書信集 第 1 章 第 3/32 段

TO ELEUTHERA. There is a certain art of dove-hunting of this sort:

When those who pursue such things get hold of one dove and make it tame and accustomed to eating with them, they then anoint its wings with perfume and let it go to flock together with the doves outside.

And the fragrance of that perfume makes that free flock the possession of the one who owns the tame dove.

For the rest also follow after and take up residence with those that give off the sweet scent.

If, then, I should see this happen in my own lifetime, and see your Reverence turned toward the higher life, I shall ask many persons worthy of God to render him the honor that is owed.

UNTITLED, CONCERNING A FRIEND. Having by God's grace spent the holy day together with our children, and having truly celebrated a perfect feast unto the Lord because of their surpassing love toward God, we have sent them ahead in good health to your Nobility, praying the loving God that a peaceful angel be given to them also as helper and fellow-traveler, and that you be found by them in health and in every peaceful condition, so that wherever you may be, serving the Lord and giving thanks to him, you may gladden us, so long as we are in the world, by hearing news of you.

But if the Holy One grants that you be freed from these cares more quickly, we beg you to prefer nothing above sojourning with us.

For I do not think you will find those who love you so, and who so lay claim to friendship with you.

So then, as long as the Holy One ordains this separation, deign to comfort us with letters on every possible occasion.

You used to write to us briefly before, but now not even briefly, and it seems that your brevity, advancing with time, is becoming complete silence.

Return, then, to your former custom, so that we shall no longer reproach you for writing to us tersely; rather, we shall count even brief letters, being tokens of your great affection, as worth much.

TO OLYMPIUS. Just as each of the other ripe fruits appears in its proper season—flowers in spring, ears of grain in summer, and the apple in autumn—so words are the fruit of winter.

TO GREGORY, HIS COMPANION. When my brother Gregory wrote to me long ago that he wished to meet with us, and added that this same thing had been decided by you as well, I—partly because, having been deceived many times, I was rather reluctant to believe it, and partly because I was distracted by preoccupations—was unable to wait any longer.

For at last, having despaired of the vain hopes I once had concerning you—or rather, of the dreams, if I am to speak more truly (for I commend the man who said that hopes are the dreams of those who are awake)—I went off to Pontus in search of a way of life.

There God showed me a place exactly suited to my disposition, so that I now behold in reality just such a place as we used often, in idle moments, playfully to fashion in our imagination.

For it is a high mountain, covered with dense forest, watered by cold and clear streams flowing down toward the north.

At its foot a level plain is spread out, continually enriched by the moisture flowing down from the mountain.

A forest of various and manifold trees, having grown up around it of its own accord, serves almost as a fence for it, so that even the island of Calypso, which Homer, above all others, appears to have admired for its beauty, seems small in comparison to this.

For indeed it falls little short of being an island, in that it is enclosed on every side by natural barriers.

For deep ravines have broken away on two sides of it;

and on one side, the river flowing beneath a cliff is itself also a continuous and impassable wall;

and from the other side, the mountain, extending along and joined to the ravines by crescent-shaped spurs, walls off the accessible parts of the foothills.

There is but one entrance to it, of which we are masters.

As for our dwelling, another ridge receives it, holding up a lofty crest at its summit, so that this plain lies spread out beneath our gaze, and from this height it is possible to look down and behold the river flowing round about—affording, it seems to me, no less delight than the Strymon affords to those who view it from Amphipolis.

For the one river, forming a lake-like expanse with its sluggish current, has, through its stillness, almost lost even the character of being a river;

whereas the other, flowing more swiftly than any river I know, is roughened a little by the neighboring rock, and, being thrown back by it, coils round into a deep whirlpool;

affording a most delightful sight to me and to every onlooker, and a most sufficient benefit to the local inhabitants, while nurturing in its eddies an untold multitude of fish.

What need is there to speak of the exhalations from the earth, or the breezes from the river? As for the abundance of flowers or of singing birds, another might well admire them, but I have no leisure to turn my mind to such things.

...of fruits nourishes our quiet retreat, not only because it is free from urban tumults, but also because it does not even send along any traveler, except those who join us for the sake of the hunt.

For besides other things, it also nurtures wild animals—not bears or wolves, like those of your region;

but it feeds herds of deer and wild goats and hares, and whatever else is like these.

Do you not then consider, foolish as I am, to what danger I came, when I contended to exchange Tiberina — that pit of the inhabited world — for such a place? For this you will pardon me now, since I write in haste.

