Therefore, after the race of impious men, hateful to God and to men—as we have set forth above—had suddenly perished, so that in them there seemed rightly fulfilled what the Holy Spirit had foretold: 'I saw the impious highly exalted and lifted up like the cedars of Lebanon; and I passed by, and behold, he was not,'—now, every cloud being wiped away, the joyful day, brighter than usual, had shone upon the earth, and upon the churches of Christ the splendour of its own sun had gleamed; nor did there anywhere remain an envious eye to regard these things otherwise, but all mortals, at the horror of the tyrannical cruelty that had passed, even if not yet in faith, confessed that the affairs of the devout were aided, and proved firm the hope of those who hope in Christ.
From which there was present to all, as though poured in by a divine gift, a gladness—especially to those who beheld those places, which a little before had been destroyed by the impious engines of the tyrants, now rising again brighter and loftier by a renewed construction, and lofty temples being raised in place of humble little meeting-houses. For it delighted their souls and stirred them the more, while they wrote the more frequently to the person of the bishops and paid honour to the priests with the highest veneration, and also bestowed the expenses of the outlays more generously. Meanwhile festivals were most frequently kept by our people with all joy and exultation, dedications of churches being celebrated throughout the cities and each several place.
The priests gathered together into one, and it did not irk even those set far off to convene, for no space seemed long to charity. Peoples too flocked to peoples, and, as truly members of the one body of Christ, they rejoiced to be joined and associated with one another, so that there seemed to be fulfilled what was said: 'bone was gathered to bone, and joint to joint,' in whom also one Spirit, poured into all the members, is rightly said to dwell, and one soul, because there is one faith in all, and one God is worshipped by all, and out of one mouth all sing hymns together to God. And now indeed a mighty grace shone forth in the priesthood and the ministries and in all things which pertain to the observance of religion.
Here stood the choirs of those chanting psalms; young men and maidens, old men with the young, praised the name of the Lord; here the mystic ministries were performed by ordained and appointed turns. The assembly, too, of pontiffs and priests, venerable by their very hoary age, shone brightly from afar. And now indeed, if anyone, inspired through the grace of the Lord, uttered a discourse to the people, with all silence the faces and eyes of all were turned upon him, as though it were preserved to them from heaven through him in the priests. Thence one and another, and not only two or three, as the Apostle said, the rest judging, spoke; but to as many as speech was given in the opening of their mouth, that it might the more be established in them what Moses had said:
'Who will grant that the whole Church of the Lord may prophesy?' For nowhere was there malice, no envy assailed any; the gifts of God were ministered to the peoples of God, and each one, according to what is written, sought to abound unto the edification of the Church. And all these things were done in charity, so that they anticipated one another in honour, and each esteemed the other better than himself. For the simpler folk admired and looked up to those who instructed the peoples through the wisdom of the word; but wise and learned men gave preference to those to whom a pure life and sincere simplicity gave a greater confidence in offering sacrifices to God, and to whom the office of immolating the sacrifice was permitted—men whom a homelier simplicity of life preserved in purity of heart.
10:6
sicsummostudioperquirebatquaepriusscriptisadoffieiumtuumdatissuperChristianorumnomine (conti-intellegitdicatiotuaetiam. alusreligionissuaewelobseruantiaepotestatem. simi-literaperiametliberamproquiete. temporısnostriesseconcessa(m) Lact. Im ... dequibus.. certaantehacformafuerat.
'... he sought out with the highest zeal the things which formerly, in the writings given to your office concerning the name of the Christians... your dedication also understands... to others the power of their own religion or observance. Likewise I will open and free for peace... that it be granted for the tranquillity of our time... concerning which... a fixed form had been established before.'
'...comprised—in a former time some also, either those who bought them or those who obtained them by gift, if they think fit, may request from our benevolence some compensation, whereby to them too through our clemency provision may be made.' Therefore, when with such simplicity the glory of the churches was advancing before God and men, and a certain image of heavenly things was held on earth, and above all things the devout prince Constantine exulted in such matters—growing day by day in faith and religion, being filled with inexplicable joy at the churches' progress—he did not think it enough for the priests of God that he should show himself their equal, unless he both far preferred them and venerated them as an image, as it were, of the divine presence; and while, for all these things, he was honoured by all no longer as an emperor but as a father, unhappy envy did not endure that the peace of our people should grow with joyful successes, or that his zeal toward us should endure unshaken.
