書信集 第 1 章 第 32/32 段

Or perhaps you wish to punish me by depriving me of your honey-sweet voice? Do not do so, noble one; rather be gentle, and grant me to enjoy your all-golden tongue.

BASIL TO LIBANIUS. Those who love the rose, as befits lovers of beauty, do not object even to the thorns from which the flower grows.

And I once heard someone say something of this sort about them, whether in jest or perhaps in earnest, that nature attached those slender thorns to the flower's lovers like a piquant relish.

What, then, do I mean by bringing the rose into this letter? Surely you need no explanation, if you recall your own letter, which brought us the flower of the rose — the springtime of eloquence — yet was all thorned over with certain complaints and accusations against us.

But to me, even the thorn of your roses is a pleasure, kindling a still greater longing for our friendship.

If this is the product of a rather sluggish tongue, what would you be like when you sharpen it? For in your mouth dwell fountains of eloquence stronger than the flow of streams; but as for us, if we are not watered daily, nothing remains but to be silent.

BASIL TO LIBANIUS. My not writing constantly to your learning is excused by both fear and ignorance; but what will excuse you for your most obstinate silence? And if someone should consider that you, who live your very life amid eloquence, hesitate to write letters, he will condemn you as forgetful of us.

For to one for whom speaking comes readily, writing letters is not unready either.

And the one who possesses these gifts, and yet is silent, clearly does so out of disdain or forgetfulness.

But I shall repay your silence with a greeting.

Farewell, then, most honored one; write, if you wish — and do not write, if that is more pleasing to you.

LIBANIUS TO BASIL. I think I need an apology more for not having begun writing to you long ago, than an excuse now for having begun to do so.

For I am that man who used to run to you whenever you appeared, offering my ears most gladly to the stream of your speech, rejoicing as you spoke, departing only with reluctance, and saying to my companions —

"This man surpasses the daughters of Achelous by as much as this: he enchants just as they do, but does not harm as they do."

And it is no small thing merely not to harm — but rather that his very words are gain to the one who receives them. So then, for a man who holds such a conviction, and even believes himself beloved, yet, though seeming eager to speak, does not venture to write letters — this would be a mark of the utmost idleness, and at the same time of one who harms himself.

For I think many will cry out against this statement, and gather round, exclaiming against the facts —

"Has Basil done any wrong, even a small one? Then Aeacus too, and Minos, and his brother as well, must have done wrong!" But I concede that in every other respect you have prevailed.

And who has ever seen you without envying you? Yet there is one thing in which you have wronged me; and if I should remind you of it, do persuade those who are indignant not to cry out.

No one has ever approached you, asked for a favor easy to grant, and gone away disappointed.

I, then, am one of those who asked for a favor but did not receive it.

What, then, did I ask? Often, when I was with you at the Strategium, I wished, through your wisdom, to enter into the depths of Homer's inspired frenzy.

And if the whole was not possible, at least admit us to a portion of the inheritance. And the portion I desired was that in which, the Greeks having fared badly, Agamemnon courts with gifts the man whom he had once insulted.

When I said this, you laughed — unable to deny that you could do it, had you wished, yet unwilling to grant it.

Do I, then, seem to you and to those indignant with me — because I said you were wronging me — to have myself done wrong? LIBANIUS TO BASIL. Whether we have added anything to the young men you sent us in respect of eloquence, you yourself shall judge.

But I hope that this, even if it is small, will win the reputation of something great, on account of our friendship.

As for that which you praise even above their eloquence — their temperance, and their not surrendering their souls to unseemly pleasures — they have given the greatest care to this, and have conducted themselves, as was fitting, mindful of the one who sent them,

and have adorned even me by their character.

To exhort you to help would be like exhorting a father to help his own children.

LIBANIUS TO BASIL. Every bishop is a hard thing to net —

but you, by as much as you surpass others in eloquence, cause me all the more fear that you might somehow stand refusing my request. And since I am in need of roof-beams, another sophist — not truly in need, but preening himself with fine little words, or more concerned with mere elegance than with the actual necessity — might rather have said "poles" or "stakes."

But I, if you should not supply them, shall spend the winter in the open air.