For surely not even Alcmaeon, once he had found the Echinades, endured his wandering any further.

For as to them, the kindness on whose account they received the letter from us existed already before our letter, because of the customary and natural gentleness that is in you toward all.

We, however, have counted the occasion of addressing your inimitable goodness the greatest gain, praying to the holy God that, as you advance in pleasing him and your renown grows ever greater, we ourselves may rejoice, and share the gladness of those benefited by your governance; and that in time even those who deliver our letters to you may themselves, together with all, join in praising your gentleness, having learned once for all that our intercession with your surpassing goodness has not proved unprofitable to them.

TO EUNOMIUS THE HERETIC. He who claims that the discovery of the things that exist is attainable has, by some method and sequence, applied his mind through the knowledge of existing things; and having trained himself, through comprehension, upon things easily grasped and of lesser magnitude, has thus advanced himself, by a comprehending apprehension, even to what lies beyond every conception.

Therefore let him who boasts of having grasped the knowledge concerning existing things explain what nature the smallest of visible things possesses, and let him state what the nature of the ant is:

whether its life is sustained by breath and respiration; whether its body is furnished throughout with bones; whether its joints are strung with sinews and ligaments; whether the arrangement of its sinews is held together by an envelope of muscles and glands; whether the marrow extends along the vertebral joints from the crown to the tail; whether by the enclosure of a nerve-like membrane it supplies the moving limbs with their motive power; whether it has within it a liver, and a gall-bladder attached to the liver, kidneys, heart, arteries and veins, membranes and diaphragms; whether it is bare or covered with hair; whether it is single-hoofed or has feet divided into many parts; how long a time it lives, and what is their manner of generation from one another, and for how long the offspring is carried in the womb; and how it is that not all ants go on foot, nor are all winged, but some belong to those that move upon the ground, while others are borne through the air.

Therefore let him who boasts of the knowledge of existing things first tell the nature of the ant, and only then go on to give a natural account of the power that surpasses every mind.

When heard, you gladden us; and when read, through what you write you afford us even more vivid delights.

And great thanks be to the good God, who has not allowed the truth to be diminished at all by the betrayal of those who supposedly held the upper hand, but through you has fulfilled the advocacy for the word of piety.

Those men, then, like hemlock or aconite, or any other man-slaying plant, having flourished for a little while, will quickly wither away.

But to you the Lord will grant a reward, ever blooming and ever new, for the words spoken on behalf of his name.

In return for this, may the Lord also grant you every prosperity of house, and hand down the blessing even to your children's children.

As for the most noble children, the manifest images of your kindness, I saw them with joy and embraced them, and I pray for them whatever blessings you yourself, their father, would pray.

TO MACARIUS AND JOHN. Neither do the toils of husbandry come as strangers to farmers, nor is the storm at sea unexpected to sailors, nor is the summer sweat strange to hired laborers, nor indeed is affliction in the present world unfamiliar to those who have chosen to live a life of piety.

But joined to each of the things mentioned there is a proper and familiar toil:

not chosen for its own sake, but for the enjoyment of the good things that are expected.

For hopes, which sustain and hold together the whole life of men, console the hardship attaching to each of these.

Now among those who toil for the fruits of the earth, or labor upon the ground, some are utterly cheated of their hopes, having enjoyment only in imagination; while those for whom the outcome did turn out according to their wish had need again of a second hope, since the former one had quickly passed away and withered.

But for those alone who have labored for the sake of piety, no falsehood has ever made their hopes vanish, nor has any outcome ever ruined their struggles, since the kingdom of the heavens, firm and abiding, succeeds them.

Let not, then, false slander trouble you, nor let the threat of those in power frighten you:

let not the mockery and insult of your acquaintances grieve you, nor the condemnation — under the pretense of admonition — from those who pretend to care for you, so long as the word of truth contends together with us.

TO GREGORY, HIS COMPANION. A letter came to me recently from you, unmistakably yours — not so much by the character of the handwriting as by the distinctive style of the letter.

For the words were few, yet they presented a great deal of meaning.

To this we did not reply at once, because we ourselves were away from home, and the letter-carrier, having handed the letter to one of our associates, departed and went on his way.

But now, through Peter, we address you, at once discharging the debt of greeting, and at the same time providing an occasion for a second letter from you.

Surely there is no trouble at all in writing a Laconic letter, such as those which each time arrive from you to us.

Long delayed, indeed, have our letters to you also been:

yet not more delayed than those from your parts, even though many and continual visitors have come to us from your region.

