churches in the city, not only for the beauty and size of its buildings but also for the benefits of manifest divine appearances. For a divine power appearing here, both waking and in dreams, has often helped many suffering from diseases and reversals of fortune. It is believed that this is Mary, the holy virgin, the mother of God; for she appears in this way. They call this church Anastasia; as I supposed, because the doctrine of the synod at Nicaea, which had already fallen in Constantinople and was, so to speak, dead through the power of those of other belief, rose up here and came to life again through Gregory’s discourses. But as I have heard from some who maintain that it is true, while the people were assembled, a pregnant woman fell from the upper gallery and died there; but when all had made a common prayer over her, she came to life again and was saved together with her baby. Because of this marvel that happened from God, the place has had this name from that time. Such is the account that still circulates about it. The emperor sent to Demophilus and ordered him to worship according to the doctrine of the synod at Nicaea and to bring the people to concord, or to withdraw from the churches. He called the people together, made known the emperor’s will, and announced that the next day they would assemble before the walls. “For,” he said, “a divine law commands: ‘If they persecute you from this city, flee to the other.’” Having said this, from then on he held his assemblies before the city; and with him Lucius too, who had formerly been entrusted with the church of the Alexandrians by those of Arius’s party; for having been driven out, as was said, he had come to Constantinople as an exile and was living there. When Demophilus’s party had left the church, the emperor entered and prayed; and from that time those who uphold a Trinity of the same essence held the houses of prayer. This was the year in which Gratian was consul for the fifth time and Theodosius for the first, the fortieth since those of the Arian heresy had held the churches.

But these, still being a multitude and assembling more fearlessly because of the favour of Constantius and Valens, debated publicly about God and his essence; and they persuaded those of the same mind as themselves in the palace to sound out the emperor. For they thought they would succeed in the attempt, considering what had happened under Constantius. This very thing caused anxiety and fear to those of the catholic church; and they were especially alarmed reckoning with Eunomius’s skill in debate. For not long before, in the reign of Valens, having had a dispute at Cyzicus with his clergy, he cut himself off from Arius’s party and lived by himself in Bithynia, across from Constantinople; and a multitude crossed over to him, and others came from elsewhere, some to test him and others to hear what he said. Report of these things reached the emperor too, and he was ready to meet him; but the empress Placilla prevented it, earnestly entreating him. For, being a most faithful guardian of the doctrine of the synod at Nicaea, she feared lest her husband, as was likely, be won over in debate and change to Eunomius’s belief. While zeal on both sides about these things was at its height, it is said that the bishops staying in Constantinople came to the palace, as is customary, to greet the ruler, and that there was with them an old man, a priest of an obscure city, simple and inexperienced in affairs but wise in divine things. The others greeted the emperor bareheaded and very reverently, and the old priest addressed him likewise. But to the emperor’s son, who was seated with his father, he did not give equal honour; but coming up to him as to a child he said, “Greetings, my child,” patting him with his finger. The emperor, moved to anger and indignant on behalf of his son as insulted, because he had not been thought worthy of the same honour, ordered the old man to be thrown out insultingly. As he was being pushed out, he turned and said: “Think thus, O emperor, that the heavenly Father too is angry with those who do not honour the Son equally and dare to call him less than the one who begot him.” The emperor, struck with admiration at what had been said, called the priest back, asked his pardon, and agreed that he had spoken truly. And being made more steadfast, he would not admit those who believed otherwise; he forbade disputes and gatherings in the market place, and made it dangerous to debate in the same way about the essence and nature of God, making a law about it and fixing a punishment.

He quickly called together a synod of bishops of his own belief, for the confirmation of the decisions of Nicaea and for the ordination of the one who was to oversee the throne of Constantinople. Supposing that he could join the so-called Macedonians to the catholic church, as differing in nothing great in the inquiry about doctrine, he called them too. There met, of those who held the Trinity of the same essence, about a hundred and fifty; and of the heresy of Macedonius thirty-six, most of whom were from the cities about the Hellespont. These were led by Eleusius of Cyzicus and Marcian of Lampsacus; the others by Timothy, who governed the throne of the Alexandrians, having succeeded his brother Peter, who had died not long before; and Meletius, bishop of Antioch, who had already come to Constantinople earlier for the installation of Gregory; and Cyril of Jerusalem, who had then repented of his former holding of Macedonius’s views. With these were Ascholius of Thessalonica, Diodore of Tarsus and Acacius of Beroea. All of them, being supporters of the document confirmed at Nicaea, begged Eleusius’s party to become of one mind with them, reminding them of their embassy to Liberius and what they had confessed through Eustathius, Silvanus and Theophilus, as has been told. But they, saying openly that they would never hold the Son to be of the same essence with the Father, even if this contradicted their confessions to Liberius, went away, and wrote to those of their belief in the cities not to agree to the decisions of Nicaea. Those who remained in Constantinople deliberated to whom the see there should be entrusted. For it is said that the emperor, admiring Gregory’s life and eloquence, voted him worthy of this episcopate, and most of the synod agreed out of respect for his virtue; that he at first chose to preside over the church of Constantinople, but perceiving that some would object, especially those from Egypt, he declined. And this most wise man seems to me worthy of admiration in every respect, but not least in this. For he was neither filled with pride by his eloquence, nor led by vainglory to desire to lead the church which he had received when it was in danger of no longer existing. When the bishops asked for it back, he returned the trust, not complaining of his many labours or of the dangers he had undergone wrestling with the heresies. And yet there was nothing to hinder him from remaining bishop of Constantinople, since another bishop had already been ordained for Nazianzus. Nevertheless the synod, keeping the ancestral laws and the church’s order, took back from him, willing as he was, what it had given, paying no regard to the man’s distinctions. Since the emperor and the priests regarded the decision as a matter of the greatest importance, and the ruler urged them to make an exact examination so that the most excellent man might be found to whom the high priesthood of the greatest and imperial city should be entrusted, the synod was not of one mind; each party thought it right to ordain one of their own friends.

At this time a certain Nectarius of Tarsus in Cilicia, of the most illustrious order of the senate, was staying in Constantinople. Being already prepared to go home, he came to Diodore, the bishop of Tarsus, to carry letters if he wished to write. Diodore happened then to be considering by himself whom he should put forward for the ordination in question. Seeing Nectarius, he thought him worthy of the episcopate; for at once there came to his mind the man’s grey hair, his priestly appearance, and the gentleness of his manners. And taking him, as if on some other business, to the bishop of Antioch, he praised him and asked him to support him. The bishop, since it was a matter of serious concern and many most distinguished men were candidates, laughed at Diodore’s vote. Yet he called Nectarius to himself and told him to wait a short time. Not long after, when the emperor ordered the priests to write on a paper the names of those each judged worthy of the ordination, reserving to himself the choice of one out of all, they wrote down different men. The head of the church of the Antiochenes wrote those he wished, and last of all added Nectarius, as a favour to Diodore. When the emperor read the list of those written down, he stopped at Nectarius; and becoming thoughtful, he deliberated with himself at leisure, putting his finger on the last name; then running back to the beginning, he went through all of them again, and chose Nectarius. Everyone was astonished, and they asked who this Nectarius was, what his pursuits, and where he came from. Learning that the man had not even received the mysteries, they marvelled still more at the strangeness of the emperor’s judgment. Diodore, I think, did not know this; for had he known, he would not have dared to give his vote for the priesthood to one still uninitiated; but, as was natural, he supposed that a grey-haired man had long been initiated. It did not happen without God. For the emperor, learning that he was uninitiated, remained of the same opinion, though many priests opposed him. When all had yielded and agreed to the ruler’s vote, he was initiated; and while still wearing the white garment of initiation, he was proclaimed bishop of Constantinople by the common vote of the synod. Many believe that this happened so because God gave an oracle to the emperor; I do not know exactly whether this is true or not. But I am persuaded that what happened was not accomplished without divine influence, when I look at the strangeness of the ordination and consider what followed, how God brought to this priesthood a most gentle and good and noble man. Such were the events of Nectarius’s ordination, as I have learned.

After this Nectarius himself and the other priests met and decreed that the faith of the synod at Nicaea should remain in force and every heresy be condemned; that the churches everywhere should be governed according to the ancient canons; that the bishops should remain in their own churches and not rashly invade those beyond their bounds, nor thrust themselves into ordinations they were not invited to and that did not concern them, as had often happened before when the church happened to be persecuted; that what happened in each province should be managed and dealt with by the synod of the province, as might seem best; and that after the bishop of Rome the bishop of Constantinople should have the precedence, as governing the throne of new Rome. For the city already not only had this name and had likewise a senate, orders of the people and magistrates, but contracts were judged according to the laws of the Romans in Italy, and the rights and privileges in everything were made equal for each. They decreed that Maximus neither had become nor was a bishop, nor were those ordained by him clerics, and that what had been done for him or by him was void. For this man, an Alexandrian by birth and a … philosopher by profession, zealous for the doctrine of the synod, had been made bishop of Constantinople by those who had come at that time from Egypt, who stole the ordination. Such were the synod’s decisions. The emperor ratified them and made a law that the faith of those who met at Nicaea should be in force, and that the churches everywhere should be handed over to those who confess one and the same Godhead of Father, Son and Holy Spirit in the hypostasis of three persons equal in honour and in power; and that these were those in communion with Nectarius in Constantinople; in Egypt with Timothy the bishop of Alexandria; in the churches of the East with Diodore of Tarsus and Pelagius the bishop of Laodicea in Syria; among the Asians with Amphilochius, who presided over the church at Iconium; in the cities along the Pontus, from the Bithynians to the Armenians, with Helladius, bishop of the church of Caesarea in Cappadocia, Gregory of Nyssa and Otreius of Melitene; and in the cities of Thrace and Scythia with Terentius of Tomi and Martyrius of Marcianopolis. For the emperor himself had praised these, having seen them and met with them, and a good reputation prevailed about them as leading the churches piously. When this had been done and the synod had ended, the others returned each to his home.

Nectarius learned the priestly order under Cyriacus, bishop of Adana, as his teacher. For he asked Diodore, the bishop of Tarsus, to let Cyriacus stay with him for some time; and he invited many other Cilicians to be with him, among them Martyrius, whom he had as his own physician and who knew of the sins of his youth, and whom he planned to ordain deacon. But Martyrius would not consent, maintaining that he was unworthy of the divine ministry and calling Nectarius himself to witness to his way of life. Nectarius said: “Was not I, who am now a priest, much more careless than you in my former life, as you yourself bear witness, having often ministered to my many excesses?” He answered: “But you, blessed one, having lately been baptized, have been cleansed and for this have been thought worthy of the priesthood; for the Divine has ordained both as purifications of sins. And you seem to me no different from newborn babes. But I, having long ago received divine baptism, have continued to live the same life.” Saying this, he did not accept ordination. I praise the man for his refusal, and for this reason have made him part of this history. The emperor, learning what had happened to Paul, who had been bishop of Constantinople, brought his body back and buried it in the church which Macedonius, who had plotted against him, had built; and this temple, being very large and most celebrated, is still named after him. This leads many who do not know the truth, especially women and most of the common people, to suppose that Paul the apostle lies there. About this time the remains of Meletius too were brought to Antioch and buried beside the tomb of the martyr Babylas. It is said that by the emperor’s order, along the whole highway, they were received within the walls into the cities, contrary to Roman custom, and honoured in turn with psalm-singing in each place, until they were brought to Antioch.

In his place Flavian was ordained, contrary to the oaths that had been given; for Paulinus was still alive. From this the greatest turmoil again took hold of the church of the Antiochenes; very many separated themselves from communion with Flavian and held assemblies apart under Paulinus. The priests themselves disagreed with one another on this account. The Egyptians, the Arabians and the Cypriots were indignant, as at a wrong done to Paulinus; but the Syrians, the Palestinians and the Phoenicians, and most of the Armenians, Cappadocians, Galatians and those along the Pontus, took Flavian’s side. Not least, the bishop of the Romans and all the priests of the West were angry. They wrote the usual letters, which they call synodal, to Paulinus as bishop of Antioch, but kept silence toward Flavian; and they blamed Diodore of Tarsus and Acacius of Beroea, who had ordained him, and held them out of communion. To decide these matters, they and the emperor Gratian wrote summoning the bishops of the East to the West.

At this time, as those of the catholic church took possession of the houses of prayer, very many disturbances took place in many parts of the empire, those of the Arian heresy resisting. The emperor Theodosius, after a short interval from the former synod, again called together the leaders of the heresies then flourishing, either to be persuaded or to persuade about what they disagreed on. For he supposed that he would make all of one belief if he set before them a common debate about the disputed points of doctrine. When they had met — this was the year in which Merobaudes for the second time and Saturninus were consuls, when he proclaimed his son Arcadius co-emperor — he summoned Nectarius, conferred with him about the coming synod, and ordered him to bring the questions that produce the heresies to debate, so that there might be one church of those who believe in Christ and a harmonious doctrine by which to worship. Nectarius, anxious by himself, made the emperor’s mind known to Agelius, head of the church of the Novatians, as one of the same mind about the faith. Agelius, who bore the virtue of his life in his deeds but was unpractised in the subtlety and complexity of arguments, put forward in his place, to see what was to be done and to debate if necessary, a man among his readers at that time named Sisinnius, who was afterwards entrusted with the same episcopate — a man able to think and to express himself, knowing exactly the interpretations of the sacred books, and widely learned in the history of those who had lived the philosophic life among the Greeks and in the church. He, seeming then to speak best, advised that they avoid debates with those of other belief, as causes of strife and battle, but ask them whether they accepted those who had been guides and teachers of the sacred words before the division of the church. “For if they reject their testimonies,” he said, “they will be driven out by their own people; but if they think them adequate for the proof of the disputed points, their books must be produced.” For he knew well that the ancients, finding the Son coeternal with the Father, did not dare to say that he had his generation from some beginning. When Nectarius too thought this good, and the emperor on learning it praised the counsel, he sounded out those of the other heresies as to their mind concerning the interpretations of the older writers. When they professed great admiration for them, he openly asked whether they would end their inquiries on the basis of what those had said and thought them trustworthy witnesses of doctrine. When disagreement arose about this too among the leaders of the heresies — for each did not think the same about the books of the older writers — the emperor understood that they declined the proposal, trusting only in debates of their own arguments. Blaming them for their attitude, he ordered each heresy to give him a written statement of its own doctrine. When the day came that had been fixed for doing this, they met at the palace: for those who held the Trinity of the same essence, Nectarius and Agelius; for the Arian heresy, Demophilus, its head; for that of Eunomius, Eunomius himself; and Eleusius, bishop of Cyzicus, for the so-called Macedonians. Receiving each one’s document, he praised only that which taught the Trinity of the same essence, and tore up the others as contrary. From this nothing turned out against the wishes of the Novatians, for they believe the same about God as the catholic church. But the others were angry with their priests for having opposed them ignorantly before the ruler; and many, condemning them, went over to the approved doctrine. The emperor, making laws, ordered those of other belief neither to hold assemblies nor to teach about the faith nor to ordain bishops or others; some were to be driven from cities and fields, others to be infamous and not to share in civic rights like the rest; and he wrote severe penalties into the laws. But he did not carry them out; for he was eager not to punish but to frighten his subjects, so that they might be of one mind with him about the divine; since he praised those who changed of their own accord.

About this time, while Gratian was occupied with the war against the Alamanni, Maximus rose up from Britain and tried to bring the empire of the Romans under himself. Valentinian, still young, was then living in Italy; the administration of affairs there had been entrusted to Probus, a man of consular rank, as prefect. Then Justina, the emperor’s mother, who held the views of Arius, gave trouble to Ambrose, bishop of Milan, and disturbed the churches, attempting to innovate against the decisions of Nicaea and setting great store on the faith of those who met at Ariminum prevailing. When Ambrose strove to the contrary, she, angry, slandered him to her son as having insulted her. Valentinian, supposing the slanders true, as avenging his mother, sent a body of soldiers against the church. They attacked the temple, forced their way inside the doors, and dragged Ambrose off at once to take him into exile. But the multitude of the church, pouring round him, resisted the soldiers, and resolved to die rather than abandon the priest. At this Justina was inflamed to greater anger and planned to strengthen her attempt by law. Summoning Menivolus, who was then in charge of the secretaries of the laws, she ordered him to issue as quickly as possible a law for the confirmation of the faith read at Ariminum. When he quietly declined the task — for he was of the catholic church — she urged him, enticing him with promises of greater honour. But she did not persuade him; Menivolus took off his belt and threw it at the empress’s feet, saying that he would claim neither his present rank nor a greater one at the price of impiety. Since he stood firm never to do this, others served in issuing such a law. It ordered that those who believed as those who had met at Ariminum, and afterwards at Constantinople, should assemble without fear; and that those who hindered this, or petitioned against the emperor’s law, should be punished with death. While the emperor’s mother was eager about this and pressing to carry the law into effect, it was announced that Gratian had been killed by the treachery of Andragathius, Maximus’s general. For he had hidden himself in an imperial carriage and ordered the officers to announce that it was the emperor’s wife. Gratian, rashly crossing the river there, being lately married, young, and in love with his wife, in his eagerness to see her, foreseeing nothing, fell into Andragathius’s hands; and being seized, he was killed not long after, being about twenty-four years old and having reigned fifteen. At so great a calamity Justina ceased from her anger against Ambrose. Meanwhile Maximus, gathering a very great army of Britons and of the neighbouring Gauls and Celts and the nations there, marched on Italy, on the pretext that he would not tolerate any innovation in the ancestral faith and the order of the church, but in truth clearing himself of the reputation of a usurper; and looking to the empire, he was contriving, if he could, to seem to gain the rule of the Romans by law and not by force. Valentinian, compelled by the circumstances, acknowledged the insignia of his rule. But fearing lest he suffer harm, he fled from Italy and came to Thessalonica, and with him his mother and Probus the prefect.