For Licinius, who at first, on account of his uprightness of character and integrity of life and the merit of his virtues, had not only been taken by him into partnership of the empire, but had also been received into kinship by a marriage-bond—for he had received Constantine's sister in marriage—seeing that the emperor ruled over all not so much by force and fear as by love and religion, and was held in the highest veneration by all mortals, and especially by the Christians, being struck by a human vice—nay rather, smitten by the inhuman plague of envy—at first prepares by hidden snares to deceive the excellent prince, and contrives this above all through his intimates and servants.
But he, suspecting nothing indeed of his wiles and frauds, yet because he was wholly confident in God, fortified himself in all things by that sign which had been shown to him from heaven, nor could he by this means be made liable to any snares.
But Licinius, when neither the memory of benefits nor the grace of kinship could restrain the savagery of the crime he had conceived, nor yet did the snares through his hidden machinations succeed against him—reckoning that the emperor was aided by the prayers of the Christians and therefore remained safe—moved by foolish wrath, indeed declares open war on the emperor and defiles the faith and partnership of the empire, but prepares to persecute our people with a private and special hatred, alleging this as a grievance: that the Christians did not keep watch for him, as they did for Constantine, in the solemn prayers handed down to them by precept.
Therefore, by a reversed turn, he who a little before had most sharply taken vengeance on those who in the time of the tyrants had contrived anything cruel against the Christians, now hurls his weapons against our people, and stains the first sacrileges of his tyranny with the blood of our people. For first of all he orders that if anyone in his palace were a Christian, he should depart, and then also from all military service. After this the plague advanced, and by tyrannical edicts he decreed that all who professed themselves Christians should be thrust into prison. Yet straightway he found something in which to surpass his predecessors in cruelty. He adds to the edict, that no one should...
...bring food or drink to one sent into prison, saying that it was unjust that mercy should be shown and humanity offered to those whom he himself had condemned by his own laws. And so multitudes, thrust back into prison, [perished] by starvation; but, with the savagery of his mind increasing, even this seemed too little. Forthwith he extended the frenzy of his cruelty against the bishops and the other priests of God; and first he circumvented by cunning art all the more noble, and those whom a brighter fame had extolled or the repute of wisdom and learning had commended, and ordered them to be punished—with no inquiry into any charge held—on this ground alone, that they were denounced.
And now indeed, after this, with a mode of cruelty unheard of in all ages, all who had refused to acquiesce in defiled sacrifices he ordered to be handed over not to torturers, as his predecessor tyrants used to do, nor to tortures and punishments, but to butchers, that they might, hung up after the manner of swine and despised and laid upon blocks, cut them into pieces, and, divided into parts, cast them into the sea as food for fishes. The churches too, which in his own times he had caused to be built by common edicts, he himself again overthrew, and in all things strove hard to surpass in cruelty all the tyrants who had been before him.
Moreover, [he strove] to change laws to that rite, to pursue insatiable greed, to renew the census, and to fill fields empty of cultivators with tributes. Moreover, if he had sent into exile any who had been ensnared by unjust factions, [he strove] to tear away their wives from lawful marriages and join them to his own slaves and satellites; and he himself, even against the strength of his own age, delighted in adulteries and the corruption of virgins. But when, equipped with arms and 'virtues' of this kind, he began more fiercely to ply his tyranny, Constantine—who was adorned with true virtues and fortified with perfect piety toward God—prepares to go against so many and so great outrages.
Nor was there any difficulty for the victory, where both a juster cause and a purer faith and a more eminent virtue were found; and, Licinius being cast down and all memory of tyrannical domination taken away, he alone with his sons obtained the solidity of the Roman realm. Then indeed the condition of the state was held by an even moderation and a censure most worthy of the Roman name. Among the barbarous nations there was a mighty fear; but among the provincials the devotion of mind was greater than the fear. All things were quiet and tranquil from enemies and civil wars; joyful and secure, all mortals passed their time in peace. But the glory of the churches—it is incredible to relate with how great zeal of the devout emperor it grew, and how great was his care even for the expenditure of the needy.