If you had entrusted letters to all of these in succession, nothing would have hindered you from imagining that we were together with you, and enjoying us as if we were present and with you, so continuous was the multitude of those arriving to us.

But why do you not write? And yet a sophist has no task other than writing:

or rather, even if your hand should be idle, there would be no need even for you to write yourself:

for another will serve you as scribe.

Only the tongue is needed, which, even if it does not converse with us, will certainly speak at least to one of those present:

and even if no one is present, it will converse with itself:

and it will by no means keep silent, being both sophistic and Attic, no more than the nightingales when spring rouses them to song.

For as to us, this constant press of business in which we now find ourselves might perhaps furnish an excuse for the scarcity of our letters; and besides, the fact that we have by now, so to speak, become tainted by excessive plainness into a kind of unpolished manner reasonably produces in us hesitation about addressing you sophists, who, if you should hear anything unworthy of your own wisdom, will take it ill and will not tolerate it.

But for you, on the contrary, it is likely that on every occasion you make your own voice known to the public, being fit to speak among those Greeks whom I myself know.

For I know, as I suppose, the most renowned among your people.

So there is no excuse for you to keep silent.

And so much, then, for this matter.

I have also sent the work against Eunomius:

whether one ought to call it a mere pastime, or something a little more serious than a pastime, I leave it to you yourself to judge — you who, I suppose, no longer have need of it for your own affairs, but who I expect will find it no ignoble weapon against those who encounter perverse men; not that we place so much confidence in the power of the treatise itself, but because we know precisely that from few starting-points you are resourceful enough to arrive at many conclusions.

But if anything in it should appear to you to be somewhat too weak for what is needed, do not hesitate to point it out.

For in this above all a friend differs from a flatterer: the one converses so as to give pleasure, while the other does not refrain even from what causes pain.

TO LEONTIUS THE SOPHIST. It seems that good Julian, too, is experiencing something of the common state of affairs in his own concerns.

For he too is being dunned and vehemently accused, since everything now is full of people being dunned and accused.

Except that it is not a matter of arrears in taxes, but of letters.

Yet I do not know in what respect he has fallen short.

For he has always given a letter, and has received one in return.

Unless perhaps with you too this much-talked-of fourfold restitution has been given preference.

For not even the Pythagoreans honored the Tetraktys as much as those who now collect the public taxes honor the fourfold penalty.

And yet perhaps the opposite would have been fitting: that you, being a sophist and abounding in so many words, should yourself be liable to us for payment of the fourfold penalty.

And do not suppose that we write these things out of vexation.

For I rejoice even in your reproaches, since they say that in the case of good men everything comes with the addition of what is good, so that even their griefs and their angers are becoming to them.

At any rate, one would more gladly see the one he loves being angry than see someone else merely paying court.

May you, then, never cease bringing such accusations.

For these very accusations will, I suppose, themselves be letters — and to me no report is more precious than these, nor brings greater pleasure.

...of the God-inspired Scripture, I was of necessity eager to speak by way of brief reminder, leaving the testimony concerning each point — since it is easily found — to be recognized by those occupied with reading, who will themselves be capable also of reminding others.

That the Christian must think thoughts worthy of the heavenly calling, and conduct himself in a manner worthy of the Gospel of Christ.

That the Christian must not be carried away, nor be drawn aside by anything from the remembrance of God and of his wills and judgments.

That the Christian, having become in all things superior to the requirements of the law, must neither swear nor lie.

That one must not blaspheme; that one must not insult; that one must not quarrel; that one must not avenge oneself; that one must not repay evil with evil; that one must not become angry.

That one must be long-suffering, whatever one may suffer, and reprove the wrongdoer at the proper time — not, however, out of a passion for one's own vindication, but out of a desire for the correction of the brother, according to the commandment of the Lord.

That one must not say anything against an absent brother with the aim of slandering him — which is backbiting — even if what is said is true.

That one must turn away from him who backbites a brother.

That one must not utter coarse jesting.

That one must not laugh, nor tolerate those who make jests.

That one must not engage in idle talk, saying anything that is neither for the benefit of the hearers nor for some necessary use permitted by God:

so that even those who labor should be diligent to work, as far as possible, in quietness; and that even good words themselves should be directed toward those persons who have been entrusted, after due testing, to dispense the word for the building up of the faith, so that the Holy Spirit of God may not be grieved.

That none of those who come in should presume to approach with authority or speak to any of the brothers, until those charged with the care of good order in all things have determined how it is pleasing to God for the common benefit.