Meanwhile, as Theodosius was preparing for the war against Maximus, a son, Honorius, was born to him. When his army was ready, he left his son Arcadius ruling in Constantinople and joined Valentinian at Thessalonica. The envoys sent by Maximus he neither openly sent away nor received; but taking his soldiers he advanced into Italy. About this time Agelius, bishop of the Novatians in Constantinople, being about to die, designated in his place Sisinnius, a presbyter of those under him. When the people complained that he had not chosen Marcian, renowned for piety, he, seeming to grow better, ordained Marcian, and addressed the people in the church: “After me you have Marcian; after him, Sisinnius.” Having said this he died not long after, having presided over his own heresy with distinction for forty years. Some maintain that this man was also a confessor in pagan times. Not long after, when Timothy and Cyril had departed this life, Theophilus succeeded to the throne of the Alexandrians and John to that of Jerusalem. In Constantinople Demophilus, the leader of the Arian heresy, also died; a certain Marinus, summoned from Thrace, was entrusted with his succession, but Dorotheus, coming from Antioch in Syria as more suitable, presided over the heresy. Meanwhile, when Theodosius had arrived in Italy, rumours about the war prevailed according to each one’s wish; and among the Arians it was said that many had fallen in the battle and the emperor had come under the usurper. And, as though what they invented had already happened, they took courage; and running together they set fire to the house of Nectarius the bishop, angry because he held the churches. But the war turned out as the emperor wished. For Maximus’s soldiers, either from fear of the force prepared against them or by treachery, seized the usurper and killed him. Andragathius, who had killed Gratian, when he learned this, leapt into a river flowing by, arms and all, and perished. The war having been ended in this way, having fittingly avenged Gratian, he came to Rome and celebrated a triumphal procession with Valentinian, and set the affairs of the church in Italy in good order. For Justina too had happened to die,

At that time, when Paulinus died at Antioch, those who held assemblies under him remained apart, turning away from Flavian as one who had broken the oaths given in the time of Meletius, though they differed in nothing concerning doctrine. Evagrius was appointed their bishop; and when he had lived only a short time, no one else filled this succession, since Flavian worked against it. Those who refused communion with him held assemblies by themselves. About this time the bishop of the Alexandrians was converting the temple of Dionysus there into a church; for he had asked for it and received it as a gift from the emperor. When the images there were being removed and the inner shrines uncovered, deliberately seeking to insult the pagan mysteries, he paraded these things: the phalluses, and whatever else hidden in the shrines was or seemed ridiculous, he brought out publicly for display. The pagans, astounded at the truth and at the unexpectedness of what had happened, would not keep quiet; having made preparations among themselves, they fell upon the Christians. Killing some and wounding others, they seized the Serapeum. This was a temple most conspicuous for its beauty and size, lying on a hill. Coming suddenly from there as from a citadel, they seized many of the Christians and, torturing them, tried to force them to sacrifice. Those who refused they crucified, or broke their legs, or killed in other ways. When the riot had prevailed for a long time, the magistrates came to them, reminded them of the laws, and urged them to cease from war and to leave the Serapeum. At that time Romanus commanded the military units in Egypt, and Evagrius governed Alexandria as prefect. When they accomplished nothing, they reported what had happened to the emperor. Those in the Serapeum were made more determined by their consciousness of what they had dared; and also by a certain Olympius, who was with them in a philosopher’s dress and persuaded them that they must not neglect their ancestral rites, but, if need be, die for them. And when he saw them disheartened as the images were being destroyed, he advised them not to abandon their religion, saying that the statues were perishable matter and images, and therefore underwent destruction; but that certain powers had dwelt in them and had flown away to heaven. Teaching such things and having a crowd of pagans about him, he stayed in the Serapeum. When what had happened was reported, the emperor called the Christians who had been killed blessed, as having shared in the honours of martyrdom by facing danger for the doctrine; but he ordered that those who had killed them should be pardoned, so that, respecting the kindness, they might most easily change over to Christianity; and that the temples in Alexandria should be destroyed, as having been the cause of the people’s riot. It is said that when the emperor’s letter about these things was read publicly, the Christians shouted loudly, because right from the opening it blamed the pagans. Upon this those guarding the Serapeum fell into fear and turned to flight; and the Christians, seizing the place, held it from then on. Olympius, as I have learned, a little before, at an untimely hour of the night preceding the day on which this happened, heard someone in the Serapeum singing “Alleluia.” Since the doors were shut and all was quiet, and he saw no one but heard only a voice singing the same psalm, he understood the sign; and escaping everyone’s notice, he left the Serapeum, found a ship and sailed to Italy. They say that when this temple was being demolished, some of the characters called hieroglyphic, resembling the sign of the cross, appeared engraved on the stones; and that those skilled in such things interpreted this writing to signify “life to come.” This became an occasion of Christianity for many of the pagans, because other writings declared that this temple would come to an end when this character appeared. So the Serapeum was taken, and not long after was converted into a church named after the emperor Arcadius. In some cities, however, the pagans still fought zealously for the temples: among the Arabians the people of Petra and Areopolis; among the Palestinians those of Raphia and Gaza; among the Phoenicians the inhabitants of Heliopolis; and among the Syrians especially those of the temple of Apamea on the river Axius. I have learned that for the guarding of their temples they often used the help of men from Galilee and of the villages about Lebanon; and at last they went so far in daring as to kill Marcellus, the bishop there. For he, reckoning that there was no other easy way for them to be turned from their former religion, overthrew the temples in the city and the villages. Learning that there was a very large temple at Aulon, a district of the territory of Apamea, he took some soldiers and gladiators and went against it. When he came near, he waited out of range of missiles; for he had gout and could neither fight nor pursue nor flee. While the soldiers and gladiators were busy taking the temple, some of the pagans, learning that he was alone, came out where the place was free of fighting, suddenly fell upon him, seized him, threw him on a pyre and killed him. For the present they escaped notice. But when in time they were discovered, Marcellus’s sons were eager to avenge their father; but the synod of the province prevented it, thinking it not right to take vengeance for such a death, for which the one who died so, and his family and friends, ought rather to give thanks, as one thought worthy to die for God. So these things happened.

At this time Nectarius, who governed the church of Constantinople, was the first to stop having a presbyter appointed over the penitents; and almost all the bishops everywhere followed. What this is, or whence it began, or for what reason it ceased, others perhaps tell otherwise; I will relate it as I think. Since never to sin at all requires a nature more divine than human, and God commanded that pardon be given to those who repent, even if they sin often; and since in asking pardon one must confess the sin, it seemed burdensome to the priests from the beginning, as was natural, that sins should be announced as in a theatre, with the multitude of the church as witness. So they appointed for this a presbyter of the best conduct, discreet and prudent. Sinners came to him and confessed what they had done; and he, setting for each one’s sin the penance to be done or paid, released them, to exact the penalty from themselves. For the Novatians, for whom there is no question of repentance, there was no need of this; but among the other heresies it still prevails to this day. It is carefully kept in the western churches, and especially in that of the Romans. For there the place of those in penance is in plain view; they stand downcast and as if mourning. When the divine liturgy has been completed, not having shared in what is lawful for the initiated, they throw themselves face down on the ground with wailing and lamentation. The bishop, weeping, runs to meet them and likewise falls on the ground; and with loud cries the whole multitude of the church too is filled with tears. After this the bishop rises first and raises those lying down; and having prayed as is fitting for repentant sinners, he dismisses them. Then each one, of his own will, afflicts himself privately with fasts, or abstinence from baths, or from foods, or other things he has been ordered, and waits for the time the bishop has fixed for him. At the appointed time, having paid the penalty like a debt, he is released from the sin and assembles with the people. The priests of the Romans have kept these things from the beginning even to our day. In the church of Constantinople the presbyter appointed over the penitents carried out his office, until a certain woman of noble family, who had been ordered by this presbyter, for the sins she had confessed, to fast and supplicate God, and who for this reason was staying in the church, disclosed that she had been led into sexual immorality by a man who was a deacon. When the people learned this, they were angry, as if the church had been insulted; and the greatest discredit fell upon the clergy. Nectarius, at a loss what to do about what had happened, deprived the offender of his diaconate. When some advised him to allow each person to share in the mysteries as he was conscious within himself and could have confidence, he abolished the presbyter over penance. And from that time this has prevailed — the ancient way, I think, with its dignity and strictness, having already begun little by little to slide into an indifferent and careless habit. For before, as I suppose, the sins were fewer, both from the shame of those who announced their own faults and from the strictness of the judges appointed for this. For this reason, I conjecture, the emperor Theodosius too, providing for the good fame and dignity of the churches, made a law that women should not be admitted to the ministry of God unless they had children and were over sixty years old, according to the express command of the apostle Paul; and that women who cut off their hair should be driven from the churches, and the bishops who admitted them deprived of their episcopate.

But let each consider these things as he pleases. The emperor condemned Eunomius to exile beyond the frontier. … at that time in Constantinople, holding the views of Eunomius, left a heresy named after himself. For when the question was raised whether the Son knows the last hour, and the saying in the Gospels that only the Father knows seemed to stand against it, he maintained that the Son was not without this knowledge either, since he had received all things from the Father without lack. When the leaders of the heresy at that time would not accept his argument, he separated himself from their communion and went to Eunomius, who was in exile. A deacon and others had already arrived, who had been sent from Constantinople to accuse him and, if necessary, to debate; but Eunomius, learning why they had come, approved the arguments of Eutychius and prayed with him, although it is not lawful among them to pray with those who come from elsewhere without letters showing that they are of the same belief — by signs written in the letters, unknown to others. Not long after this inquiry Eunomius died; and the head of the heresy in Constantinople would not receive Eutychius, hating him out of jealousy, because, though he was not even a cleric, he himself, eager to oppose his arguments, was unable to solve the problem. From this Eutychius, with those who thought as he did, separated into a heresy of his own. As for the dispute about divine baptism, the common account blames him and Theophronius. These things I have written from what I learned, for a brief knowledge of the causes from which the Eunomians were divided. To go through all the arguments raised on this account would be long, and not easy for me, since I am not experienced in such debates. About this time an inquiry arose among the Arians in Constantinople too, whether God could be called Father before the Son existed, since among them it is confessed that the Son is from things that are not. Dorotheus, who had been summoned from Antioch in place of Marinus and presided over this heresy, declared that God was not called Father before the Son existed, since the name is relative. But Marinus maintained the opposite, and held that the Father was always Father even when the Son did not exist — either because he thought so, or because he was at odds with Dorotheus, who had been preferred to preside over their church. For this reason the multitude was divided into two. Dorotheus with those who obeyed him remained in the houses of prayer they held; Marinus’s party built others and held assemblies by themselves. They were called Psathyrians, or “of the Goths”: the former because a certain Theoctistus, a seller of psathyria — this is a kind of cake — zealously supported this belief; and “of the Goths” because Selenas their bishop believed likewise. Almost all the barbarians followed him and held assemblies with them; for they were most obedient to Selenas, who had been the secretary and successor of Ulfilas, their former bishop, and was able to teach in church not only in their ancestral language but also in Greek. Not long after, when a dispute about precedence arose between Marinus and Agapius, whom he had ordained bishop of those of their belief at Ephesus, they separated from one another and all but made war on each other, the Goths helping Agapius. For this reason, it is said, many of the clergy there, blaming the ambition of their leaders, entered into communion with the catholic church. In this way the Arians were first divided, and still now in the cities where they are they hold assemblies apart. But those in Constantinople, after quarrelling among themselves for thirty-five years, were later brought to concord by Plinthas, who shared their belief, a man of consular rank and commander of horse and foot, who had become most powerful at the palace; and, meeting together, they decreed that this question should never again be brought to debate. So these things turned out later.

Under the present rule the Novatians too, falling out among themselves about the feast of Pascha, formed another heresy, that of the so-called Sabbatians. For Sabbatius, a presbyter ordained by Marcian, together with Theoctistus and Macarius, his fellow presbyters, following those who had met at the village of Pazus in the reign of Valens, thought it right to celebrate the feast of Pascha with the Jews. Withdrawing from the church, he pretended at first that it was partly for the sake of ascetic discipline — for he lived excellently — and partly because he suspected some of being unworthy to share in the mysteries. When it became clear that he was innovating, Marcian regretted his ordination; and he often exclaimed, they say, that it would have been better to lay his hands on thorns than on him. Seeing his church being cut by him into another body, he called together bishops of his own belief at Sangarus, a place in Bithynia lying on the sea not far from Helenopolis. Having met there, they summoned Sabbatius. When he was asked to state the cause of his grievance and blamed the difference about the feast, they suspected that he was making these pretexts from love of precedence, and demanded an oath that he would never accept a bishopric. When he had confessed this on oath, they reckoned that this cause was not sufficient for separation of communion, and decreed that all should be of one mind and assemble together, but that each should celebrate this feast as seemed good to him. And they made a canon about this which they called “indifferent.” So it was decided by those who met at Sangarus. From that time Sabbatius, following the Jews, if it did not happen that all kept the feast at the same time, fasted beforehand as is customary and celebrated Pascha by himself with the customary rites. On the Saturday, from evening until the proper time, he continued in vigil and the fitting prayers, and on the next day he assembled with all in common and shared in the mysteries. At first this escaped the multitude; but when in time he became noted for it, he had many imitators, especially Phrygians and Galatians, for whom it was ancestral to celebrate this feast so. Later, withdrawing openly, he accepted the episcopate of those who obeyed him, as will be told in due course. I am amazed that this man and his followers made this innovation, since the ancient Hebrews, as Eusebius records on the testimony of Philo, Josephus, Aristobulus and very many others, sacrificed the passover after the spring equinox, when the sun is passing through the first twelfth part, which the Greeks call the Ram, and the moon on its fourteenth day is in the opposite position. And the Novatians themselves who care for exactness maintain that this was not formerly the custom either for them or for the founder of the heresy, but that it was introduced by those who met at Pazus; and that still now in elder Rome those of their belief celebrate with the other Romans, whom the past has proved never to have kept the feast otherwise, following the tradition of the apostles Peter and Paul. Moreover, the Samaritans, who are the most zealous for the law of Moses, do not consent to celebrate this feast before the new fruit has been brought to ripeness. For the law, they say, calls it the feast of new fruits; it is not lawful to celebrate before these appear; so that the spring equinox must necessarily come first. It is a wonder that those who imitate the Jews in this did not rather approve the antiquity among the Jews themselves. It appears that, apart from these and those in Asia called Quartodecimans, those of the other heresies too keep this feast like the Romans and the Egyptians. But the Quartodecimans celebrate on the fourteenth itself with the Jews, from which they have this name; while the Novatians celebrate the day of the resurrection. They too follow the Jews and coincide with the Quartodecimans, except when the first day of the week does not fall on the fourteenth of the moon; then they come after the Jews by as many days as the coming Sunday falls later than the fourteenth of the moon. The Montanists, whom they call Pepuzite Phrygians, have introduced a strange method and keep Pascha by it. They blame those who busy themselves with the course of the moon for this purpose, and say that those who reckon rightly must follow only the solar cycles. They define a month as thirty days, and say the first begins from the spring equinox, which according to the Romans would be the ninth day before the Kalends of April, since, they say, the two lights by which times and years are shown were made then. And this is shown by the fact that the moon comes together with the sun in an eight-year cycle, and the new moon of both falls at the same time; for the eight-year cycle of the moon’s course is completed in ninety-nine months and two thousand nine hundred and twenty-two days, in which the sun completes its eight courses, reckoning three hundred and sixty-five days and a quarter to each year. For from the ninth day before the Kalends of April, as being the beginning of the creation of the sun and of the first month, they reckon the fourteenth day spoken of in the sacred Scriptures; and they say this is the eighth day before the Ides of April, on which they always keep Pascha; if the day of the resurrection should happen to coincide with it, they celebrate on the following Sunday. For it is written, they say, “from the fourteenth to the twenty-first.”

Such are the differences about this feast. Victor, then bishop of Rome, and Polycarp of Smyrna, with those about them, very wisely settled, I think, the contention that arose long ago about it. For since the priests of the West thought they should not dishonour the tradition of Paul and Peter, and those from Asia maintained that they followed John the evangelist, they agreed in common that each should celebrate as they were accustomed, and they did not separate from communion with one another. For they very rightly supposed it foolish to be separated from one another on account of customs while agreeing on the essentials of religion. For one cannot find the same traditions alike in everything in all the churches, even if they are of one belief. For example, the Scythians, though there are many cities, all have one bishop. In other nations there are places where bishops serve even in villages, as I know among the Arabians and Cypriots, and among the Novatians and Montanists in Phrygia. Deacons among the Romans are still no more than seven, after the likeness of those ordained by the apostles, of whom Stephen the first martyr was one; but among the others their number is indifferent. Again, in Rome they sing the Alleluia once each year, on the first day of the Paschal feast, so that for many Romans it is an oath, “So may I be thought worthy to hear and sing this hymn.” Neither the bishop nor anyone else teaches in church there; among the Alexandrians only the bishop of the city does. They say this was not formerly the custom, but became so from the time Arius, being a presbyter, innovated while discoursing about doctrine. This too is strange among these Alexandrians: when the Gospels are read, the bishop does not rise, which I have neither known nor heard of elsewhere. There only the archdeacon reads this sacred book; elsewhere deacons; in many churches the priests only; on notable days bishops, as in Constantinople on the first day of the feast of the resurrection. And the so-called Forty before this, in which the people fast, some reckon at six weeks of days, as the Illyrians and the westerners, all Libya and Egypt with the Palestinians; others at seven, as in Constantinople and the surrounding nations as far as the Phoenicians. Others fast three weeks scattered within the six or seven; others three joined together before the feast; others two, as those who hold the views of Montanus. Nor is the time or manner of assembling the same among all. For some assemble on the Sabbath as on the first day of the week, as in Constantinople and almost everywhere; but in Rome and Alexandria not so. Among the Egyptians, in many cities and villages, contrary to what is the common custom of all, they meet towards evening on the Sabbath and, having already eaten, share in the mysteries. Nor can one find all using the same prayers and psalms or readings at the same time. Thus the so-called Apocalypse of Peter, judged by the ancients to be altogether spurious, we know is still read once each year in some churches of Palestine, on the day of Preparation, which the people fast very devoutly in remembrance of the Saviour’s passion. And the one now circulating as the Apocalypse of Paul the apostle, which none of the ancients saw, most monks praise. Some maintain that this book was found in the present reign. For they say that by a divine manifestation a marble chest was found under the ground at Tarsus in Cilicia, at the house of Paul, and the book was in it. When I asked about this, a Cilician, a presbyter of the church in Tarsus, said it was false; he was of great age, as his grey hair showed. He said that he knew of no such thing having happened among them, and wondered whether this had not been fabricated by heretics. So much about this. One could find many customs in cities and villages which those brought up in them think it neither holy nor tolerable to transgress, out of respect for those who handed them down from the beginning or their successors. The same must be thought to have happened to people concerning this feast, on account of which I was led into these remarks.