BASIL TO LIBANIUS. If this act of gain is called "netting," and the word which your sophistic art has drawn out for us from the innermost shrines of Plato bears this meaning, then consider, O admirable one, which of us is the harder to catch —

We who are thus distinguished by the power of letter-writing — or are we the race of sophists, for whom it is an art to levy tolls upon words?

Who among the bishops imposed a tribute on words? Who made the students hired mercenaries? You are the ones who put words up for sale, like the honey-boilers do their honey-cakes.

Do you see how you have even stirred the old man to caper about? But I have ordered that there be used for you — who parade about in your declamations — sleepers equal in number to the soldiers who fought at Thermopylae, all of them long, "far-shadowing," according to your Homer — though it was not Homer who promised to set them up again.

LIBANIUS TO BASIL. Will you not cease, Basil, filling this sacred precinct of the Muses with Cappadocians — men, moreover, reeking of barley-gruel and snow and the fine things of that land? They have all but made a Cappadocian of me too, forever chanting to me, "I bow before you."

Know then that I scrutinize closely the manners of that country, but I shall clothe the men anew in the nobility and grace of my Calliope, so that they may appear to you doves instead of wood-pigeons.

BASIL TO LIBANIUS. Your despondency is now dispelled.

For let this be the preface of the letter.

But you, mock and ridicule our affairs, whether in jest or in earnest.

Why did you mention snow or barley-gruel, when you might rather have delighted yourself with our jests? But I, O Libanius, that I might stir up a broad laugh in you as well, wrote this letter while wrapped beneath a curtain of snow; and when you receive it and touch it with your hands, you will know that it is a chilly thing indeed, and that it marks its sender as one huddled indoors, unable to peek out beyond his chambers.

For we possess our houses as tombs, until spring should overtake us and, like a gift bestowed on plants, restore us to life again, though we be as dead.

Many of the people there who met with us admired your excellence in eloquence.

For they said that a certain display had taken place, exceedingly brilliant, and that the contest was, as they claimed, the greatest — so that all ran together, and no one else appeared in the city except Libanius alone contending, with every age listening.

For no one thought it fit to be absent from the contest — not the man dwelling in the weight of high rank, not the one distinguished in the military rolls, not the one occupied with menial trades.

And already even the women were hastening to be present at the contests.

But what was the contest? What was the speech that gathered together the assembly of the whole people? And indeed they reported to me that the speech was directed against the character of a difficult man.

Do not hesitate to send it to me, admired as it was, so that I too may become a praiser of your words.

For he who praises Libanius — how could I now stand outside of works also, having found a subject-matter for praises?

LIBANIUS TO BASIL. Behold, I have sent the speech, streaming with sweat.

Whence I shudder and tremble, reckoning the day on which you will examine the words.

and I have well-nigh fallen out of my senses.

BASIL TO LIBANIUS. I have read the speech, most wise one, and I have marveled exceedingly.

O Muses and Eloquence and Athens, what gifts you bestow upon your lovers!

What fruits they carry off, those who spend but a short time in your company!

O fount of abundant flow, what men it has shown forth, those who draw from it!

For I seemed to see the man himself in the speech, keeping company with a talkative woman.

For Libanius has written a living speech upon earth, he who alone has bestowed a soul upon words.

LIBANIUS TO BASIL. Now I have learned that I am what I am called.

For since Basil has praised me, I hold the victor's prize over all.

And having received your vote, it is now granted to me to walk with a stately gait, despising all men like some braggart.

Since, then, a discourse against drunkenness has also been composed by you, we wish to obtain it.

But I do not wish to say anything clever; the speech itself, once seen, will teach me the art of speaking.

LIBANIUS TO BASIL. Basil, is it possible you dwell in Athens and have escaped your own notice? For the children of the Caesareans could not understand such things.

For my tongue was not accustomed to these things, but, as if traversing some precipice, being struck by the novelty of the words, it said to me, its father:

"This man is Homer — no, Plato — no, Aristotle — no, Susarion, the one who knows all things!" Such were the words of my tongue; but as for you, Basil, may you always praise us with such things.

For what could we say in reply to a tongue so Attic in its speech, except that I am a disciple of fishermen — this I confess and this I love? LIBANIUS TO BASIL. What has come over Basil, that he took offense at the letter, that mark of philosophy? We were taught by you people to jest — yet even so, our jests are dignified and, as it were, fitting for gray hairs.

But, for the sake of our very friendship and our shared studies, dispel for me the despondency which your letter has brought forth in me.