That one must not be enslaved to wine, nor be inordinately disposed toward meat, and in general must not be given to pleasure in any food or drink;

for he who competes in the contest exercises self-control in all things.

That of the things given to each for use, none should be held as one's own or kept privately in store; yet in one's care, attending to all things as belonging to the Master, one should not overlook anything cast aside or neglected, should that happen to occur.

That no one should be master of himself, but, as one delivered by God into servitude to the brothers who are of one mind with him, should so think and do all things, each in his own rank.

That one must not murmur, either in the scarcity of necessities or in the toil of labors, since those who have been appointed have authority to judge concerning each of these matters.

That there must be no shouting, nor any other posture or movement in which anger is displayed, or a distraction of mind away from the assurance that God is present.

That one must measure one's voice according to need.

That one must not answer anyone or do anything with insolence or contempt, but in everything must show gentleness and honor toward all.

That one must not wink the eye with guile, or employ any other posture or movement of a limb which grieves a brother or expresses contempt.

That one must not adorn oneself with garments or shoes, which is vain ostentation.

That one must use plain, inexpensive things for the needs of the body.

That one must spend nothing beyond need and toward extravagance, which is misuse.

That one must not seek honor or lay claim to the first place.

That each must esteem all others above himself.

That one must not be insubordinate.

That he who is able to work must not eat in idleness, but even one occupied with some worthy accomplishment for the glory of Christ must press himself onward in diligence to the work within his power.

That each must do all things according to the judgment of those set over him, with reason and full assurance, even to the very act of eating and drinking, as unto the glory of God.

such being the things enjoined, except if perchance some unavoidable necessity should suddenly call one to the aid of one who has become unable to help himself.

That each must remain in the position to which he was assigned, and, without overstepping his own measure, must not intrude upon matters not entrusted to him, unless those who have been given charge of such things judge that someone is in need of help.

That one must not be found going from one workshop to another.

That one must not do anything out of contentiousness or strife toward another.

That one must not envy another's good repute, nor rejoice over anyone's failings.

That in the love of Christ one must grieve and be crushed at heart over a brother's failings, but rejoice over his good accomplishments.

That one must not be indifferent toward those who sin, or remain passive toward them.

That he who reproves must reprove with all compassion, in the fear of God, and with the aim of turning back the one who has sinned.

That he who is reproved or rebuked must accept it readily, recognizing his own benefit in the correction.

That when someone is being accused, another must not, in his presence or before certain others, contradict the one making the accusation.

But if ever the charge should appear unreasonable to someone, he must raise the matter privately with the accuser, and either convince him or be convinced by him.

That each must, as far as possible, attend to and appease the one who has something against him.

That one must not bear a grudge against one who has sinned and repents, but must forgive from the heart.

That he who says he repents of a sin must not only be pierced with compunction for what he sinned, but must also produce fruits worthy of repentance.

That he who has been disciplined for his former sins and deemed worthy of forgiveness, if he sins again, prepares for himself a judgment of wrath worse than the former.

That he who, after a first and second admonition, persists in his failing must be made manifest to the superior, so that, being rebuked by more persons, he may perhaps be brought to shame.

But if even so he does not amend, he must thenceforth be cut off as a stumbling-block, and be regarded as a heathen and a tax collector, for the safety of those who labor in the diligence of obedience, according to what was said:

That the sun must not go down upon a brother's provocation to anger, lest the night intervene between the two and leave, on the Day of Judgment, an inexcusable charge.

That one must not wait for a [more convenient] time to amend oneself, because one has no certainty about tomorrow, since many, having planned many things, did not live to see the morrow.

That one must not be deceived by satiety of the belly, through which nocturnal fantasies arise.

That one must not be distracted into immoderate labor, nor overstep the bounds of self-sufficiency, according to what the Apostle said:

But having food and covering, with these we shall be content, since abundance beyond need displays the image of covetousness, and covetousness bears the sentence of idolatry.

That one must not be a lover of money, nor store up, for useless purposes, things which one ought not.

That he who comes to God must embrace non-possession in all things, and be nailed fast by the fear of God, according to him who said:

"Nail my flesh with fear of you";

and to put to death the pleasures of the flesh, and thereafter to advance along the way that leads to the dwelling-places of the Lord.