While those of the other heresies were being torn apart, as has been said, the catholic church grew still more, very many being added to it through the dissension of those of other belief among themselves, and above all from the pagan multitude. For when the emperor saw that the habit of past time still drew his subjects to their ancestral worship and to the places venerated by them, at the beginning of his reign he forbade them to set foot in these; and at the end he destroyed many. They, for want of houses of prayer, grew accustomed in time to frequent the churches; for it was not safe even to sacrifice secretly in pagan fashion, but a law was in force against those who dared these things, fixing the penalty of loss of head and property. At that time, they say, the river of Egypt was late in its first rising; and the Egyptians were angry that they were not allowed to sacrifice to the river according to ancestral law. The governor of the province, suspecting that they were preparing for a riot, reported this. When the emperor learned it, he said that it was better to remain faithful to the Divine than to prefer the waters of the Nile and the plenty that comes from them to piety. “For may that river never flow,” he said, “if it really can be swayed by sorceries and delights in sacrifices, defiling with streams of blood the currents that flow from the divine paradise.” Not long after the Nile poured out abundantly and sent its streams even over the higher ground. When it reached the most complete measure, which is seldom attained, and the water rose no less, the Egyptians were brought round to the opposite fear, and there was alarm lest it flood the city of Alexander and part of Libya. Then, it is said, the pagans of Alexandria, vexed at what had happened against their expectation, mocked and shouted in the theatres that the river, like an old man and dotard, had wet himself. From this very many of the Egyptians condemned their ancestral superstition and changed over to Christianity. These things are as I have learned.

About this time the head of John the Baptist, which Herodias had asked of Herod the tetrarch, was brought to Constantinople. It is said to have been found among monks of the Macedonian heresy, who had first lived in Jerusalem and later moved to Cilicia. In the reign before this, when Mardonius, a eunuch who was chief of the imperial household, reported it, Valens ordered it to be brought to Constantinople. Those sent for this put it on a public carriage and conveyed it. But when they came to Panteichium, a place in the territory of Chalcedon, the mules drawing the carriage would go no further, although the grooms threatened them and the driver goaded them hard with the whip. When they accomplished nothing, and it seemed to everyone, and to the emperor himself, that the thing was strange and divine, they deposited this sacred head at the village of Cosilaus; for it happened to be nearby and was the property of this Mardonius. About this time, moved either by God or by the prophet himself, the emperor Theodosius came to this village. When he wished to take the relic of the Baptist, they say that only Matrona opposed him, who was a holy virgin, and its servant and guardian followed her. Since she resisted with all her strength, they did not think it right to use force; but he begged and entreated her to allow it. When she reluctantly yielded, thinking the ruler’s attempt would come to nothing, as had happened in the time of Valens, he wrapped the casket in which it lay in his purple robe and went back with it, and placed it before the city of Constantinople at the place called the Hebdomon, raising there a very great and most beautiful temple to God. Though he often pressed Matrona and promised her favours, he did not persuade her to change her belief; for she was of the Macedonian heresy. Yet Vincent, a presbyter who shared her belief and likewise tended the coffin of the prophet and served there as priest, followed at once and entered into communion with those of the catholic church; having sworn, as those who hold Macedonius’s views say, never to change from their belief, but finally declaring openly that if the Baptist chose to follow the emperor, he too would communicate with him, differing in nothing. He was a Persian by race; and when, in the reign of Constantius, persecution overtook the Christians in Persia, he fled with Addas his cousin and came to the Romans. He was enrolled in the clergy and advanced to the rank of presbyter; while Addas married, did great service to the church, and left a son, Auxentius, a man most faithful concerning the Divine and zealous for his friends, of harmonious life, fond of learning, and widely informed in what has been recorded by the Greeks and by the church writers; moderate in character, though well connected with the emperor and his court and holding a distinguished office in the imperial service. Of him there is much talk among the most renowned monks and good men who had experience of him. Matrona lived in the village of Cosilaus until her death; she lived very reverently and chastely, as leader of holy virgins, of whom I have learned that many still survive, bearing a character worthy of Matrona’s training.

Theodosius, governing the eastern empire in peace, was busy with these things and served the Divine very diligently. Meanwhile it was announced that the emperor Valentinian had perished by hanging. It was said that this death was contrived for him through the eunuchs of his bedchamber by others in the palace and by Arbogast, the commander of his troops, because they found the young man taking after his father in his rule and angry at many of the things they wished. Others think that he became his own murderer, since in the heat of youth he was attempting some things he should not and was being prevented, and for this reason did not think life worth living, because as emperor he was not allowed to do what he wished. They say, however, that this youth seemed exceedingly worthy of rule for his bodily nobility and the excellence of his kingly manners, and that, being high-minded, he would have surpassed his father in justice had he reached manhood. Such as he was, he died thus. A certain Eugenius, not sound concerning the doctrine of the Christians, leapt into the rule and put on the insignia of empire. He thought he would hold his enterprise securely, led on by the words of men who promised to know the future by certain sacrifices, inspection of livers and observation of the stars. Many other Roman officials were zealous in these things, and Flavian, then prefect, a man of letters who seemed prudent in civic affairs, and who moreover reckoned that he knew the future exactly by his science of every kind of divination. By this above all he persuaded Eugenius to prepare for war, maintaining that the empire was fated for him, that victory would follow in the battle, and a change in the religion of the Christians. Eugenius, beguiled by these hopes, gathered a very great army and occupied in advance and guarded the gates toward Italy which the Romans call the Julian Alps, as having a single passage in a narrow pass, fenced on each side by sheer, very high mountains. Theodosius, considering how the war against him would turn out, and whether he should march against him or wait for him to come, resolved to take as his counsellor about this John, the monk in the Thebaid, who, as was said before, was then most celebrated for his knowledge of the future; and he sent Eutropius, one of the palace eunuchs who was faithful to him, to Egypt, to bring him if possible, or, if he declined, to learn what should be done. Eutropius came to John but did not persuade him to come to the emperor. Returning, he reported that John said that the emperor would win the war, overthrow the usurper, and after the victory depart this life in Italy. The end showed both to be true.

Meanwhile, because of the needs of the war, the officials whose concern this was decided to exact from the taxpayers something more than the usual taxes. At this the people of Antioch in Syria rioted, threw down the statues of the emperor and of his wife, tied them with rope and dragged them about, uttering the insulting cries that an angry multitude naturally utters. When he resolved to destroy many of the Antiochenes, the multitude was terror-struck at the mere report; and ceasing from their madness, they repented, and as though the evils announced were already present, groaned and wept and besought God to soften the ruler’s anger, using certain mournful songs in their litanies. Then Flavian, bishop of the Antiochenes, going as an envoy for the citizens while the emperor was still angry, persuaded the young men who used to sing at the imperial table to sing the psalms of the Antiochenes’ litanies; at which, it is said, the emperor, melted to kindness, was overcome by pity, at once cast out his anger and was reconciled to the city, wetting with his tears the cup he happened to be holding. They say that on the night before the day on which the riot took place, a phantom of a woman was seen, enormous in size and fearful to behold, running about high in the air through the streets of the city and lashing the air with a harsh-sounding whip, like those with which men busy with such spectacles rouse the beasts to fury. So some avenging demon stirred up the riot by design. And much bloodshed would have followed had not the emperor checked his anger, respecting from piety the priestly supplication.

When his preparations for the war were ready, he proclaimed his younger son Honorius emperor; for he had already elevated Arcadius. Leaving both in Constantinople, he hastened with his armies from the East to the western empire, and a multitude of allies from the barbarians along the Ister followed him. It is said that as he was leaving Constantinople and reached the seventh milestone, he prayed to God in the church there, which he had built in honour of John the Baptist, and asked that the outcome of the war might be favourable to himself, his army and all the Romans, and called on the Baptist as his ally. Having prayed thus, he came to Italy. Attacking the Alps, he took the first guard posts. When he had passed the summit of the pass and was at the descent, he saw the plain full of cavalry and infantry, and not far behind him many of the enemy on the summit of the mountain, keeping still for the time. When his vanguard had passed and engaged those in the plain, a fierce and doubtful battle began. While the enemy army was still surrounding him, reckoning that he had come into the power of men, and that not even those who wished could save him if those at his back who held the ridge attacked, he fell face down on the ground and prayed with tears. And God heard him at once, as the outcome showed. For the commanders of those posted about the summit sent some men and announced that they would be his allies, if they were to be held in honour by him. When he looked for paper and ink and found none, he took a writing tablet that one of those standing by happened to have, and wrote down for them a distinguished and suitable rank in the army, which they would have from him if they fulfilled their promise. On these terms they went over to the emperor. While neither side had yet given way, and the battle in the plain was still evenly balanced on both sides, an extraordinary wind, such as we have never heard of before, struck the enemy in the face and broke up their ranks. The arrows and javelins thrown against the Romans, as if striking something resistant, it turned back on the bodies of those who threw them; and it snatched the shields from their hands and rolled them against them with rubbish and dust. Stripped of their arms, most were killed at once; others, saving themselves for a little by flight, were taken not long after. Eugenius, running to the emperor’s feet, begged to be spared; and while he was entreating, his head was cut off by one of the soldiers. Arbogast, fleeing after the battle, became his own executioner. It is said that at the time this battle was being fought, in the temple of God at the Hebdomon, where the emperor had prayed when he set out, a demoniac, lifted up into the air, reviled John the Baptist and reproached him with having had his head cut off, and cried out: “You are defeating me and plotting against my army.” Those who happened to be there, astonished — as was natural, since there was great eagerness about the war to hear and tell any news — wrote down the day; and not long after they learned from those who took part in the battle that the events of the war had taken place on it. Such is the account.

After the overthrow of Eugenius the emperor came to Milan and went to the church to pray. When he was at the doors, Ambrose, the bishop of the city, met him, took hold of his purple robe in front of the crowd, and said: “Stop. For a man profaned by sin, with hands unjustly stained with blood, may not, before repentance, cross the threshold of the sanctuary or share in the divine mysteries.” The emperor, admiring the priest’s boldness, became thoughtful and turned back, stung by repentance. The occasion of the sin was this. When the charioteer of Butheric, then commander of the soldiers in Illyricum, saw Butheric’s cupbearer and made a shameful attempt on him, he was arrested and kept in custody. When a notable horse race was about to be held, the people of Thessalonica demanded that he be released as necessary for the contest; and when they got nothing, they fell into a fierce riot and finally killed Butheric. When this was reported, the emperor fell into immoderate anger and ordered a fixed number of those who happened to be about to be put to death. From this the city was filled with many unjust murders. For strangers who had just put in by sea, or arrived from a journey, were unexpectedly caught; and pitiable sufferings occurred, among them this: a merchant, in place of his two sons who had been seized, offered himself and begged to die while they were saved, offering the soldiers as payment all the gold he had. They, pitying the man’s calamity, accepted his entreaty in place of one of his sons, whichever he should choose; but they said that to release both was not without danger to themselves, since the number would be short. The father, looking at both, wailing and weeping, could not bring himself to choose either, but remained at a loss until they had died, equally overcome by love for each. I have also learned that a good slave at that time gladly let himself be killed in place of his master, who was being led to the slaughter. Since these and other such evils had naturally happened, Ambrose, blaming the emperor, kept him out of the church and put him out of communion. He himself confessed his sin publicly in the church; and during all the time fixed for his repentance he did not use the imperial ornaments, as one in mourning. He also enacted a law that those who carry out the emperor’s orders should defer for thirty days the punishment of those condemned to death, so that in the interval the emperor’s anger might be softened, and, as his wrath abated, room might be made for mercy and repentance. Many things worthy of his priesthood were done by this Ambrose, which, as is natural, are known only to the local people. Of his most notable deeds I have learned this also. It was the custom for the emperors to assemble in the sanctuary, separated by distinction from the bounds of the people. Seeing that this came from flattery or disorder, he appointed as the emperor’s place in church the one in front of the railings of the sanctuary, so that the ruler should have precedence over the people, but the priests should sit before him. The emperor Theodosius approved this excellent tradition, and those after him confirmed it; and we see it kept from then until now. This deed of the man too seems to me necessary to include in my writing as memorable. A pagan, one of the officials, reviled Gratian and called him unworthy of his father; and having been indicted for this, he was condemned to death. As he was being led to punishment, Ambrose came to the palace to plead for him. Since Gratian, through the efforts of those plotting against the man, was busy watching a hunting show of the kind emperors are accustomed to hold for their private pleasure, not a public one, and none of those stationed at the imperial gates would announce him, saying it was not the time, Ambrose withdrew. But coming to the gate by which they brought in the beasts, he slipped in unnoticed; and having entered with the huntsmen, he did not desist, nor yield to the entreaties of Gratian and those about him, until he had there and then wrested from the emperor a saving sentence freeing the man being led to death. He was also very zealous for the keeping of the laws of the church and for the discipline of the clergy under him. Of the many things he accomplished, let me say these, as proof of the freedom of speech he had toward the rulers for God’s sake.

At this time many in many parts of the world were distinguished among the bishops, such as Donatus of Euroea in Epirus. The local people bear witness that he worked many wonders, and above all the killing of the dragon which made its lair about the place called Chamaegephyrae by the highway and carried off sheep, goats, oxen, horses and people. For he came against this beast bearing no sword or spear and having no other weapon; but when it perceived him and raised its head as if to attack, he made the sign of the cross in the air before it with his finger and spat on it. And as it received the spittle into its mouth, it at once fell down dead. As it lay there its size appeared no less than that of the serpents recorded among the Indians. I have learned that the local people dragged it with eight yoke of oxen to the plain nearby and burned it, so that it might not rot and pollute the air and cause a pestilential disease. This Donatus has a notable tomb, a house of prayer that takes its name from him; and near it is a spring of abundant water, which did not exist before, but which the Divine sent up when he prayed. For this place was altogether waterless; and once when he arrived there from a journey, it is said that, as those with him were suffering for lack of water, he dug the earth with his hand and prayed, and that with the prayer abundant water gushed up and has not ceased from that time. Of these things the inhabitants of Isoria, a village of Euroea, where they happened, are witnesses. At this time Theotimus, a Scythian, a man brought up in philosophy, governed the church of Tomi in the other Scythia. The barbarian Huns along the Ister, admiring his virtue, called him the God of the Romans; for they had experienced divine things through him. It is said, at any rate, that once when he was travelling near the barbarians’ country there, they met him coming along the same road toward Tomi. As those with him lamented that they were about to perish, he dismounted from his horse and prayed; and the barbarians, seeing neither him nor his followers nor the horses from which they had dismounted, rode past. Since they often came and did harm to the Scythians, he changed them, savage by nature, to gentleness, entertaining them and showing kindness with gifts. From this a barbarian, supposing him to be rich, plotted to seize him; and having prepared a noose, leaning on his shield as was his custom when parleying with enemies, he raised his right hand and was about to cast the rope at him, to drag him to himself and his people. But in the attempt his hand remained stretched out in the air; and the barbarian was not freed from the invisible bonds until, when the others entreated, Theotimus prayed to God for him. They say that he kept his hair long, as in the dress in which he began to practise philosophy; that his diet was simple; and that he fixed the time for food not by the same hour but by when he was hungry or thirsty. For it was the part of a philosopher, I think, to have even these things for need, not for ease.

About this time Epiphanius was bishop of the metropolis of the Cypriots. Not only his way of life showed him renowned for his virtues, but also the marvels God worked to honour the man while he lived and after his death. For it is said that at his tomb, even now, demons are driven out and certain healings take place — which was not so while he was alive. While he was living they attribute many wonders to him; of those that have come to us, this: being generous to the needy, or to the shipwrecked, or to those otherwise unfortunate, when he had long since spent his own property, he spent freely as was needful the money of the church. And this was very great; for from every side many who had resolved to spend their wealth piously gave it to the church under him while they lived and left it to it when they died; for they trusted that, as one keeping the law and dear to God, he would spend the gifts as they wished. They say, at any rate, that once when little money was left, the steward of the church was angry and blamed him as extravagant; but that even so he did not slacken in his liberality to the needy. When everything had been spent, someone came to the room where the steward was staying and gave him a purse of many gold coins. Since neither the giver nor the sender appeared — and it was naturally strange for an unknown man to present himself to give so much money — then all concluded that the thing was divine. But I wish to relate another story told about him. I learn that it was worked as a wonder by Gregory the wonderful, who long ago governed Neocaesarea, and I quite believe it. But one need not therefore disbelieve that Epiphanius did something similar. For not only Peter the apostle raised a dead man, but also John the evangelist at Ephesus, and the daughters of Philip at Hierapolis; and one can find many God-loving men, of old and now, who have done the same things often. This is what I wish to tell. Two beggars, watching for Epiphanius as he came by and contriving to get more from him, one stretched himself out on the ground and lay as if dead, while the other stood by and wept, as if lamenting the death of his companion, and complaining of his poverty because he could not even bury him. Epiphanius prayed that the man lying there might be at rest, gave what was needed for the burial, and said to the one weeping: “See to his burial, and stop weeping, child. For he will not rise now; what has happened is inevitable, and what is entirely laid down must be borne nobly.” Having said this he passed on. When no one was in sight, the one standing pushed the one lying with his foot, praising him for having imitated death so clearly: “Get up,” he said; “let us spend the day in luxury from your labours.” But when he lay as before, and neither heard him shouting nor felt him shaking him with all his strength, he ran and caught up with the priest, disclosed their trick, and weeping and tearing his hair begged that his companion be raised. Epiphanius urged him not to take what had happened hard, and sent the man away. For God did not undo what had happened — surely, I think, to assure people that those who behave so toward his servants are deceiving him himself, who hears and sees all things.