LIBANIUS TO BASIL. O those times, in which we were all things to one another!

You, having one another; but I, in your place, have no one such as you were.

But as for Alcimus, I hear that in his old age he dares the deeds of youth, and flies off to Rome, having laid upon you the labor of being with the boys.

But you, being in other respects a gentle man, will bear even this without difficulty, since indeed you did not take it ill that we were the first to write to you.

BASIL TO LIBANIUS. You, having shut up within your own mind the whole art of the ancients, are so silent that you do not even grant us some gain in your letters.

But nevertheless, since one cannot entrust wax to the sun, instead of the wings of Icarus I send you words that show forth our friendship.

For it is the nature of words to reveal the loves that are within the soul.

But you may lead them wherever you wish, and though you possess so great a power, you remain silent.

But turn also toward us the fountains of words that flow from your mouth.

FROM HIS LETTER TO JULIAN THE APOSTATE. According to the blameless faith of the Christians, allotted to us from God, I confess and agree to believe in one God the Father almighty, God the Father, God the Son, God the Holy Spirit;

one God — the Three I worship and glorify.

And I confess also the incarnate dispensation of the Son, and confess as Theotokos the holy Mary who bore him according to the flesh.

Wherefore I also honor and venerate the figures of their images, since these have been handed down as a special tradition from the holy Apostles, and are not forbidden, but are depicted in all our churches.

TO APOLLINARIS. To my lord, the most reverend Apollinaris, Basil sends greeting.

But now a greater care concerning greater matters has come upon us, for which we have no one else among the men of our time whom we could call to be such a partner and patron as God has granted us in you — a man at once precise in knowledge and in speech, and yet approachable.

Since, then, those who confound everything and have filled the world with words and disputes have rejected the term "ousia" as foreign to the divine oracles, deign to indicate to us both how the Fathers made use of it, and whether you have nowhere found it set down in Scripture.

For they spurn also the "daily" (epiousion) bread and the "peculiar" (periousion) people and whatever else is of this kind, as having nothing in common with it.

Next, indeed, concerning the very term "homoousios" itself (on account of which I judge that they contrive these things, thoroughly slandering "ousia," in order to leave no room for "homoousios"), be pleased to explain to us more fully what meaning it holds, and how it might be soundly stated in the case of things where neither a common genus is observed as superior to them, nor does any preexisting material substrate lie beneath them, nor is there a division of the former into the latter.

How then one must say that the Son is consubstantial with the Father without falling into any of the notions just mentioned — be pleased to set this forth for us more fully in articulate detail.

For we ourselves have supposed:

whatever the substance of the Father may be conceived to be by hypothesis, this the substance of the Son must also necessarily be understood to be.

So that if one should call the substance of the Father intelligible light, eternal, unbegotten, one will also call the substance of the Only-begotten intelligible light, eternal, begotten.

For such a notion, it seems to me that the term "unvaryingly like" fits better than that of "consubstantial."

For light compared with light, having no difference in the more and the less, would not be "the same," because each subsists within its own proper circumscription of substance; but I think it would rightly be said to be "like in substance," precisely and unvaryingly.

Whether, then, one ought to discuss these notions or to take up other, greater ones, as a wise physician (for indeed we have laid bare to you what is in our heart) heal what is ailing, support what is unsound, and in every way confirm us.

I salute the brothers who are with your reverence, and I ask that they pray with you on our behalf, that we may be saved.

Our companion Gregory, having chosen a life with his parents, dwells with them.

May you be preserved for us in health for the longest time, benefiting us both by your prayers and by your knowledge.

APOLLINARIS TO BASIL. You believe as one who loves God, and you inquire as one who loves learning, and from us the readiness to answer is owed on account of love, even if sufficiency should not attend the argument, both because of our own deficiency and because of the surpassing nature of the subject.

In this way, indeed, the notion that there is one genus lying above, or one matter underlying, in the case of Father and Son will be removed from our suppositions, when we take into account the property proper to a founder of a lineage, as belonging to the supreme Principle, and compare the races that spring from such founders of lineages with the only-begotten offspring that comes from the one Principle.

For such things come only in a moderate degree into likeness with the case at hand.