Since therefore it is necessary—if by nature he stands in desire of the truly blessed way of life, and has held in his own soul the good and praiseworthy love, having loved the Lord our God with all his heart and with all his strength and with all his mind—that the hardships and difficulties of the narrow and afflicted way be shown to him by your piety, and that he be established in hope of the things not yet now seen, but laid up in the promises as good things reserved for those worthy of the Lord;

therefore, writing, I beseech your incomparable perfection in Christ to shape him, if it be possible, and even apart from me to accomplish his renunciation according to what is pleasing to God, and to have him instructed according to what has seemed good to the holy Fathers and been set forth by them in writing;

and that already all things which seem fitting according to the strictness of the ascetic rule be set before him, and that thus he be led to that life, having voluntarily taken up the contests for piety and submitted himself to the good yoke of the Lord; and that, living in imitation of him who for our sake became poor and bore flesh, and running with purpose toward the prize of the upward calling, he may obtain acceptance from the Lord.

For as for him, though eager to receive here the crown of love according to God, I have deferred this, wishing, together with your piety, to anoint him for such contests, and to set over him as trainer whichever one of you he himself shall seek—one who trains him well and, through intense and blessed diligence, makes of him a proven wrestler, wounding and casting down the ruler of this darkness and the spiritual powers of wickedness, against which, according to the blessed Apostle, our wrestling is.

What therefore I wished to do together with you, let your love in Christ accomplish even without me.

TO ATHANASIUS, FATHER OF ATHANASIUS THE BISHOP. That it is among the most difficult things—not to say among things impossible—for a man's life to rise above slanders, I myself am persuaded, and I think your goodness does not doubt it either.

Yet to afford no handle whatsoever from oneself, neither to those who scrutinize matters closely, nor to those who lie in wait out of malice for our slips—this indeed is both possible and characteristic of those who conduct their own life prudently and in accordance with the aim of piety.

But do not suppose us to be so easy, or so easily led astray, that we accept without examination the accusations brought by just anyone.

For we remember the spiritual precept which enjoins that one ought not to receive a vain report.

Nevertheless, since you yourselves, men devoted to learning, say that visible things are signs of things unseen, this we request (and do not take it amiss if something in the manner of teaching should be said by us—

for God has chosen the weak things of the world and the things counted as nothing, and through them He often administers the salvation of those who are being saved)—

what indeed I say and enjoin is this:

that every word and every fitting deed be carried out with careful consideration, and, according to the apostolic precept, that no occasion of stumbling be given in anything.

For I hold it fitting that the life of a man who has toiled much in the learning of letters, who has directed the governance of nations and cities, and who holds emulation toward the great virtue of his forefathers, should be set forth as an example of virtue.

So that it is not we who need to be persuaded concerning these things, for the testimony arising from the very facts themselves suffices.

Yet it is not out of place to add this, for the sake of the truth: that it is not the brother Timothy, the chorepiscopus, who reported to us the things that were rumored.

For neither in conversation nor by letter does he appear to have uttered anything, small or great, involving slander concerning you.

So that we do not deny having heard something;

yet it is not Timothy who is fabricating the slanders against you.

But whenever we hear such things, at any rate, if nothing else, we shall do what Alexander did: we shall keep the other ear undefiled for the one who is being slandered.

TO ATHANASIUS, BISHOP OF ANCYRA. Some of those who have come to us from Ancyra reported to me—and these were many, not easy even to number, all speaking in agreement—that you, dear friend (how might I say it decorously?), no longer remember us as pleasantly as before, nor in accordance with your own customary manner.

But nothing human astonishes me, be well assured, nor is the change of any person whatsoever unexpected to me, since long ago I learned well the weakness of our nature and its readiness to turn to the opposite.

Wherefore, even if something concerning us has changed, and in place of the former honor, revilings and insults are now directed at us, I do not make much of this.

But this at first appeared to me truly strange and extraordinary—that you should be so disposed toward us as to be angry with us and displeased, and even, as those who heard it report, to be uttering some threat.

As for the threats, I laughed at them heartily indeed (for the truth shall be told).

For I should indeed be a mere child, were I to fear such bogeys.

This seemed to me fearful and worthy of much concern: that your precision — which we believed was preserved, among the few, as a bulwark of rectitude and a seed of the ancient and true love, for the consolation of the Churches — should have been so affected by the present state of affairs that you made the slanders of chance persons of greater weight than our long experience of one another, and were led into suspicion of absurd things without any proof.

And yet why do I say "suspicion"? For the one who, as they say, became indignant and uttered threats seems somehow to have shown the anger not of one who merely suspects, but of one already clearly and incontrovertibly persuaded.

But, as I said, we attribute the cause of these things to the present circumstance.