So much I have learned. From that time Acacius was distinguished among the bishops, having already earlier been entrusted with the episcopate of Beroea in Syria. Other things worthy of record are probably told of him, since he trained from childhood in the monastic life and lived strictly. He gave a proof of the greatest virtue by keeping the episcopal house open at all times, so that strangers and citizens, whoever wished, might see him without fear, whether at mealtime or in sleep. I admire this most; for either he lived so as always to be confident, or, being prepared against the readiness of nature toward vice, he devised this: so that, expecting always to be caught by those who came in suddenly, in continual watchfulness he might not sin in anything he should not, but be occupied with serious matters. At that time the brothers Zeno and Ajax were notable, who formerly practised the philosophic life, not in solitude, but at Gaza by the sea, at the place they call Maiuma. Being most faithful concerning the doctrine, they confessed God bravely, so that they were often cruelly and very harshly maltreated by the pagans. It is said that Ajax married a very beautiful wife, but came together with her only three times in all, and begot three sons; and that after this, having renounced such intercourse with his wife, he lived as a monk; and of his sons he brought up two for divine things and celibacy, and the other for marriage. He governed the church of Botolium with fairness and great distinction. Zeno, renouncing livelihood and marriage while still young, became most diligent in the ministry of God. They say — or rather, we ourselves have seen it — that when he was bishop of the church at Maiuma, already old and about a hundred years of age, he was never late for the morning or evening hymns or any other liturgy of God, unless illness kept him. Living his life in monastic philosophy, he wove linen garments on a single loom, and from this had his necessities and supplied others; and he did not cease from this same work until his death, although he was first in seniority among the priests of the province and presided over the people and the wealth of a very great church. These I have mentioned as an example of the priests of that time; to go through them all would be a task, since most were good; and the Divine bore witness to their lives, readily hearing them when they called and working very many wonders.

Led by such men, the church everywhere brought the peoples and the clergy to concord, virtue and zeal. Not only these things adorned religion, but also Habakkuk, and not long after him Micah, among the earliest prophets, who appeared about this time. The bodies of both, as I have learned, were revealed in a divine vision in a dream to Zebennus, who was then bishop of the church of Eleutheropolis. For the name of the place where Habakkuk was found is Cela, the city formerly called Keila; and Berathsatia is a place about ten stadia from the city, near which was Micah’s tomb, which the local people, not knowing what they were saying, called “the faithful tomb,” naming it Nephsameemana in their ancestral language. These things too, sufficient for the renown of the Christian doctrine, happened under the present reign. After the victory over Eugenius, while the emperor Theodosius was still staying at Milan, he fell ill; and calling to mind at the same time the prophecy of John the monk, he suspected that his end was near. He quickly summoned his son Honorius from Constantinople, and on seeing him when he arrived seemed to be better, so that he even went out to watch a horse race. But suddenly after the midday meal he became ill and ordered his son to complete the show. On the following night he departed this life, in the consulship of the brothers Olybrius and Probinus.

Having thus greatly increased the church, Theodosius died, being about sixty years old, of which he reigned sixteen. He left as successors to the rule Arcadius, the elder of his sons, over the eastern nations, and Honorius over the western; both were of one mind with their father about religion. At that time Siricius led the church of the Romans after Damasus; Nectarius that in Constantinople; Theophilus that in Alexandria; Flavian that of the Antiochenes; and John that of Jerusalem. Meanwhile the barbarian Huns overran Armenia and some parts of the eastern empire. It was said that Rufinus, the prefect of the East, had secretly brought them in to disturb the empire, being suspected in other ways too of wishing to usurp. But he was killed not long after on this charge. For as soon as the army returned from the battle against Eugenius and the emperor met it, as was the custom, before Constantinople, the soldiers without delay killed Rufinus. These things too became an occasion for religion to advance still more. For the rulers, out of piety, thought that the victories over the usurpers had been won for their father, and that Rufinus, the plotter against their rule, had thus been removed without effort. For this reason they kept more zealously and firmly what the former emperors had decreed in favour of the churches, and added gifts of their own. And their subjects, looking to them, readily changed over to Christianity if they were pagans, while heretics went over to the catholic church. Those of the heresy of Arius and Eunomius, both because they were divided among themselves for the reasons stated above, grew fewer every time. For many, from their contrariness to one another, thought they did not believe rightly about God, and went over to those of the same belief as the rulers. Those in Constantinople who held the views of Macedonius were harmed at that time by having no bishop. For since, in the reign of Constantius, they had been deprived of the churches by Eudoxius and his party, they had continued under presbyters only until the next reign. The Novatians, even if the question about Pascha that Sabbatius introduced troubled some of them, nevertheless for the most part remained quiet in their own church. For they were not liable to the same penalties or laws as the other heresies, since they held the Trinity of the same essence; and at that time they were held together more firmly in concord by the virtue of their leaders. For after the leadership of Agelius, they had had that of Marcian, a good man; and when he had lately died at the present time, Sisinnius succeeded to his episcopate, a man as learned as any, versed in the doctrines of the philosophers and in the sacred words, and ready for debate; so that Eunomius, renowned for this and making it his business, often declined debates with him. He was chaste in life, so as to be beyond slander, but in his diet delicate and varied, so that those who did not know him doubted whether he could be chaste while living so luxuriously. His character was gracious and pleasant in company; and for this he was dear to the bishops of the catholic church and to those in office and in letters, being very well able to jest with grace and to bear jests, and to endure both without enmity, and to meet questions wittily and quickly. When asked, at any rate, why he bathed twice a day, being a bishop, he said, “Because I cannot manage three times.” When, since he always wore white clothing, one of those of the catholic church mocked him, he said to him: “Then tell me where it is said that one ought to wear black clothing.” When the other was at a loss, he answered: “You will not be able to show this; but for me Solomon the wisest advises, saying, ‘Let your garments always be white’; and Christ himself appears in the Gospels clothed in white, and shows Moses and Elijah so to the apostles.” This too of Sisinnius’s sayings seems to me graceful. Leontius, the bishop of Ancyra among the Galatians, was staying in Constantinople. Having taken away the churches of the Novatians there, he came to Sisinnius when he asked to receive them back. When he would not give them back, but reviled the Novatians as unworthy to hold assemblies, saying that they abolished repentance and the kindness that comes from God, “But indeed,” said Sisinnius, “no one repents as I do.” When Leontius asked in what way, he answered, “In that I have seen you.” They record many other aptly spoken sayings of his, and they say that many of his discourses, not without elegance, are in circulation. He was praised the more when speaking, since he delivered excellently, and with voice and look and a most graceful countenance was able to win his hearer. But let this be said of what kind of man he was, as proof of his nature, training and life.

About this time Nectarius died, and when there was deliberation as to whom they should ordain, some voted for one and some for another, and not all thought the same. There was at Antioch on the Orontes a presbyter named John, of a noble family, good in life, powerful in speech and persuasion, and surpassing the orators of his time, as Libanius the Syrian sophist bore witness. For when he was about to die, and his friends asked who would take his place, he is said to have answered, “John, had not the Christians stolen him.” He benefited very many of those who heard him in church toward virtue and made them of one mind with him about the divine. For living a godly life, he instilled in his hearers zeal for virtue; and readily so, not as though forcing them by some art or power of speech to believe as he did, but because he expounded the sacred books sincerely, as truth requires. For speech adorned by deeds naturally appears worthy of belief; but without these it shows the speaker to be a dissembler and an accuser of his own words, however earnestly he teaches. He had excellence in both: he followed a chaste way of life and a strict conduct, and a clear and splendid style of speech, for he was well endowed by nature. His teachers were Libanius for training in rhetoric and Andragathius for philosophical studies. When he was expected to plead at law and follow that career, he resolved to train himself in the sacred books and to practise philosophy according to the rule of the church. As teachers of this philosophy he had those who then presided over the famous ascetic houses there, Carterius and Diodore, who led the church of Tarsus; who, I have learned, left many books of his own writings and made his interpretations according to the letter of the sacred words, avoiding allegorical contemplations. He did not attend them alone; he persuaded two who had been his companions in Libanius’s school, Theodore and Maximus, to be of the same mind. Of these, Maximus later became bishop of Seleucia in Isauria, and Theodore of Mopsuestia in Cilicia, a man well versed in the sacred books and in the rest of the learning of orators and philosophers. When Theodore first encountered the divine laws and associated with holy men, he praised this way of life and condemned that of the city; but he did not persevere with the same zeal. Repenting, he was drawn back to his former life; and, as was likely, adorning what he desired with contrary arguments drawn from old examples — for he was very widely read — he returned to the city, judging this better, as he thought, which he desired to obtain. When John learned that he was involved in business and set on marriage, he composed a letter more divine in style and thought than is within human reach and sent it to him. Theodore, reading it, repented; and leaving his property again and renouncing marriage, he was saved by John’s counsels and returned to the philosophic life. So that from this too it seems to me easy to infer what powerful persuasion flowered in John’s words; for in this he surpassed even those equally able to speak and persuade. From this he won over the multitude too, especially because he was much given to rebuking sinners, both in church, and to showing indignation boldly against wrongdoers as if he himself had been wronged. This was naturally pleasing to the many, but grievous to the rich and powerful, among whom most sins are found. Having become famous throughout the whole Roman empire, by experience to those who knew him and by report to those who did not, from his words and deeds, he seemed to the people of Constantinople fit to oversee the church. When the people and the clergy had voted for this, the emperor agreed and sent men to bring him; and he called a synod, showing the ordination to be the more solemn by this too. Not long after, Asterius, governor of the East, receiving the emperor’s letters, told John to come to him, as if he wished to ask something of him. When he came, he at once put him in a carriage with himself, drove in haste, and came to Pagrae, a station so called; and there, handing him over to those sent by the emperor, he went back. He seemed to have managed this well, before the Antiochenes learned of it — who were prone to riots and clearly would never have parted with John willingly, before suffering or doing something. When he came to Constantinople and the priests who had been called had assembled, Theophilus opposed the ordination, being eager for Isidore. He was then a presbyter of those under him and in charge of the strangers and poor in Alexandria; and from his youth he had practised philosophy excellently in Scetis, as I have learned from men who associated with him. Others say that he had become Theophilus’s friend as a partner and accomplice in a dangerous affair. For they say that when the war against Maximus was being waged, Theophilus gave him gifts and letters to the emperor and to the usurper, and ordered him to go to Rome and await the outcome of the battle, and to give the gifts with the letters to the victor; and that, when he had done this, he was found out, and in fear returned to Alexandria as a fugitive. From that time Theophilus made the man one of his most trusted, and thought it timely to repay him for the dangers he had run on his behalf by making him bishop of Constantinople. But whether for this reason, or because he wished to ordain him as a good man, Theophilus finally agreed to what had been decided about John, being simply afraid of Eutropius, who then presided over the emperor’s household and was eager for this ordination. They say that he openly threatened him either to vote together with the other priests or to answer those who wished to accuse him; for many happened then to have brought charges against him before the synod.

When John was in the episcopate, he was eager first to correct the lives of the clergy under him; inquiring into their goings out, their diet and the rest of their conduct, he rebuked and corrected them, and some he drove out of the church. For being by nature given to rebuke, and justly indignant at wrongdoers, he gave still more scope to these passions in his episcopate. For nature, having gained power, readily set his tongue to rebuke and more easily stirred his anger against sinners. Not only the church under him, but, as a good and high-minded man, he was eager to set right the churches everywhere. At any rate, as soon as he entered on the episcopate, since the priests of Egypt and the West were still at odds with those of the East because of Paulinus, and a general want of fellowship held the churches throughout the empire on this account, he asked Theophilus to work with him and reconcile the bishop of the Romans to Flavian. This being agreed, they chose for this Acacius, bishop of Beroea, and Isidore, on whose account Theophilus had opposed John’s ordination. Coming to Rome, when their embassy had turned out as they wished, they sailed to Egypt; and from there Acacius came to Syria, bringing letters of peace from the priests of Egypt and the West to Flavian’s party. So the churches, at long last freed from this dissension, recovered communion with one another. But the body at Antioch called Eustathians remained by itself for some time, without a bishop. For Evagrius, who succeeded Paulinus, died, as we have learned, having lived a short time; and on this account, I think, reconciliation was easy for the bishops, since there was no rival. The people, as a populace will, joining little by little those who assembled under Flavian, were in time mostly united.

Meanwhile Gainas, a barbarian who had deserted to the Romans and had risen unexpectedly from a common soldier to the rank of general, attempted to bring the empire of the Romans under himself. With this design he summoned to Roman territory his kinsmen the Goths from their own lands, and appointed his friends tribunes and commanders of a thousand. When Tribigild, who was related to him by race and commanded a numerous unit of soldiers in Phrygia, revolted, it was clear to sensible people that Gainas had contrived it; but pretending to be angry that the cities there were being ravaged, he was commissioned to help them. When he came to Phrygia with a multitude of barbarians, as if come for war, he brought into the open the purpose he had concealed before. He ravaged the cities he had been ordered to guard, and was about to attack others. Coming to Bithynia, he encamped in the territory of Chalcedon and threatened war. As affairs were in danger, especially in Asia and the cities between it and the Euxine Sea, the emperor and his advisers, reckoning that it was not safe for them, unprepared as they were, to enter into danger against men who had already given up on life, sent to Gainas and told him to ask for whatever he wished; for he was ready to oblige him in everything. He demanded Saturninus and Aurelian, men of consular rank, suspecting them of being opposed to him; but having received them, he spared them. And meeting the emperor at the house of prayer before Chalcedon, in which is the tomb of the martyr Euphemia, and having received and given oaths of goodwill, he laid down his arms and crossed to Constantinople, holding from the emperor the command of infantry and cavalry. Seeming to prosper beyond his deserts, he did not bear it soberly; but since his first unreasonable success had turned out as he wished, he tried also to trouble the catholic church. For he was a Christian of the heresy of the barbarians, who hold the views of Arius. Persuaded by the leaders of this heresy, or out of ambition of his own, he asked the emperor that those of his belief might have one of the churches in the city; for it was neither just, he complained, nor otherwise fitting, that he, a general of the Romans, should have to go outside the walls to pray. When John learned this, he did not keep quiet. Taking the bishops who happened to be staying in the city, he came to the palace; and in the hearing of the emperor and in the presence of Gainas himself he poured out a long speech, reproaching him with his homeland and his flight, and how, when saved then by the emperor’s father, he had sworn to be well disposed to the Romans, to him and his children, and to the laws which he was now trying to make void. Saying this, he showed the law which Theodosius had made, forbidding those of other belief to hold assemblies within the walls. Then, turning his speech to the emperor, he persuaded him to keep in force the law enacted against the other heresies, advising that it was better to give up the empire than to commit impiety by becoming a betrayer of the house of God. Having spoken so boldly, he allowed no innovation concerning the churches under him. Gainas was already planning to break his oaths and to sack the city. Then a comet foretold this plot, appearing very great over the city and reaching almost to the earth itself, such as is said never to have appeared before. He tried first to attack the silversmiths’ shops, hoping to collect a great quantity of money from there. When a rumour arose that this had been planned, and the silversmiths hid their ready wealth and no longer displayed the silver on their tables in public as usual, he sent a multitude by night and ordered them to burn the palace. But they came back without success, cowering. For as they came near, they seemed to see a multitude of armed men of great stature. Supposing it to be a newly arrived army, they reported to Gainas. He, knowing that no more than the usual soldiers were staying in the city, would not believe what was said. But when those sent the next night reported the same as the first, he went himself and became an eyewitness of the marvellous sight. Thinking that soldiers from the other cities had gathered on his account, guarding the city and the palace by night and hiding by day, he pretended to be possessed by a demon; and as if to pray he went to the church which the emperor’s father had built at the Hebdomon in honour of John the Baptist. Of the barbarians, some remained within, others went out with Gainas. They secretly carried arms out with them in women’s carriages, and jars of missiles. When they were found out, they killed the guards of the gates who tried to prevent the carrying out of the arms. From this the city was full of confusion and uproar, as if about to be taken at once. But good counsel prevailed in the present dangers. For the emperor without delay proclaimed Gainas a public enemy and ordered the barbarians left in the city to be killed. The soldiers attacked them and killed most of them, and set fire to the church called that of the Goths; for they happened to have gathered there, as in their usual house of prayer, and could no longer flee, since the gates had been shut. When Gainas learned this, he marched through Thrace and came to the Chersonese, and was eager to cross the Hellespont; for he thought that if he gained Asia opposite, he would easily bring under himself all the nations of the eastern empire. But things turned out contrary to his hopes, the Romans having divine help here too. For an army sent by the emperor was there by land and sea, led by Fravitta, a barbarian by race but good in character and a capable general. The barbarians, having no ships, tried to sail across the Hellespont on rafts to the mainland opposite. But suddenly a strong west wind blew and violently broke up the rafts, and drove the Roman ships against them. Most of the barbarians went under with their horses; others were killed by the soldiers. Gainas, escaping then with a few, not long after, wandering and fleeing through Thrace, fell in with another army and perished with the barbarians about him. This was the end of Gainas’s daring and of his life. Fravitta, having distinguished himself in this battle, was appointed consul. At that time, when he and Vincent were consuls, a son was born to the emperor named after his grandfather; and at the beginning of the following consulship he was proclaimed Augustus.

John, governing the church of Constantinople excellently, brought over many of the pagans and many from the heresies. A crowd streamed to him every time, some to hear him for their benefit, others to test him. He won them all over and persuaded them to believe as he did about the divine. The multitude so hung upon him and could not have enough of his words, that, when they were in danger as they pushed and crushed one another, each forcing his way further forward so as to stand near and hear him more precisely as he spoke, he put himself in the middle of all and taught sitting on the readers’ platform. It seems to me timely to include in my writing the miracle that happened in his time. A man of the Macedonian heresy lived with a wife of the same belief. Happening to hear John teaching how one ought to believe about God, he approved the doctrine, and urged his wife to believe as he did. When she was overcome by her former habit and the conversations of the women she knew, and her husband admonished her often and accomplished nothing, he said, “Unless you share the divine things with me, you will not share my life any longer.” Then the wife, agreeing to do this, confided in one of her maidservants whom she thought faithful, and took her to deceive her husband. At the time of the mysteries — those who are initiated know what I mean — she, holding what she had received, bent down as if to pray. The maidservant, standing by her, secretly gave her what she had come with in her hands; but it hardened into stone between her teeth. The woman, terrified lest she suffer some harm, since so divine a thing had happened to her, ran to the bishop and confessed herself, and showed the stone, which bore the mark of the bite, of an unknown material and showing a strange colour. Asking pardon with tears, she lived with her husband sharing his belief. If this seems incredible to anyone, the stone itself is a witness, being kept to this day among the treasures of the church of Constantinople.