In that neither is there one genus lying above both Adam, as fashioned by God, and us, as begotten of men, but he himself is the origin of mankind;

nor is there matter common to him and to us, but he himself is the substrate of all men.

But in the case of Father and Son, no such thing holds; rather, the Father is the Principle in its entirety, and the Son is from the Principle.

Therefore there is no partition of the former into the latter, as with bodies, but a begetting.

For neither has the Father's own property been divided into the Son, but the Son's has shone forth from the Father's.

The same in otherness, and other in sameness, according to which the Father is said to be in the Son and the Son in the Father.

For neither will otherness alone preserve the truth of sonship, nor again will sameness alone preserve the indivisibility of the hypostasis, but each is interwoven and forms a single kind.

The same in one manner, and other in like manner — if one may thus force words that fall short of full expression — the Lord himself confirming the sense for us both by presenting the Father as 'greater' within equality, and the Son as possessing that equality in a state of subordination;

which he taught us — to conceive of the Son as light of the same kind, yet diminished, not by altering the essence, but by contemplating that same reality both in its surpassing fullness and in its diminution.

For those who admit no sameness of essence at all bring in likeness from outside and attach it to the Son — the very thing which extends even to men who are made like to God.

But those who know that likeness properly belongs to created things join the Son to the Father in sameness — yet a diminished sameness — lest he be thought the Father himself or a part of the Father, errors which are readily suggested by the phrase 'another Son'; thus he is God, not as that one is, but as being from that one; not the archetype, but the image.

This one is consubstantial in a manner exalted above and distinct from all others — not as things of the same kind with one another, not as things divided off — but as the one and only offspring from the one race and species of the Godhead, by an indivisible and incorporeal procession, according to which the Begetter, remaining in the property of begetting, came forth into the property of begetting.

TO APOLLINARIUS. To my lord, the most reverend brother Apollinarius, Basil sends greeting.

We were delighted that you kept your delight over those matters concealed in silence.

For you truly seemed to us to be one endowed with understanding, while the interpretations of others flit past like shadows, since you conduct your exposition upon a secure foundation of thought.

And now indeed the longing for the knowledge of the divine oracles touches my soul all the more.

I hesitate, then, to put before you any of my difficulties, lest I seem to indulge beyond measure in boldness of speech.

Yet again I cannot bear to keep silent, being in travail and still longing to receive more.

It seemed best to me, then, to ask you, O admirable one, whether you allow us to inquire about any of these difficulties, or whether we ought to remain silent.

Whichever you answer, this we will observe henceforth.

May we have you, always, in good health, good spirits, and praying earnestly for us.

TO BASIL, APOLLINARIUS. To my lord, the most beloved brother Basil, Apollinarius, greeting in the Lord.

...we have, since we cannot even discover where you happen to be staying.

But I sought you in Cappadocia, since those in Pontus who had met you likewise reported that you had promised to return soon; yet I did not find you where I had hoped.

But now, hearing that you are still residing in the same region, I have at once entrusted this letter also to the messenger.

When you receive it, do not refrain from writing back, as though this letter too were journeying abroad along with you.

Know that in the meantime there has been a visit of bishops from Egypt, and letters were circulated in agreement with the ancient writings — both the divine Scriptures themselves, and those written at Nicaea in accordance with the divine Scriptures.

A restatement of these same writings, together with explanation, was necessary, on account of the unsound misinterpretation of the texts which was being introduced by those who formerly opposed them openly, but who now, through the guise of exegesis, pursue that same opposition by artifice;

wherein occurred the malicious rejection of the term 'homoousios,' on the ground that it need not be understood in a way free from every Hellenic objection;

and in its place was introduced 'like according to essence' — a term coined and coarsely named, maliciously conceived, since likeness pertains to things that exist in essence, not to essential realities themselves, so that essence might in this way be understood as 'made like,' just as a statue might be like a king.

In answer to which it was written by those who both know and desire true piety, that 'homoousios' signifies not one like God, but God — as being a genuine offspring, and of the same essence as the one who begot him.

Together with this was also introduced the teaching concerning the Spirit, as laid down by the Fathers in the same faith together with the Father and the Son, that He is within that same Godhead.

Who then, it is likely, should have shared so fully in this embassy of piety, as its most earnest advocate, together with my lord Gregory — who himself neither writes from anywhere nor gives any sign at all? Farewell, most beloved lord.