John, learning that the churches in Asia and round about were governed by unworthy men, and that some, led on by gain and bribes, others by favour, were selling the priesthoods, came to Ephesus. He deposed thirteen bishops, some in Lycia and Phrygia, others in Asia itself, and appointed others in their place; and for the church of the Ephesians — for its bishop at that time happened to have died — he appointed Heraclides, a Cypriot by birth, a deacon of the monks of Scetis under him, a disciple of Evagrius the monk. He also expelled Gerontius from the church of the Nicomedians. For this man, serving as deacon under Ambrose, bishop of Milan, whether — I know not what happened to him — telling marvels, or led on by the zeal of a demon and by fantasies, said to some that he had caught an onoskelis by night, shaved its head and thrown it into a mill. Since he had uttered things unworthy of a deacon of God, Ambrose ordered him to keep to himself for a time and be purified by repentance. But he, being an excellent physician, most ready in speaking and persuading, and able to win friends, came to Constantinople as if laughing at Ambrose. In a short time he made friends of some of the powerful at the palace, and not long after was entrusted with the episcopate of the Nicomedians. He was ordained by Helladius, bishop of Caesarea in Cappadocia, in return for having obtained a distinguished post in the palace service for his son. When Ambrose learned this, he wrote to Nectarius, head of the church of Constantinople, to take the priesthood from Gerontius and not overlook the insult to himself and to church order. But though Nectarius was very zealous about it, it proved impossible, since the Nicomedians to a man resisted manfully. John deposed him and ordained Pansophius, who had been tutor to the emperor’s wife, a pious man, moderate and gentle in character, but not to the liking of the Nicomedians. They rioted often, recounting publicly and to one another Gerontius’s benefactions, the abundant help of his medical skill, and his generosity and readiness toward all, rich and poor alike. To these they added his other virtues, as those who love naturally do. And as in earthquakes or droughts or other visitations of God, they went about the streets of their own city and of Constantinople singing psalms and beseeching God to have him as bishop. At last, compelled, they parted from him with mourning and lamentation, and received the other with fear and hatred. From this those who had been deposed and their friends accused John of having been the author of innovation in the churches and of having altered the rights of ordination contrary to ancestral laws; and out of vexation they even maligned, in the opinion of the many, what he had done that was worthy of mention. Indeed, what happened at that time in the case of Eutropius was also brought into the midst.

For this man, chief of the emperor’s eunuchs, was the first and only one we know or have heard of to be honoured with the rank of consul and of patrician. Since, in his present power, he did not consider the future or the reversals that happen in human affairs, he tried to drag out of the church those who had fled to God as suppliants and were staying there on his account, and especially Pentadia, the wife of Timasius. This man, who had been a powerful and most formidable general, Eutropius had punished with perpetual exile to the Oasis in Egypt, bringing against him a charge of aiming at tyranny. But he, either distressed by thirst, as I learned from someone, or fearing to suffer something worse, wandered in the sands there and was found dead. Through Eutropius’s efforts a law was made ordering that no one should anywhere take refuge in a church, and that those who had already fled there should be driven out. But not long after, being plotted against as having insulted the emperor’s wife, he himself was the first to transgress the law; escaping from the palace, he took refuge as a suppliant in the church. Then, as he lay under the holy table, John delivered a splendid speech against him, pulling down the pride of those in power and showing the people that nothing human tends to remain the same. Those who hated John maligned this too, as though he rebuked, trampling on his misfortunes, a man in danger of his life whom he ought to have pitied. But Eutropius paid the full penalty for this impious attempt, having his head cut off, and the law that had been made was wholly erased from the public records. The church was greatly distinguished, as God had quickly avenged the wrongs done against it, and it advanced in the service of the divine. The people of Constantinople then used the morning and night hymns more zealously, for the following reason.

Since those of the Arian heresy, deprived of the churches in Constantinople in the reign of Theodosius, held their assemblies before the walls, they used first to gather by night in the public porticoes, and, divided into groups, sang in the manner of antiphons, composing refrains made according to their own belief. Toward dawn, singing these in public, they went away to the places where they held their assemblies. They did this on the notable feasts and on the first and last days of the week. At last they even added to their songs things meant for strife, such as “Where are those who say that the three are one power?” and other such things mixed into their hymns. John, fearing lest some of those who assembled under him be led away by these, urged his own people to the same manner of psalmody. In a short time, having become more conspicuous, they surpassed those of the opposite heresy in numbers and in display. For silver crosses with lighted candles went before them; and a eunuch of the emperor’s wife had been appointed for this, providing the expense of these things and the hymns. From this those of the Arian heresy, either from jealousy or in retaliation, came to blows with those of the catholic church; and some were killed on each side. Brison — for that was the name of the imperial eunuch — was struck on the forehead with a stone. The emperor, moved to anger, stopped such gatherings of the heretics. Those of the catholic church, who began to sing hymns in the manner described for this reason, have continued so to this day. From these things and from his sermons in church, the people’s affection for John increased; but the hatred of the powerful and of the clergy toward his boldness of speech grew. For seeing wrongdoers he rebuked them, and he tried to lead those corrupted by wealth, impiety and unlawful pleasures back to virtue.

The hostility of the clergy toward him was increased by Serapion, whom he had made his archdeacon, an Egyptian, quick to anger and ready to insult; and not least by his counsels to Olympias. This woman, of a most distinguished family, though she had become a widow young, lived the philosophic life exceedingly according to the rule of the church; and Nectarius ordained her a deaconess. John, seeing her giving away her property to those who asked and disregarding everything else, caring only for divine things, said: “I praise your purpose; but one who seeks the summit of virtue according to God must be a good steward. You, by bringing wealth to the rich, pour out what is yours no less than if you threw it into the sea. Or do you not know that you have of your own will dedicated your property to the needy for God’s sake, and that you have been appointed to manage it as money that has passed out of your ownership, and have become accountable for it? If, then, you obey me, you will in future measure your giving to the need of those who ask; for so you will benefit more, and obtain from God the rewards of mercy and of most zealous care.” He also had a disagreement with many of the monks, and especially with Isaac. For those who lived the philosophic life quietly in their monasteries he praised exceedingly, and took great care that they not be wronged and have what they needed; but those who went outside and appeared about the city he reviled and turned back, as insulting philosophy. For such reasons many of the clergy and monks hated him, and called him harsh, irascible, awkward and proud. They also tried to malign his way of life to the people, and alleged as true that he ate with no one and did not accept invitations to a feast. I can give no other reason for this, except that someone truthful, I think, told me when I asked about it, that through his ascetic discipline his head and the mouth of his stomach were badly affected, and so he declined the company of meals. From this especially they wove the greatest slanders against him.

An occasion of hatred toward him on the part of the emperor’s wife also arose, through Severian, bishop of Gabala in Syria. He and Antiochus of Ptolemais — a city of Phoenicia — were at the same time both learned and able to teach in church. But Antiochus spoke very fluently and with a fine voice, so that he was called Chrysostom by some; while Severian, though thought better in thought and in testimonies from the Scriptures, kept the Syrian roughness on his tongue. Antiochus, coming first to Constantinople, was praised for his discourses, collected money and returned to his city. Severian, coming later in rivalry with him, found John well disposed, was often admired speaking in church, was in honour, and became well known to the powerful and to the emperor and empress themselves. When John went away to Asia, he entrusted the church to him; for, as Severian paid him court with flatteries, he thought him a zealous friend. But Severian was more concerned to please his hearers and to delight the people with his words. When John learned this, he was jealous, as they say, Serapion stirring him up about these things. When he had returned from Asia, Severian happened to be passing somewhere; Serapion, seeing him, did not rise, deliberately showing those passing by that he despised the man. Severian, angry at this, cried out: “If Serapion dies a Christian, Christ was not made man.” Accused of this by Serapion, he was driven from the city by John as insolent and a blasphemer against God. For some were brought forward to witness to these things; and Serapion’s friends, concealing all the rest that had been said, testified that he had said only that “Christ was not made man.” John blamed him for this and the rest; for, he said, it does not follow that Christ was not made man if Serapion does not die a cleric. The emperor’s wife, as soon as this had happened, learned it through Severian’s supporters, and at once recalled him from Chalcedon. John, though many begged him, refused to have dealings with him; until, in the church named after the Apostles, the empress laid her son Theodosius on his knees, entreating and adjuring him many times, and barely brought him into friendship with Severian. So I have learned.

Meanwhile a question that had begun not long before was stirred in Egypt, whether one ought to hold God to be in human form. Most of the monks there were of this opinion, from simplicity taking the sacred words without examination, being accustomed to hear of the eyes of God and his face and hands and such things. But those who looked to the meaning hidden in the words held the opposite, and said that those who spoke so blasphemed the divine outright. Theophilus urged in church that one should hold to this belief; and in the letter about the feast of Pascha, which he wrote according to custom, he taught that God must be thought of as incorporeal and foreign to human shape. When this became known to the monks of Egypt, they came to Alexandria; and gathering together they rioted and planned to kill Theophilus as impious. But he appeared at once among them while they were still rioting and said: “So I have seen you, as the face of God.” What was said sufficiently restrained the men; and, laying aside their anger, they said: “Then, if you truly believe this, condemn also the books of Origen, since those who study them are taught to think so.” “But this,” he said, “has long been my decision, and I will do as you think best; for I too blame no less those who hold the views of Origen.” So, beguiling the monks in this way, he broke up the riot.

Perhaps this question too would have been entirely settled then, had not Theophilus, out of private enmity, stirred it up again when it had already ceased, plotting against Ammonius, Dioscorus, Eusebius and Euthymius, called the Tall Brothers. We have learned earlier that these brothers were renowned among those who practised philosophy in Scetis. They had been very dear to him among the monks of Egypt, and he often made them his companions and housemates, and made Dioscorus bishop of Hermopolis. He came to hate them through his enmity to Isidore, whom he had been eager to ordain at Constantinople after Nectarius. For some say that a woman of the Manichean heresy came over to the catholic church; and since she rashly shared in the mysteries before renouncing her former heresy, Theophilus blamed the archpresbyter of the time, with whom he was also otherwise at odds. Peter — for that was his name — maintained that the woman had been admitted to communion according to the law of the church and with Theophilus’s consent, and named Isidore as witness of this. Isidore happened then to have been sent to Rome; but on his return he testified that Peter spoke the truth. Theophilus, angry, as though falsely accused, drove both out of the church. So some say. But from a man worthy of belief, who associated with these monks at that time, I have learned that Theophilus had a twofold cause of ill will toward Isidore: one common to him and Peter the presbyter, because they refused to bear witness that Theophilus’s sister had been named heir; and one his own, because when much money was offered to Isidore as steward of the poor, and Theophilus tried to take it, as having spent heavily on building churches, he would not give way, saying that it was better to restore with fitting care the bodies of the sick, which one may more properly regard as temples of God, for whom the money had been given, than to build walls. But whether for this or for some other reason, Isidore, deprived of communion by Theophilus, went to Scetis, to the monks there as to friends. Ammonius took some of them and came to Theophilus and begged him to restore communion to Isidore. He is said to have promised readily at the time. But as time passed and nothing more was done for them, and Theophilus had plainly been putting them off, they came to him more urgently and demanded that he fulfil his promise. He put one of the monks in the public prison, to strike fear into the others. But he was mistaken in this. For Ammonius with all the monks with him, seeming to the keepers of the prison to have come to bring necessities to those confined, were readily admitted; and once inside, they would not come out. When Theophilus learned this, he sent word calling the men to him. At first they demanded that he come himself and bring them out; for it was not just that those publicly insulted should be released from prison secretly. Later, giving way, they went to him. When they apologized, he dismissed them as though he would not trouble them further; but privately he was stung, indignant, and plotting to do them harm. At a loss what harm to do them, since they owned nothing and disregarded everything but wisdom, he resolved to injure them in their quiet. And since he knew, from their conversations when they were with him, that they blamed those who hold God to be in human form, as holding the views of Origen, he set them at odds with the multitude of monks, which was of the other opinion. From this a dreadful strife prevailed among the monks; and not conducting their debates with one another in order, they did not try to persuade one another but fell to insults. Some called those who defined God as incorporeal Origenists, while the others called those of the opposite belief Anthropomorphites.

Dioscorus and Ammonius and their companions, perceiving the plot, withdrew to Jerusalem; and from there they came to Scythopolis, thinking the place suitable to live in because of the many palm trees, whose leaves they used for the work usual to monks; for about eighty men followed them. Meanwhile Theophilus sent some people to Constantinople, both to prepare slanders against them beforehand, and to oppose them if they petitioned the emperor about anything. When Ammonius and his companions learned this, they sailed to Constantinople, and Isidore with them; and together they strove to have the plots against them examined before the emperor as judge and John the bishop. For they thought that he, being concerned for just freedom of speech, could help them toward justice. He received the men kindly when they came to him, held them in honour, and did not prevent them from praying in church; but he did not think it right to let them share in the mysteries, as it was not lawful to do so before a judgment. He wrote to Theophilus to restore communion to them, as believing rightly about God; or, if their case had to be decided by trial, to send someone he thought fit to act as judge. Theophilus made no reply. After much time had passed, Ammonius and his companions approached the emperor’s wife as she was going out, complaining of what Theophilus had plotted against them. She, perceiving that they had been plotted against, stopped in respect for them; and leaning out of the imperial carriage, she bowed her head and said: “Bless me and pray for the emperor and me, and our children and the empire. I shall soon see to a synod and to Theophilus’s coming.” She was eager about these things. And as a false rumour prevailed in Alexandria that John had communicated with Dioscorus and his companions and was eager to help them in everything, Theophilus planned, if he could, to depose John himself from the episcopate.

Hiding and contriving these things in his mind, he wrote to the bishops in the cities, accusing the books of Origen. Reckoning that it would be of the greatest help to him if he took as partner in his undertakings Epiphanius, bishop of Salamis in Cyprus, a man most distinguished in his time for the reverence of his life, he made him his friend, though he had earlier blamed him for holding God to be in human form. As though he had come by repentance to recognize the right belief, he wrote that he agreed with him, and stirred up accusations against the books of Origen as the cause of such doctrines. Epiphanius, who had long turned away from Origen’s writings, readily agreed with Theophilus’s letter; and meeting with the bishops in Cyprus he forbade the reading of Origen’s works. Writing their decisions to others, and to the bishop of Constantinople, he urged them to hold synods and decree the same. Theophilus, seeing that there was no danger in following Epiphanius, who had many admirers who wondered at whatever he thought because of the virtue of his life, decreed the like with the bishops under him. John did not think the effort over these things worth attention, and put the letters of Epiphanius and Theophilus in second place. Those of the powerful and of the clergy who were ill disposed to him, learning that Theophilus was eager for his deposition, zealously worked with him, and prepared for a very great synod to be held in Constantinople. Theophilus, learning this, hurried still more. He ordered the bishops from Egypt to sail, and wrote to Epiphanius and others of the East to come with speed, while he himself made the journey on foot. Not long after, Epiphanius, sailing first from Cyprus, landed at the place before Constantinople called the Hebdomon, prayed in the church there, and entered the city. John honoured him on his entry by sending the whole clergy to meet him. But Epiphanius plainly had yielded to the accusations against him; and when he was urged to stay in church lodgings, he would not consent. He avoided meeting John; but calling together privately the bishops staying in Constantinople, he showed them what had been decreed against Origen’s works, and persuaded some to vote for it; but most refused. Theotimus, bishop of Scythia, opposed Epiphanius outright. For he said that it was neither holy to insult one who had long since died, nor free of blasphemy to malign the judgment of the older writers and set aside what they had approved. And as he spoke, he brought forward a book of Origen and read from it; and showing that what was read was useful to the churches, he said: “Those who malign these things suffer something absurd; for they run the risk of insulting the things of which the words speak.” John still held Epiphanius in respect, and invited him to hold services with him and to stay with him. But he replied that he would neither stay with him nor pray with him unless he condemned Origen’s works and drove out Dioscorus and his companions. When John put this off, thinking it unjust to do so before a trial, as a service was about to be held in the church named after the Apostles, John’s enemies arranged that Epiphanius should come forward and publicly, before the people, condemn the books of Origen and Dioscorus’s party as holding his views, and at the same time malign the bishop of the city as supporting them. For they thought that in this way they would set him against the multitude. The next day Epiphanius, coming forward for this, was already near the church, when Serapion, sent by John — for he had learned what had been planned the day before — met him and protested that he was acting neither justly nor to his own advantage; for if a disturbance or riot arose among the people, he himself would be in danger as its cause. So he was checked in this attempt.

Meanwhile it happened that the emperor’s little son fell ill; and the mother, fearing lest he suffer harm, sent to Epiphanius and asked him to pray for him. He promised that the sick child would live if she turned away from Dioscorus’s party, who were heretics. The empress said: “If it seems good to God to take my child, let it be so; for the Lord who gave takes away again. But if you were able to raise the dead, your archdeacon would not have died.” For Crispion had died not long before, the brother of Phuscon and Salamanes, the monks mentioned under Valens, whom Epiphanius had had as his companion and appointed his archdeacon. Ammonius and his companions — for so it seemed good to the empress herself — came to Epiphanius. When he asked who they were, Ammonius answered: “The Tall Brothers, Father. But I would gladly learn whether you have ever met our disciples or our writings.” When he said no, Ammonius asked again: “How then have you supposed us to be heretics, having no proof of our belief?” When Epiphanius said he had heard so, he said: “We have experienced the very opposite. For we have often met your disciples and your writings, among which is the one entitled Ancoratus. And when many wished to revile you and malign you as a heretic, we fought for you, as was fitting, as for a father, and defended you. So you ought not, from hearsay, to condemn in their absence those whom you have not condemned by your own conviction, nor return such a recompense to those who speak well of you.” Epiphanius, after speaking with them more moderately at that time, sent the men away. Not long after he sailed for Cyprus, either condemning his journey to Constantinople, or because God had given him an oracle, and, as is likely, had foretold his death to him; for he died at sea before reaching Cyprus. It is said, at any rate, that he said to the bishops who came with him to the sea, as he was about to board the ship: “I leave you the city and the palace and the play-acting; but I am going, for I am in haste, in great haste.” I have learned also the story, still told by many, that John foretold to Epiphanius his death at sea, and he to John his deposition from the episcopate. For while they were at odds, Epiphanius sent word to John: “I hope you will not die a bishop.” And John answered: “Nor I that you will set foot in your city.”

When Epiphanius had sailed away, John, preaching in church, delivered a general censure of women; and the multitude took it as composed in riddles against the emperor’s wife. The bishop’s enemies, taking down the speech, carried it to the empress. She complained to her husband of the insult, and pressed for Theophilus to come quickly and hold a synod. Severian of Gabala, not yet freed from his former vexation, worked with her and helped contrive these things. But whether John came to that discourse just as it happened, or, as some say, suspecting that the empress had persuaded Epiphanius to plot against him, I cannot say exactly. Not long after Theophilus arrived at Chalcedon in Bithynia, and many bishops of other cities, some urged by Theophilus, others summoned by the emperor’s order. Those came most eagerly who had been deprived of their sees in Asia by John, and those who were hostile to him for other reasons in other ways; and the ships from Egypt for which Theophilus had been waiting had already arrived at Chalcedon. When they had all met together there and were deliberating how their attempt against John might go as they wished, Cyrinus, who then led the church in Chalcedon, perhaps favouring Theophilus out of kinship — for he was an Egyptian — and otherwise at odds with John, reviled him greatly. A swift penalty seemed to overtake him for these insults. For Maruthas from Mesopotamia, who was with the bishops, accidentally trod on one of his feet. In pain, he did not cross over to Constantinople with the other priests, though he seemed necessary for the plots against John. Afterwards, growing worse, his leg was often sawn by the physicians; for a putrefaction set in and spread over the whole body, so that the other foot suffered the same by the spread of the disease. And not long after he ended his life in agony.

When Theophilus crossed over, none of the clergy of Constantinople met him; for he was already plainly hostile to the bishop. But the Alexandrian sailors who happened to be in the city, from the other ships and especially from the grain ships, gathered together and received him with eager acclamations. Passing by the church, he went to an imperial house in which lodging had been prepared for him. When he learned that many were hostile to John and ready to accuse him, having arranged the rest as he thought best, he went to the Oak. This is a suburb of Chalcedon, now named after Rufinus the consular, in which there is a palace and a large church, which Rufinus himself built in honour of the apostles Peter and Paul and named the Apostoleion after them; and nearby he settled monks, who made up the clergy of the church. Meeting here with the other bishops, Theophilus made no mention of the books of Origen; but he called the monks from Scetis to repentance, promising neither to bear a grudge nor to harm them. When Theophilus’s supporters shouted at them to ask pardon, and pretended that the synod was interceding for them, the monks, troubled and thinking they ought to do so, with many bishops seated before them, said what they are accustomed to say even when wronged: “Forgive.” Theophilus readily made peace and restored communion to them, and the examination of the wrongs done at Scetis was dissolved. This, I think, would not have happened if Dioscorus and Ammonius had been present with the other monks. But the former had already died and been buried in the church named after the martyr Mocius; and Ammonius, while the synod was being prepared, fell ill; crossing to the Oak, he grew worse from the disease and not long after ended his life, and was thought worthy of a splendid burial by the monks nearby, where he lies. Theophilus, when he learned of it, is said to have wept and said before all that there was no monk in his time like Ammonius, even if he had been a cause of trouble to him. Yet this too went as he wished. The synod summoned all the clergy of Constantinople, threatening deposition against those who disobeyed. It summoned John too to make his defence, and ordered Serapion, Tigrius the presbyter and Paul the reader to appear with him. John, sending some of the clergy friendly to him and Demetrius, bishop of Pessinus, told them that he did not shun judgment, but was ready, if he first learned who the accusers were and examined the indictment, to make his defence before a greater synod; for he would not choose to endure anything foolish and to put up with manifest enemies as judges. When they were angry at him as disobedient to a synod, some of those who had brought the message, in fear, did not return; but Demetrius and those who preferred John’s company went back to him. On the same day a courier and a stenographer came from the palace, urging him to go to the bishops, and them not to delay over the judgment. When, having been summoned four times, he appealed to an ecumenical synod, they deposed him, charging him with nothing else but that, when summoned, he had not obeyed.

When the people in Constantinople learned this toward evening, they were stirred to riot; and running together at dawn to the church, they shouted many things, and that a greater synod ought to judge his case. When those ordered by the emperor pressed to take him into exile, they would not allow it. But he, fearing lest another charge be fabricated against him, either of disobeying the emperor or of stirring up the people, on the third day after his deposition, when the crowd had dispersed, left the church secretly about midday. As he was being led away, the people rioted fiercely, and reviled the emperor and the synod, and especially Theophilus and Severian; for both were the leaders of the plot. Severian, teaching in church at that time, even praised John’s deposition, as for arrogance, even if no other charge had been made. “For other sins,” he said, “the Divine forgives men; but he sets himself against the proud.” At this the multitude was indignant, renewed its anger, and rioted without restraint, and would keep quiet neither in churches nor in the market places; but going with wailing and lamentation as far as the palace itself, they begged for John’s recall. The empress, yielding to the people’s entreaties, persuaded her husband to consent; and quickly sending Brison, her faithful eunuch, she brought John back from Prenetus in Bithynia, declaring that she was innocent of the plots against him, and that she held him in reverence as a priest and the initiator of her children. When he returned he stayed in a suburb belonging to the empress herself near Anaplus; and before the judgment of a greater synod, so that it might be clear that he had been unjustly deprived of his episcopate, he declined for the time to enter the city. But when the people again became angry and reviled the rulers, he was compelled to enter. The people met him with psalms composed for the occasion — most carried lighted candles — and led him to the church. Though he refused and insisted many times that those who had condemned him must first revoke their vote, as is lawful for priests, they compelled him to greet the people with the peace and to sit on the episcopal throne. Compelled, he also delivered an impromptu discourse. Taking his starting point from a most graceful comparison, he hinted that Theophilus had tried to outrage the church under him as the king of the Egyptians had Sarah, the wife of the patriarch Abraham, as the books of the Hebrews relate; and, praising the people, as was fitting, for their zeal and the rulers for their goodwill toward him, he moved the multitude to much applause and acclamation of the emperor and his wife, so that he left his discourse half finished.

Theophilus, at a loss what to do in the circumstances, did not dare, though eager, to accuse John openly of performing priestly acts unlawfully after deposition; for he would already be offending the rulers, who, because of the agitation of the people, had compelled him to return when he refused. But he set up a tribunal for the accusers of Heraclides in his absence, thinking to find in this a more plausible ground for John’s deposition. When John’s friends objected that it was neither lawful nor in accordance with church practice to try one who was absent, and Theophilus’s party maintained the contrary, the remaining multitude of Alexandrians and Egyptians and the people of Constantinople seized on the quarrel and came to blows, so that many were wounded and some even killed. Severian and the other bishops, except those who held with John, in fear left Constantinople in flight. And Theophilus too at once, without delay, though winter was already beginning, fled and sailed with Isaac the monk to Alexandria. By chance he put in from the open sea at Gerae, a small city about fifty stadia from Pelusium. The bishop there having then died, the citizens, as I have learned, had voted that Nilammon should preside over their church, a good man who had reached the summit of monastic philosophy. He lived before the city, having shut himself up in a cell and blocked the door with stones. As he was refusing the priesthood, Theophilus came to him and advised him to accept ordination from him. When he had refused many times and did not persuade him, he said: “Tomorrow, if you please, do it, Father, so that today I may set my affairs in order.” When Theophilus came on the next day as agreed and ordered the door to be opened, Nilammon said: “First let us pray.” Theophilus approved and prayed; and Nilammon, while praying, departed this life. At first this was unknown to Theophilus and those with him standing outside. But when the day was spent and he did not answer, though they called him many times more loudly, they threw down the stones before the door and found the man dead. Having laid him out as was fitting, they thought him worthy of a public burial; and the people of the place built a house of prayer around his tomb, and they still keep the day of his death most notably. So Nilammon died — if one should call it death — which he prayed to undergo before being entrusted with the priesthood, of which he thought himself unworthy through the modesty of his character. John, having returned to Constantinople, appeared still more beloved by the people. And when about sixty bishops, who had then met in Constantinople, had voted that what had been done at the Oak was void and that he should hold the episcopate, he continued to serve as priest, to ordain, and to manage the rest of the church’s affairs as is lawful for those who preside. Then he appointed Serapion bishop of Heraclea in Thrace.

Not long after, a silver statue of the emperor’s wife was set up on a column of porphyry, which still stands to the south of the church, before the house of the great council, on a high platform; and applause and popular shows of dancers and mimes were held there, as was then the custom at the dedication of imperial images. In a homily to the people John censured these things as having been done in insult to the church. The empress, the memory of the former troubles being still fresh, was again filled with anger as one insulted, and was eager for a synod to be held again. He did not give way, but reviling her still more plainly in church inflamed her anger. Then he delivered that celebrated discourse, beginning thus: “Again Herodias rages, again she dances, again she seeks to receive the head of John on a platter.” Not long after other bishops arrived, and Leontius of Ancyra and Acacius of Beroea. When the day of Christ’s nativity came, the emperor did not come to the church as he was accustomed, but sent word to John that he would not communicate with him until he was shown free of the charges. When John said he was ready to make his defence, the accusers, in fear, did not dare to proceed with the charges. The judges thought that one who had been deposed in any way at all should not proceed to a second trial. They examined nothing else, but demanded that John answer only this, that after being deposed he had sat on the episcopal throne before a synod permitted it. When he put forward the vote of those who had communicated with him after the former synod, they did not accept his defence, on the ground that more had voted against him and that for this reason a priestly canon forbade it; but deposed him, pressing a law of men of other belief. For when those of the Arian heresy, having falsely accused Athanasius, took from him the church of the Alexandrians, they made this law in fear of a change of affairs, eager that what they had decided against him should remain unexamined,

John, deposed, no longer held services, but stayed quietly in the bishop’s residence. When the Forty was ending, on the very holy night on which the yearly feast is celebrated in remembrance of the resurrection of Christ, those of his party were driven out of the church, soldiers and his enemies attacking them while they were still performing the rites of initiation. As this happened unexpectedly, there was great uproar about the baptistery, women wailing in their distress, children crying, priests and deacons being beaten and driven out by force in the vestments they wore. And what else was likely to happen in such disorder, the initiated are not unaware; but I must necessarily keep silent, lest an uninitiated person should read this writing. The rest of the multitude, perceiving the plot, left the church the next day and celebrated Pascha in a very spacious public bath named after the emperor Constantius, under bishops and presbyters and the others to whom it is lawful to manage church affairs, who were with the people and held with John. Driven out from there, they met before the city in a place which the emperor Constantine, before he had settled the city, had cleared for watching horse races, enclosing it with a wooden fence; and from then on, now there, now elsewhere as they could, they held assemblies apart, and were called Johannites. About this time a man who was possessed by a demon, or thought to be, was caught with a dagger, prepared to kill John but not yet having attempted the deed. Seized by the crowd as hired for the plot, he was taken to the prefect; but John, sending some of the bishops with him, rescued him before he was tortured. Later a slave of Elpidius the presbyter, who was an open enemy of the deacon, rushed running into the bishop’s house. One of those present, recognizing him, stopped him and asked the reason for his running. Without answering, he at once struck the man with a dagger, and after him another who cried out at the first one’s wound; and he stabbed a third besides. As those present raised an uproar and shouting, he turned and fled. As the pursuers called on those further off to seize the fugitive, a man who was returning from the bath, having bathed, ran up and laid hold of him, and, struck a mortal blow, lay dead. When he had been surrounded and barely hunted down by the crowd, they brought him to the palace; and protesting that the plot was the work of those hostile to John, they shouted that the murderer and those who had persuaded him to it should be punished. The prefect, taking him into custody as if to proceed with the case, dispersed the people’s anger.

From that time the more zealous of the people guarded John night and day, sitting in turns about the bishop’s house. The bishops who had met against him, blaming him for confusing the laws of the church, said that they took upon themselves the judgment concerning him, as being most just, and ordered him to leave the city; for otherwise the people would not keep quiet. When someone came from the emperor and ordered him with threats to do this, he went out secretly from the guards set by the people, complaining only this much, that he was being driven out lawlessly and by force, without being thought worthy of a trial, which by law is granted even to murderers, sorcerers and adulterers. In a small boat he crossed at once to Bithynia, and from there immediately continued on his way. Some of those plotting against him, foreseeing that if the people perceived it they would pursue him and bring him back by force again, shut the doors of the church beforehand. When those in the streets learned it, some ran to the sea as if to overtake him; others, terrified, were driven to flight, since in such uproar and confusion a riot and the emperor’s anger were expected. Those in the church blocked the exits still more, streaming to them and pushing one another. They barely forced the doors open with much violence, some breaking them with stones, others pulling them toward themselves and pushing the crowd behind them backward. Meanwhile fire suddenly took hold of the church on every side, ran through all of it, and spread to the very large house of the senate lying beside it to the south. They blamed one another for the cause: those plotting against John accused those of his party of having done it in anger at the synod’s vote; while the others maintained that they were slandered, and that their enemies were turning their own deed upon them, having planned to burn them together with the church. While the fire went further from evening till dawn and crept on to the materials still standing, those who pursued John took him to Cucusus in Armenia, condemned by the emperor’s letter to live there. Others led away the bishops and clergy who were with him and shut them up in Chalcedon; and others, going round the city, seized and imprisoned those reported to hold with him, and forced them to anathematize him.

Not long after, Arsacius was ordained bishop of Constantinople, the brother of Nectarius who had held this episcopate before John, a gentle man, devout toward the divine. But the reputation he had while a presbyter was spoiled by certain clergy who did what they wished but attributed it to him; and what happened afterwards to the admirers of John discredited him most. For since they no longer thought it tolerable to communicate or pray with those who were with him, as the plotters against John were mixed among them, but, as has been said, met by themselves in the outskirts of the city, he consulted the emperor about this. A tribune, ordered to attack them with soldiers when they were assembled, put the crowd to flight by beating them with clubs and stones, and put in custody those most notable and most zealous for John. Then, as tends to happen when soldiers are allowed to run riot, they stripped women by force of their ornaments, some plundering their necklaces and golden girdles, collars and bracelets, others tearing off their earrings with the lobes. Though there was the greatest confusion and lamentation throughout the city, not even so did they change their love for John. They no longer met publicly; and many went neither to the market nor to the baths; for some even staying at home was not without danger; and, imposing exile on themselves, they left the city, among them other earnest men and good women, among whom was Nicarete of Bithynia, of a distinguished noble family of Nicomedia, renowned for perpetual virginity and virtue of life. Of the earnest women we know, I have found her the most free from pride, ordered in character, speech and manner of life, preferring divine things to worldly all her life, able with courage and prudence to withstand the reversals of hard circumstances; so that she was not indignant when unjustly deprived of a large ancestral fortune; and with the little that was left, by the best management, though she reached old age, she had what was needed for herself and her household and supplied others generously. Being fond of beauty from a kindly zeal, she prepared medicines of every kind for the needs of the sick poor; with these she often helped many of her acquaintance who had got nothing from the usual physicians; for with some divine aid what she undertook came to a good end. And in short, of the earnest women of our time I know no other who advanced so far in character and dignity and other virtue. But, such as she was, she was hidden from the many; for through modesty of manners and philosophy she always strove to remain unknown; so that she neither sought to advance to the rank of deaconess, nor, though John often urged her, ever chose to lead the church’s virgins. When the greatest fear had fallen on all, since it was clear that the people would riot no more, the prefect of the city came forward publicly as if to investigate the burning of the church and the senate house, and punished many severely. For being a pagan, as one exulting in the calamities of the church, he took pleasure in what had happened.

At that time also a reader named Eutropius was brought forward to inform on those who had set the fire; and though he was torn on the sides and cheeks with ox-hide thongs, clubs and claws, and besides this endured torches applied to his body — young and tender-skinned as he was — he confessed that he knew nothing. After the tortures he was shut up in prison, where he died not long after. It is worth handing down in writing the dream that occurred concerning him. To Sisinnius, the bishop of the Novatian heresy, as he slept, a man most conspicuous for beauty and stature seemed to stand by the altar of their church, which he had built in honour of Stephen the first martyr, and to be distressed at the scarcity of good men, as if he had gone round the whole city for this and found no one but Eutropius. Struck by the vision, Sisinnius told the dream to one of the most trusted presbyters under him and ordered him to search out who the man was. He, aptly conjecturing that such a man was likely to be among those lately tortured before the prefect, went round the prisons and asked whether there was any Eutropius in them. Finding him, he talked with him, told him the bishop’s dream, and with tears begged him to pray for him. So it was with Eutropius. Courage appeared also in these calamities in Olympias the deaconess. For when she was brought to court on this charge, and the prefect asked why she had set fire to the church, she answered: “This is not the purpose of my life; for I have spent a great fortune on the restoration of temples of God.” When he said that he knew her life, she said: “Then step into the place of the accuser, and let another judge us.” Since the accusation had no witnesses, the prefect, having nothing he could justly charge, passed somewhat more gently to another charge; and as if giving advice, he blamed her and the other women for folly in refusing communion with the bishop, when they could repent and be rid of their troubles. The others, in fear, yielded to the prefect’s command. But Olympias said: “It is not just that one who has been convicted by slander before the crowd, but in the courts has been proved guilty of none of the charges, should be dragged into a defence against charges not under trial. Allow me, then, to bring forward advocates for the former indictment. For even if I am unlawfully forced, I will not communicate with those with whom I ought not, nor do what is not lawful for the pious.” When he did not persuade her to communicate with Arsacius, he released her for the time to instruct advocates; but at another hearing he fined her a great sum of gold, thinking thus to change her mind. But she, disregarding the money, did not give way, and leaving Constantinople she lived at Cyzicus. At that time too Tigrius the presbyter was stripped of his clothes, scourged on the back, and stretched out bound hand and foot so that his joints were dislocated. He was a barbarian by race, a eunuch but not from birth; having first been a slave in the house of one of the powerful, and having been praised by his owner, he received his freedom. Advanced to the rank of presbyter, he proved in time to be most fair in character, gentle, and, if anyone, most kindly to the needy and to strangers. Such were the things in Constantinople. Meanwhile, when Siricius had completed fifteen years in the episcopate of the Romans and Anastasius three after him, Innocent filled this succession. Flavian also died, not having agreed to John’s deposition; and Porphyry succeeded to the church of the Antiochenes. Since he voted with those who had acted against John, many in Syria separated from the church there; and holding their own assemblies, they underwent troubles and very many hardships. For because of communion with Arsacius and this Porphyry and Theophilus the bishop of Alexandria, through the efforts of the powerful at the palace, a law was made that those of right belief should not assemble outside the churches, and that those who did not communicate with them should be expelled.