There has been a great fall of snow upon the lake in our region.

But before it had frozen into ice, a warm wind arose, and a rain from the south fell upon it.

So when a sudden thaw occurred, incomparable torrents were set in motion, mingling with the ever-flowing Halys river as it filled its channel, overflowing beyond what tongue could tell or eye could behold.

This is the river that has fallen to us as our neighbor;

it gushes forth from the land of the Armenians, and empties into the most sacred lake of the Sebasteans, into which the renowned and noble forty soldiers of Christ plunged, when a fierce north wind blew.

And from thence (receive me as speaking the truth, most excellent one) this river, encircling us like a hostile nation, terrifies us not a little with its dreadful floods.

For, being as yet fordable on foot by no means and at no season, it does not permit the necessary and profitable neighboring regions to convey across their needed goods.

I mean the regions of Galatia, Paphlagonia, and Hellenopontus, through which and from which our necessities come to us, above all an abundance of bread — since the surrounding land is bound with frost, and the encircling air itself is bound fast by a wrath of the elements subdued by lightning, thunder, hail, and torrent.

And no small threat also comes from the towering disdain of Argaeus, that ancestral affliction of ours.

Do you, then, most excellent one, being moved by entreaty, be willing to show generosity toward your tributary land, so that, by fitting it out abundantly with bridges for crossing, you may show it to be a new Red Sea, passable on foot.

For indeed, the Lord, taking pity on the much-groaning life of the Jews, was pleased to let them walk with feet unwetted, as though upon dry land, through the Red Sea, having given them Moses as their leader.

Long indeed has been our account of the river's ways;

since the farmland is being ravaged, the ploughing ox and all the beasts of burden throughout the surrounding country must inevitably go hungry.

And if it were a man wronging a man, we would not have ceased resorting to the courts.

But against a mighty river that obeys no laws, what indeed should one employ? You, then, most excellent one, must pray to Him who, in a single moment, is able to check the peril facing travelers.

BASIL TO URBICIUS THE MONK, CONCERNING CONTINENCE. You do well in setting straight boundaries for us, so that we may perceive not only continence itself, but also its fruit.

Its fruit, then, is participation in God.

For not to be corrupted is to partake of God, just as to be corrupted is to partake of mortal life.

For continence is a denial of the body and a confession made to God.

It departs from everything mortal, having, as it were, the Spirit of God for its body, and it causes union with God, possessing neither jealousy nor envy.

For he who loves the body begrudges another;

but he who has not admitted the sickness of corruption into his heart is thereafter made strong against every affliction, though dead in body, yet alive in incorruption.

And to me, considering it thoroughly, continence seems to be God himself, because He desires nothing, but has all things within Himself, and craves nothing, nor has any passion regarding the eyes or the ears, but being without need, He is wholly full throughout.

Desire is a sickness of the soul, and continence is its health.

Continence, moreover, must not be regarded as pertaining to a single kind alone, such as matters of the flesh, but also to all the other things which the soul, not content with what is necessary, wrongly desires;

envy arises on account of gold, and countless wrongs arise on account of other desires.

Not to be drunk is continence, and not to burst from overeating is also continence.

To master the body is continence, and to rule over evil thoughts is also continence.

How often has a thought, neither good nor true, troubled the soul, and divided the heart to be anxious in vain about many things? Continence altogether sets us free, healing us even as it is itself a power;

for it does not merely teach temperance, but actually bestows it.

Continence is a grace of God.

Jesus appeared as continence itself, becoming weightless both upon the earth and upon the sea.

For neither did the earth bear his weight, nor did the sea; but just as he walked upon the sea, so he did not weigh down the earth.

For if death comes from being corrupted, and not to die comes from having no corruption, then Jesus was manifesting divinity, not mortality.

He ate and drank in a manner peculiar to himself, not excreting the food he took;

so great was the power of continence in him that the food was not corrupted within him, since he himself possessed no corruption.

If there is but a little continence in us, we are superior to all things.

For indeed we have heard that angels, having become incontinent, were dragged down from heaven on account of desire.

For they were captured — they did not merely descend;

If we have but a little continence, and do not fall in love with this present life, but with the higher ages, we shall be found there, where we send up our mind.

I have written to you these few words, yet I have written them as though they were many, for each expression is a thought in itself; and I know that when you have read it you will perceive this.