About this time, as one can generally find happening in the dissensions of the priests, public affairs too experienced uproar and turmoil. The Huns crossed the Ister and ravaged Thrace. The robbers in Isauria, gathered in great numbers, did harm to the cities and villages in between as far as Caria and Phoenicia. Stilicho, the general of Honorius, a man who had come to as great power as anyone ever, having the young men of the Romans and of the barbarians obedient to him, and being at enmity with the officials of Arcadius, planned to set the two courts at odds with each other. Having obtained from Honorius for Alaric, the leader of the Goths, the rank of a Roman general, he set him against Illyricum; and sending ahead Jovius, appointed their prefect, he agreed to join them with the Roman soldiers, so as supposedly to bring the subjects there too under the rule of Honorius. Alaric, taking those under him from the barbarian land bordering Dalmatia and Pannonia where he was living, came to the Epiruses; and after staying there a long time, returned to Italy. For when about to leave, he was held back, as Stilicho agreed, by letters …

When the bishop of the Romans learned what had been done against John, he was angry; and he condemned those responsible, and, eager to gather an ecumenical synod, he wrote to John, and separately to the clergy of Constantinople. I found both letters, from the language of the Romans, and have set them down here. They run as follows: “Innocent to the beloved brother John. Although one who is blameless ought to expect all good things and ask mercy from God, nevertheless, since we too counsel forbearance, the fitting letter has been sent through Cyriacus the deacon, so that insult may not prevail more in crushing a good conscience than hope does. For you, the teacher and shepherd of so many peoples, need not be taught that the best men are always and often tested, whether they remain in the vigour of patience and fall under no toil of suffering. And it is truly a thing — conscience — against all that befalls unjustly; unless one overcomes by enduring, he gives proof of a bad opinion. For he ought to endure all things who trusts first in God and then in his own conscience; especially since a good and noble man can be exercised in patience but not overcome, since the divine Scriptures guard his mind. The divine readings, which we hand on to the peoples, abound in examples, which have shown that almost all the saints were afflicted in various ways and continually, and tested as if in a trial, and so came to the crown of patience. Let your conscience itself console your love, most honoured brother, which in afflictions has the consolation of virtue. For under the oversight of Christ the Lord, the conscience, cleansed, will stand in the harbour of peace.” “Bishop Innocent to the presbyters, deacons, all the clergy and the people of the church of Constantinople under Bishop John, beloved brothers, greeting. From the letters of your love, which you sent through Germanus the presbyter and Cassian the deacon, I have learned with anxious care the scene of evils that you set before our eyes; and by reading them again and again I have seen with what hardships and toils the faith is suffering. This thing only the consolation of patience heals. For our God will soon give an end to such afflictions, and it will profit you to have borne these things. But we have recognized, and praise your purpose, the very consolation needed, set at the beginning of the letter of your love, containing many testimonies to endurance. For you have anticipated in your letters the consolation which we ought to have sent you. For our Lord is wont to give this patience to those who suffer, so that even in afflictions the servants of Christ may console themselves, reckoning within themselves that what they suffer happened before to the saints. And we too can offer you consolation from your own letters. For we are not strangers to suffering with you, since we too are punished in you. For who can bear what is done amiss by those who ought most of all to be zealous for the calm of peace and for concord itself? Now, in a reversed manner, innocent priests are thrust from the presidency of their own churches. This our brother and fellow minister John, your bishop, was the first to suffer unjustly, without obtaining any hearing. No charge is brought, none is heard. And what is this forbidden device? So that no ground for judgment may arise or be sought, others are installed in the places of living priests — as though those who start from such an offence could be judged by anyone to hold or have done anything rightly. For we have never known such things to be dared by our fathers, but rather to have been prevented, in that no one was given authority to ordain another in the place of one living; for an ordination that is unapproved cannot take the honour from a priest, since he cannot even be a bishop who is unjustly installed. As to the observance of the canons, we write that one must follow those defined at Nicaea, which alone the catholic church ought to follow and recognize. But if others are put forward by some, which differ from the canons of Nicaea and are shown to have been composed by heretics, these are rejected by the catholic bishops. For what was invented by heretics may not be attached to the catholic canons; for by contrary and lawless canons they wish to diminish the counsel of those at Nicaea. We say, then, not only that these should not be followed, but rather that they are to be condemned with heretical and schismatic doctrines, as happened before at the synod of Sardica by the bishops before us. For it would be more fitting for things well done to be condemned than for things done directly against the canons to have any validity, most honoured brothers. But what shall we do against such things at present? A synodal examination is necessary, which we said long ago should be gathered. For it alone can calm the movements of such storms; and to obtain it, it is useful meanwhile to commit the cure to the will of the great God and of his Christ, our Lord. All that has now been stirred up by the envy of the devil for the testing of the faithful will be calmed. We ought to despair of nothing from the Lord in the firmness of faith. For we too are considering much how an ecumenical synod may be gathered, so that by the will of God the turbulent movements may cease. Let us then endure meanwhile, fortified by the wall of patience, and hope that all things will be restored by the help of our God. All that you have said you are undergoing we have also learned before by full inquiry, when our fellow bishops came running to Rome, though at different times — that is, Demetrius, Cyriacus, Eulysius and Palladius, who are with us.”

Such were Innocent’s letters; from which one can see what opinion he had about John. Meanwhile an enormous hail fell in Constantinople and its suburbs; and on the fourth day after this the emperor’s wife died. And these things, it seemed to most people, happened because God was angry on John’s account. For Cyrinus too, the bishop of Chalcedon, who had most reviled him, not long before, from the misfortune that had befallen his foot, had both legs sawn off by the physicians and died pitiably. Arsacius also died, having governed the church of Constantinople a short time. While many were seeking his succession, in the fourth month after his death Atticus was ordained, a presbyter of the clergy of Constantinople, one of John’s plotters. He was by race from Sebasteia in Armenia, and from youth had been trained in the philosophic life by monks of the Macedonian heresy, who were then distinguished in this philosophy about Sebasteia, being of the school of Eustathius, whom we learned earlier to have been bishop there and leader of excellent monks. On coming to manhood he went over to the catholic church. Prudent more by nature than by learning, he was skilled in affairs, able both to plot and to withstand plots, and of an engaging character, so that he was liked by many. His sermons in church were moderate, so that his hearers thought them neither worth writing down nor altogether without learning. For being cultivated, whenever he had leisure, he studied the most renowned writers of the Greeks; and by seeming to be untaught when he spoke about them, he often escaped the notice even of the learned. He was said to be zealous toward those of his own belief and fearsome to those of other belief, and able easily to put fear into them when he wished, and again, changing, to appear gentle. Such was the man, they say who knew him. John, even in exile, became more famous. For having abundance of money, since many others brought him gifts and Olympias the deaconess sent them, he ransomed many captives from the Isaurians and restored them to their families; he supplied necessities to many in need, and those who needed no money he won over by his words; and he was exceedingly well liked by the Armenians among whom he was, and by their neighbours. Very many came to him from Antioch and the rest of Syria and Cilicia.

Innocent, bishop of Rome, eager, as he had written before, for John’s return, sent five bishops and two presbyters of the church of the Romans, with the bishops from the East who had come as envoys about this, to Honorius and the emperor Arcadius, to ask for a synod and a time and place for it. Those in Constantinople who were hostile to John framed an accusation, as though this had been done in insult to the empire there; and they contrived that these men, as having troubled a foreign jurisdiction, should be sent away in disgrace, and that John himself, by the emperor’s decree, should be moved further away to Pityus; and soldiers quickly came and carried this out. They say that as he was being led by them, on the way he foresaw the day on which he was to die, the martyr Basiliscus having appeared to him at Comana in Armenia; and there, being no longer able to endure the journey — for he suffered in his head and could not bear the sun’s rays — he departed this life by illness.

Such were the events concerning John. Not long after his death, when Atticus was already completing the third year of his episcopate of Constantinople, in the consulship of Bassus and Philip, Arcadius died, leaving as successor to the rule his son Theodosius, just weaned, and daughters, Pulcheria, Arcadia and Marina, still very young. In this, it seems to me, God showed above all that piety alone suffices rulers for their safety, and that without it armies and an emperor’s strength and the rest of his power are nothing. For since the divine power over all things foresaw that the emperor would be most pious, it appointed Pulcheria his sister as guardian of his rule. She, not yet in her fifteenth year, received a mind most wise and divine beyond her age. First she dedicated her virginity to God and trained her sisters in the same life, so that she might bring no other man into the palace and remove every occasion of jealousy and plotting. Confirming her decision, and making God himself, the priests and all the subjects witnesses of what she had resolved, she dedicated in the church of Constantinople, on behalf of her own virginity and her brother’s rule, a holy table, a marvellous work of gold and precious stones, most beautiful to behold; and on the front of the table she inscribed these things, so that they might be plain to all. Taking up the care of the government, she ruled the Roman world excellently and in great order, taking good counsel, so as to carry out quickly what had to be done, and writing it; for she was exactly trained to speak and write correctly in the language of the Romans and of the Greeks. She referred the credit for what was done to her brother; and she took care that he should be brought up as royally as possible in the studies suited to his age. Horsemanship and practice in arms and in letters he was taught by experts; but he was trained by his sister to be orderly and kingly in his public appearances, learning how to wear his robe, how to sit and walk, to restrain laughter, to be gentle or fearsome as occasion required, and to inquire fittingly of those who came with requests. Above all she led him to piety, accustoming him to pray continually, to frequent the churches, to honour the houses of prayer with offerings and treasures, and to hold in honour the priests and other good men and those who live the philosophic life according to the law of the Christians. Moreover, when religion was in danger of being disturbed by spurious doctrines, she provided against it zealously and wisely; and we shall find her chiefly responsible that new heresies have not prevailed in our times, as we shall learn later. With what great awe she worshipped the divine, it would take long to tell — how many houses of prayer she built magnificently, how many hostels for the poor and strangers and monastic communities she founded, appointing permanent funds for these and the maintenance of those who live in them. If anyone wishes to test the truth of these things, not trusting my words, he will learn that I do not write them falsely or to gain favour, if he goes through the record of such things, kept in writing by the stewards of her household, and learns from the documents whether the facts agree with what is written. And if these alone do not suffice for belief, let God himself confirm it, who has surely found her pleasing because of her conduct, so that he readily hears her prayers and often shows her beforehand what is to be done. I would never say that the love of God comes to people unless they make themselves worthy of it by their deeds. But the many particular things that show the emperor’s sister to be dear to God I will willingly pass over for now, lest anyone blame me for having turned to the rule of encomium while engaged in other matters. But one thing, which seems to me both proper to church history and a plain proof of her love of God, I will tell here, even though it happened later. It is as follows.

A certain woman named Eusebia, a deaconess of the Macedonian heresy, had a house and garden before the wall of Constantinople, and kept there sacred relics of the forty soldiers who were martyred at Sebasteia in Armenia in the time of Licinius. When about to die, she left the place to monks of her own belief, and begged them with oaths to bury her there, and above her head, at the top of her coffin, to hollow out a separate receptacle and lay the relics of the martyrs with her, and to tell no one. They did so. And so that the martyrs might receive fitting veneration while those outside knew nothing, according to the agreement with Eusebia they built a house of prayer underground about her tomb, and openly a dwelling above it with its floor covered with baked bricks, and from it a hidden descent to the martyrs. After this Caesarius, one of the powerful men of the time, who had advanced to the rank of consul and of prefect, buried his wife, when she died, beside Eusebia’s coffin; for they had agreed on this while still alive, being exceedingly dear to each other and of one mind about doctrine and religion. Hence Caesarius had a pretext for acquiring this place, so that he too might be buried near his wife. The monks mentioned moved elsewhere, having said nothing about the martyrs. When the house afterwards fell down, and earth and rubbish were thrown on it, the whole place there was levelled; for Caesarius himself raised a magnificent temple to God there in honour of the martyr Thyrsus. It seems that God willed the place to be thus carefully obliterated and so much time to pass, preparing a more wonderful and more glorious finding of the martyrs and of the love of God of her who found them. And this was the emperor’s sister, the empress Pulcheria. For the wonderful Thyrsus appeared to her three times, disclosed those hidden underground, and ordered them to be moved beside himself, so as to share the same position and honour; and the Forty themselves, clothed in splendid cloaks, made themselves known to her. The thing seemed beyond belief and altogether impossible; for neither the older clergy there, though often asked, nor anyone else could point out the martyrs. At last, when all were at a loss, God brought to the mind of a certain Polychronius, a presbyter, who had once been of Caesarius’s household, the monks who had formerly lived in the place. Going to the clergy of the Macedonians, he inquired about them. All had already died; but finding one alone surviving, as if kept alive for the disclosure of the martyrs sought for, he begged him to say whether he had seen sacred relics hidden under the place in question. When Polychronius saw him somewhat refusing, because of the agreement with Eusebia, and told him of the divine appearance, the empress’s urgings and their own perplexity, he admitted that God had shown the ruler the truth. For being a young boy then, being taught the monastic life under the old men who led it, he knew exactly that martyrs lay about the coffin; but he did not know whether they were buried under the sanctuary or elsewhere, since, much time having passed, the former appearance of the place had changed to what is now seen. “But I,” said Polychronius, “have not had the same experience. For I remember being present at the burial of Caesarius’s wife; and reckoning from the highway lying nearby, I conjecture that she lies about the ambo” — this is the readers’ platform. “Then,” the monk answered, “Eusebia’s coffin too must be sought beside Caesarius’s wife; for while alive they were mostly together, and when dying they agreed to have their tombs together.” When it became necessary to dig according to what had been said and to track the sacred relics, the empress, learning of it, ordered the work to begin. When the place about the ambo had been dug up, the tomb of Caesarius’s wife was found, as Polychronius had conjectured; and a little way off to the side a pavement of baked bricks, and a marble slab equal in measure to their enclosure, under which the coffin of Eusebia herself was revealed, and the oratory about it, very fittingly faced with white and purple marble. The lid of the coffin was worked like a holy table; and at the top, where the martyrs lay, a small hole appeared. One of the emperor’s household standing by let down through the hole a thin rod he happened to be holding; and drawing it up he brought it to his nose and smelled a fragrant perfume. From this good hopes arose in the workers and those overseeing them; and quickly uncovering the coffin, they found Eusebia. The part of the tomb projecting at her head, carved out in the shape of a chest, was covered within by its own lid; and iron laid along its edges on each side held it, fixed with lead. In the middle the same hole appeared again and showed still more clearly that the martyrs were inside. When this was reported, the empress and the bishop ran together to the martyr’s shrine; and at once, the iron fastenings having been removed by craftsmen, the lid was easily drawn off. Under it much perfume was found, and in the perfume two silver caskets in which the sacred relics lay. Then the empress gave thanks to God for having been thought worthy of so great a manifestation and of finding the sacred relics; and afterwards, honouring the martyrs with a most costly casket, she laid them beside the divine Thyrsus, a public festival being held, as was fitting, with due honour, procession and psalm-singing, at which I myself was present. That these things happened so, those present at the festival will bear witness; for almost all are still alive, since it happened much later, when Proclus governed the church of Constantinople.

It is said that in other matters too God often revealed the future to the empress beforehand, and that very many things bearing witness to the love of God happened concerning her and her sisters. For they too live in the same way, zealous for the priests and the houses of prayer, and generous to strangers in need and to the poor. Their table and their going out are for the most part the same for all; they sing hymns to God together night and day; and, as is the rule of admirable women, they busy themselves with weaving and such works. For though they are princesses, born and brought up in the palace, they thought ease and idleness unworthy of the holy virginity they pursue, and banished them from their life. Because of this, God being plainly gracious and fighting for their house, the ruler grew in age and in power, and every plot and war raised against him was dissolved of itself.

At that time, at any rate, the Persians, who had been roused to battle, made a hundred years’ truce with the Romans. Stilicho, commander of Honorius’s army, being suspected of being eager to proclaim his son Eucherius emperor in the East, was killed by the soldiers at Ravenna. Earlier, while Arcadius was still alive, he had become hostile to his officials and had planned to set the two courts against each other. Having obtained for Alaric, the leader of the Goths, the rank of a Roman general, he urged him to seize Illyricum; and sending ahead Jovius, appointed its prefect, he agreed that he himself would join them with the Roman soldiers, so as supposedly to bring the subjects there under the rule of Honorius. Alaric, taking those under him from the barbarian land bordering Dalmatia and Pannonia where he was living, led them to the Epiruses; and having stayed there a long time, he returned to Italy without success. For when he was about to depart according to the agreement, he was held back by letters of Honorius. When Arcadius died, Honorius set out, out of concern for his nephew, to go to Constantinople and appoint faithful officials for his safety and rule; for regarding him as a son, he feared lest he suffer something because of his youth, being easily exposed to plots. But when he was already about to set out, Stilicho persuaded Honorius to remain in Italy, saying this was necessary because a certain Constantine had lately made himself usurper at Arles. Taking one of the standards which the Romans call the labarum, and receiving letters of the emperor entrusting to him the journey to the East, Stilicho was about to set out with four units of soldiers. Meanwhile a rumour ran that he was plotting against the emperor and preparing to make his son usurper, with the powerful working with him; the soldiers rioted and killed the prefect of Italy and that of the Gauls, and the generals and others holding offices in the palace. And he himself was killed by the soldiers at Ravenna, a man who, if anyone ever, had come to great power and had, so to speak, all, barbarians and Romans, obedient to him. So Stilicho, suspected of being ill disposed toward the court, perished thus; and Eucherius his son was also killed.

At the same time it happened that the Huns, encamped in Thrace, withdrew disgracefully, losing most of their men, though no one fought against them or pursued them. For Uldis, the leader of the barbarians along the Ister, having crossed the river with a very large army, encamped in Thrace; and having taken Castra Martis, a city of Moesia, by treachery, he overran the rest of Thrace from there, and out of arrogance would not make a treaty with the Romans. When the commander of the troops in Thrace was discussing peace with him, he pointed to the rising sun and said that it would not be hard for him, if he wished, to subdue all the land it looked upon. While he was boasting so, and demanding as much tribute as he pleased, on these terms to have peace with the Romans or war, and the matter was desperate, God showed what providence he has for the present reign. For not long after, conversations took place with the officers of Uldis’s own following about the Roman constitution, the emperor’s kindness, and what and how great rewards he gives to excellent and good men. Not without God, falling in love with these things, they went over to the Romans and encamped with them, together with those ranked under them. Uldis barely escaped to the other side of the river, having lost many, and above all those called the Sciri — a barbarian nation, quite numerous before it fell into such a disaster. For being left behind in the flight, some of them were killed, while others were taken alive and sent in chains to Constantinople. Since the officials thought it best to distribute them, lest, being numerous, they cause some disturbance, they sold some for small prices, and gave many to serve free, on condition that they never set foot in Constantinople or anywhere in Europe, and that the place assigned to them be separated by the sea between. Of these a great number were left unsold and were ordered to live in different places; and I have seen many in Bithynia near the mountain called Olympus, living scattered and farming the hills and foothills there.

So the eastern part of the empire was free of enemies and was governed in great order, contrary to everyone’s expectation, though the ruler was still young. But the West was in disorder, as many usurpers rose up. Then, after the killing of Stilicho, Alaric, the leader of the Goths, having sent envoys about peace to Honorius and failed, seized and besieged Rome, posting many barbarians on the river Tiber, so that provisions could not be brought in to those in the city from Portus — for so they call the Roman harbour. The siege being prolonged, and famine and pestilence pressing the city, and many slaves, especially barbarians by race, deserting to Alaric, it seemed necessary to the pagans of the senate to sacrifice on the Capitol and in the other temples. For some Tuscans, summoned for this by the prefect of the city, promised to drive away the barbarians with thunderbolts and thunders; and they boasted that they had done such a thing at Narnia, a city of Tuscany, which Alaric had not taken in passing on his way to Rome. But the outcome showed that these things would be of no use to the city. For to the sensible it appeared that these things befell the Romans through the wrath of God, as punishment for the sins they had formerly committed unjustly, through great ease and licentiousness, against themselves and strangers. It is said, at any rate, that a good monk in Italy urged Alaric, as he hastened toward Rome, to spare the city and not become the cause of such great evils; and that he said that he was not attempting this willingly, but that someone continually troubled him and forced him, ordering him to sack Rome — which at last he did. While he was besieging it, having received very many gifts, he lifted the siege for a time, the Romans agreeing to persuade the emperor to receive him into peace.

When an embassy was sent about this, those working against Alaric in the palace hindered the peace. After this, when Innocent, the bishop of the Romans, had gone as an envoy, Alaric, summoned by a letter of the emperor, came to Ariminum, a city two hundred and ten stadia from Ravenna. There, while he had his tents before the walls, Jovius, being prefect of Italy, came to terms with him and informed the emperor of Alaric’s request, and that he ought to honour him with the commission of general of both forces. The emperor gave Jovius as prefect authority over the money and provisions he asked for, but replied that he would never give him the rank. Jovius, unwisely, waiting in Alaric’s tent for the one sent from the palace, ordered the emperor’s decision to be read in the presence of the barbarians. Alaric, angry at the refusal of the rank as insulted, at once sounded the trumpet and marched on Rome. Jovius, fearing lest he be suspected by the emperor of supporting Alaric, falling into more unwise conduct than before, himself swore by the emperor’s safety, and made the other officials swear, never to make peace with Alaric. But not long after the barbarian changed his mind and declared that he needed no rank, but would offer himself as an ally for a moderate gift of grain and a dwelling in places not much prized by the Romans.

When he had twice failed in an embassy about this through some bishops, he came to Rome and besieged the city; and having taken Portus on one side, he forced the Romans to elect as emperor Attalus, who was then prefect of the city. When Romans had been appointed to the other offices, Alaric was made general of both forces, and Ataulf, his wife’s brother, commander of the cavalry called domestics. Attalus, calling the senate together, delivered a long and very elaborate speech, promising to preserve the ancestral rights of the senate and to make Egypt and the whole eastern empire subject to the Italians. Boasting so, he was not to be called emperor even for a full year. Led on by certain diviners who promised that he would take Africa without a battle, he neither obeyed Alaric, who proposed to send a moderate force to Carthage to destroy Honorius’s officials if they resisted him, nor John, whom he had put in charge of his palace staff, who said that Constans, whom he had appointed to go to Libya, ought, as though sent by Honorius, by the usual letter which they call a decree, to remove from office Heraclian, then entrusted with the command of the soldiers in Africa. Perhaps this would have succeeded, for the affairs of Attalus were not yet known to those in Libya. But when Constans, as the diviners had decided, sailed to Carthage, Attalus was so harmed in mind that he did not even think fit to doubt, but was persuaded that he had the Africans as subjects according to the diviners’ prediction, and marched against Ravenna. As soon as it was announced that he had come to Ariminum with the Roman army and the barbarians, Honorius wrote to him as emperor and sent an embassy through those holding the highest offices about him, content to have him as partner in the empire. Attalus refused partnership in power, but sent word to Honorius to choose an island or place where he wished and live by himself, being granted all imperial service. Affairs having come to this, so that Honorius kept ships ready to sail, if necessary, to his nephew, unexpectedly about four thousand soldiers in six units sailed by night to Ravenna from the East; to them he entrusted the guarding of the walls, fearing the readiness of the local soldiers for treachery. Meanwhile Heraclian killed Constans, set guards in the harbours and on the coasts of Africa, and prevented the merchants’ ships from sailing to Rome. As famine then seized the Romans, they sent envoys about it to Attalus. He, at a loss what to do, returned to Rome as if to take counsel with the senate. The famine prevailed so far that they used chestnuts instead of grain, and some were suspected of having tasted human flesh. Alaric advised sending five hundred barbarians against Heraclian; but the senate and Attalus thought that Africa should not be entrusted to barbarians. When it was plain that God opposed the reign of Attalus, Alaric, seeing that he laboured in vain on a matter not in his power, came to terms with Honorius about deposing him, receiving promises. All having gathered before the city, Attalus laid aside the insignia of empire, and his officials laid aside their belts with him; and Honorius granted pardon to all for what had happened, each to keep the honour and rank he had held before. Attalus, with his son, stayed with Alaric, not thinking it safe for the time being to live among the Romans.

At these events the pagans and the Christians of the Arian heresy were not a little vexed. For the former, judging from Attalus’s purpose and his former upbringing, thought he would openly turn pagan and restore the ancestral temples, festivals and sacrifices; while the latter thought they would again hold the churches as under Constantius and Valens, if he held the empire securely; for he had been baptized by Sigesarius, the bishop of the Goths, and for this reason was pleasing to them all and to Alaric. Not long after, Alaric, having occupied the Alps — this is a place about sixty stadia from Ravenna — came into talks with the emperor about peace. But a certain Sarus, a barbarian by race, highly trained in war, who had about him only some three hundred men, all well disposed and excellent, being suspect to Alaric through a former enmity, reckoned that a treaty between the Romans and the Goths would not be to his advantage. Suddenly returning with his men, he killed some of the barbarians. Thrown by this into anger and fear, Alaric turned back by the same road; and besieging Rome, he took it by treachery, and allowed his multitudes to seize the wealth of the Romans, each as he could, and to plunder all the houses; but out of reverence for the apostle Peter he ordered that the church about his tomb, which is large and encloses much space, should be a sanctuary. This was the reason that Rome was not utterly destroyed; for those saved there — and they were many — inhabited the city again.

As was likely, many things happened at the capture of so great a city; but I will record what seemed to me then worthy of church history. For it shows the pious act of a barbarian man and the courage of a Roman woman in guarding her chastity. Both were Christians, but not of the same heresy; for he was zealous for the faith of Arius, she for that of those who met at Nicaea. A young soldier of Alaric’s, seeing that she was very beautiful, was overcome by her beauty and tried to drag her to intercourse. When she pulled back and struggled not to suffer any outrage, he drew his sword and threatened to kill her; and with restraint, being in love with her, he struck her neck lightly. Streaming with much blood, she offered her neck to the sword, reckoning it more desirable to die in chastity than to live having known another man after her lawful husband. When the barbarian came at her again more fearfully and accomplished nothing more, admiring her chastity he led her to the church of the apostle Peter, and handing her over to the guardians of the church, with six gold pieces for her keep, ordered them to keep her for her husband.

About this time, when many usurpers rose up in the western empire, some falling at one another’s hands, others being unexpectedly captured, they bore witness to no ordinary love of God for Honorius. For first the soldiers in Britain, in revolt, proclaimed Mark usurper; after him Gratian, having killed Mark; and when he too was murdered by them after not more than four months, they elected Constantine, thinking that because he had this name he would hold the empire securely; for it seems that for such a reason they also chose the others for usurpation. Constantine, crossing from Britain to Bononia, a city of Gaul lying by the sea, won over the soldiers among the Gauls and Aquitanians, and gained the subjects there for himself, as far as the Alps between Italy and Gaul which the Romans call the Cottian. Constans, the elder of his sons, on whom he later put the dress of emperor, he then proclaimed Caesar and sent to Spain. He, having seized the province, appointed officials of his own, and ordered Didymus and Verenianus, the kinsmen of Honorius, to be brought to him in chains. They, at odds with each other at first, became of one mind when in danger; and gathering a multitude of peasants and slaves, they took the field together in Lusitania, and killed many of the soldiers sent by the usurper to arrest them.

Afterwards, when allies had joined the enemy, they were taken alive, led away with their wives, and later put to death. Their brothers Theodosiolus and Lagodius, living in other provinces, fled their homeland and were saved, Theodosiolus to Italy to the emperor Honorius, Lagodius to Theodosius in the East. Constans, having accomplished this, returned to his father, having set a garrison of his own soldiers over the pass into Spain, which he did not allow the Spaniards, though they asked it, to guard according to ancient custom. This later became the cause of the ruin of those there. For when the power of Constantine collapsed, the Vandals and Alans, barbarian nations, recovering themselves, seized the pass, took many forts and cities of the Spaniards and Gauls, and the usurper’s officials. Constantine, meanwhile seeming to fare as he wished, made his son Constans emperor instead of Caesar, and planned to seize Italy; and passing the Cottian Alps, he came to Liberona, a city of Liguria. But when about to cross the Eridanus, he turned back by the same road, learning of the death of Allobichus. For this man, being Honorius’s general, was suspected of working to secure the whole western rule for Constantine, and it happened that he was then killed as he was leading the way, as was the custom, for the ruler returning from a procession. Then the emperor at once dismounted from his horse and publicly offered thanks to God, as freed from a manifest plotter. Constantine, fleeing, seized Arles; and at the same time Constans his son, fleeing from Spain. For when the power of Constantine collapsed, the Suebi, Vandals and Alans, recovering themselves, eagerly seized the Pyrenees mountains, hearing that the country was prosperous and very rich; and since those entrusted by Constans with the guarding of the pass had neglected it, they passed into Spain.

Meanwhile Gerontius, the best of Constantine’s generals, became hostile to him; and thinking Maximus, his intimate friend, suitable for usurpation, he put the imperial dress on him and let him live at Tarraco. He himself marched against Constantine, arranging on the way for his son Constans, who was at Vienne, to be killed. When Constantine learned of Maximus’s affairs, he sent his general Edobichus beyond the Rhine to obtain the alliance of the Franks and Alamanni, and entrusted to Constans his son the guarding of Vienne and the cities there. Gerontius, marching to Arles, besieged the city. But not long after, when an army of Honorius came against the usurper, led by Constantius, the father of the emperor Valentinian, he fled at once with a few soldiers; for most went over to Constantius. The soldiers in Spain, thinking Gerontius contemptible because of his flight, resolved to kill him; and, armed, they ran upon his house by night. He, with one Alan, his friend, and a few slaves, shooting from above, killed more than three hundred soldiers. When the missiles ran out, the slaves fled, letting themselves down from the building secretly. Gerontius, though able to save himself in the same way, would not choose it, held back by his love for Nonnichia, his wife. About dawn, when the soldiers set fire to the house, having no further hope of safety, he cut off the head of the Alan who was with him, at the Alan’s own wish. After this, his own wife lamenting and with tears thrusting herself on the sword, and asking to die by her husband before coming into the power of others, and begging to receive this last gift from him — the woman, showing a courage worthy of her religion, for she was a Christian, died thus, handing down to time a memory of herself stronger than forgetfulness. Gerontius struck himself three times with the sword; and when he perceived that he had not received a mortal blow, he drew the dagger at his thigh and drove it into his heart.

Constantine, besieged by Honorius’s army, still held out against the siege, since it had been announced that Edobichus would come with a very great allied force. This frightened the generals not a little. When they had deliberated whether to return to Italy or to try the war, and decided on the latter, as Edobichus was reported near, they crossed the river Rhône. Constantius with the infantry awaited the enemy’s approach, while Ulfilas, Constantius’s fellow general, hidden not far off with the cavalry, escaped notice. When the enemy, having passed Ulfilas’s army, were about to come to blows with Constantius’s men, a signal was given; Ulfilas suddenly appeared and charged the enemy’s rear. At once there was a rout; some fled, others were killed, and most, laying down their arms, asked for pardon and were spared. Edobichus, mounting a horse, fled to an estate, to Ecdicius its owner, who had formerly received very many benefits from Edobichus and was thought a friend. But he cut off his head and brought it to Honorius’s generals, in the hope of great gifts and honour. Constantius ordered the head to be received, saying that the state was grateful to Ecdicius for Ulfilas’s deed; but when he was eager to stay with them, he ordered him to depart, not thinking that the company of an evil host would be good for himself or the army. And he, having dared a most unholy murder of a friend and guest in misfortune, went away, as the saying goes, having gaped in vain.

After the victory Honorius’s army crossed back again to the city. When Constantine learned that Edobichus had been killed, he of his own accord laid aside the purple and the insignia of empire, and taking refuge in the church was ordained presbyter. Those within the walls, having first received oaths, opened the gates, and all were spared. From that time the subjects there returned again to the rule of Honorius and obeyed the officials under him. Constantine, sent with his son Julian to Italy, was killed on the way before arriving. Not long after, the usurpers mentioned, Jovinus and Maximus, were unexpectedly killed, and Sarus, and very many others besides who had plotted against the rule of Honorius.

To recount these things is not for the present occasion; yet I have mentioned them of necessity, so that we may know that for the guarding of his power it suffices an emperor to honour the divine diligently, as this emperor did. With him was also Galla Placidia, his half-sister on the father’s side, who likewise made much account of religion and the churches. Constantius, who had overthrown Constantine’s usurpation, married her, a most warlike man and able general; and the emperor, honouring him because of his sister, honoured him with crown and purple and partnership in power. Having lived a short time, he died, leaving children, Valentinian, the successor of Honorius, and Honoria. Meanwhile the eastern part of the empire was free of enemies, and affairs there were governed with great order, contrary to everyone’s expectation; for the ruler was still young. God seemed plainly to take pleasure in the present reign, not only arranging the affairs of war so unexpectedly, but also revealing the sacred bodies of many who had long been renowned for piety; as happened then too with Zechariah the ancient prophet, and Stephen, who was ordained deacon by the apostles. Since the finding of each was wonderful and divine, it is necessary to tell the manner.

I will begin with the prophet. Kaphar Zacharia is a village in the territory of Eleutheropolis in Palestine. It was managed by a certain Calemerus, a serf of the estate, well disposed to its owner but harsh and difficult and unjust to the neighbouring countrymen. To him, such as he was, the prophet appeared in a waking vision and made himself known; and pointing out a certain garden, he said: “Come, dig here two cubits, measuring from the hedge to the garden, by the road that leads to the city of Bitheribis. You will find a double coffin, the inner of wood, in an outer one of lead; and about the coffin a glass vessel full of water, and two snakes of moderate size, gentle and harmless, so as to seem tame.” Calemerus, coming to the place indicated according to the prophet’s instruction, set to the work zealously. When the sacred tomb had been uncovered with the signs described, the divine prophet appeared, clothed in a white robe, as a priest, I think; and under his feet, outside the coffin, lay a child who had been thought worthy of a royal burial; for he had on his head a golden crown, golden shoes, and a costly garment. When the wise men and priests of the time were at a loss about this child — who he was, whence, and why he was so dressed — it is said that Zacharias, the head of the monastic community at Gerara, came upon an old writing, not one of those read in the churches. It showed that when Joash, king of Judah, had killed the prophet Zechariah, not long after he met with a grievous calamity in his house. For on the … day of the prophet’s killing, his son, who was very dear to him, suddenly died. Concluding that he had fallen into such suffering through the wrath of God, he buried the boy under the prophet’s feet, making amends in this way for his sin against him. So I have learned. The prophet, though he had lain under the earth for very many generations, appeared intact, his hair cut close, his nose straight, with a moderately long beard, his head rather small, his eyes a little sunken and covered by his eyebrows. [… with the Holy Trinity.]