For his soul, ardent in the faith of God, and his kindly and clement disposition, were fed by good works. And to such a degree did the goodness and tranquillity of present affairs prevail, that it bred forgetfulness of past evils. He had driven away the tyrannical laws against the Christians and had restored the civil right; moreover he conferred very many privileges upon the churches and the highest honours upon the priests. Thus, dear to God and to men, [he held] the summit of the Roman realm both with pure religion and also with virtue of soul and moderation above [measure]. They say it is the mark of skilled physicians that, when they see general diseases threatening cities or regions, they provide some kind of medicine or draught, whereby men, forearmed, may be defended from the impending destruction.
This you too, venerable father Chromatius, pursuing that kind of medicine at the time when—the barriers of Italy being burst open under Alaric the leader of the Goths—that pestilent [enemy brought deadly ruin], seeking some remedy of the fatal destruction for those committed to you by God, that they might be held occupied by [wholesome] pursuits, enjoin upon me that I should translate into Latin the ecclesiastical history which that most learned man Eusebius of Caesarea had composed in the Greek tongue, by the reading of which the mind of the hearers, bound fast, while it more eagerly seeks knowledge of the deeds done, might in a manner receive forgetfulness of the evils that were being wrought.
When I wished to excuse myself from this work—as being inferior and unequal to it, and as one who in so many years had lost the use of the Latin tongue—I considered that not without some order of apostolic instruction were you enjoining these things upon me. For when the Lord, on a certain occasion, when the crowds of hearers were hungering in the desert, had said to the apostles, 'Give ye them to eat,' Philip, one of the apostles, understanding that the emblems of the divine power shone the more brightly if they were accomplished by the ministries of the very least, did not bring forth loaves stored in the apostolic wallet, but says that a little boy was present having five loaves and two fishes; and modestly excusing him, he added: 'But what are these among so great a divine power?'
Knowing therefore that you too descend from those disciplines, recalling that perhaps after the example of Philip—when you saw the time for feeding the crowds—you have substituted a little boy, who would indeed supply five loaves doubled, as he had received them, yet, for the fulfilling of the evangelical mystery, would by his own labour add also two little fishes that he had caught—I have undertaken to carry out, as I could, what you had enjoined, being sure that the authority of him who enjoins will excuse the faults of my unskilfulness.
It should indeed be known that the tenth book of this work in the Greek, since it was very meagre in narrated deeds, being taken up with all the rest in panegyrical treatises on the bishops contributing nothing to the knowledge of events, I have—omitting those things which seemed superfluous—joined to the ninth book whatever it had of history, and in that book I have given an end to Eusebius's narrative. But the tenth and eleventh books I myself have composed, partly from the traditions of our elders, partly from those things which our own memory had already grasped; and these I have added, as it were two little fishes, to the loaves written above. And if you either approve or bless them, I shall confidently trust that they suffice for the crowds.
The whole work contains the affairs done in the Church from the ascension of the Saviour and thereafter. But since the text of the history has brought mention of the blessed Gregory, I think it most worthy to insert into the memory of posterity the deeds of so great a man, which [he wrought] under the eastern and northern [regions]. There was a certain pool situated in the regions of Pontus, abounding in fishes, from the catch of which most abundant revenues were rendered to the owners. This possession had fallen by lot of inheritance to two brothers. But the greed of money, which is cherished by almost all, [drove] the brothers at the time of fishing not so much to catch fishes as to deceive men; slaughters and wars were stirred up, and human blood was poured out for the sake of fishes. But the providence of God was at hand.
At some time [came] the help and coming of Gregory. He sees the battles and deaths of men, and, [asking] by what the brothers were inflamed, he inquires, and finds nothing but the catch of fishes. Then he—when, out of honour for his coming, both parties had for a little while fallen silent—said: 'Do not, O my little sons, violate rational souls for the sake of dumb animals, nor dissolve brotherly peace through the greed of gain; [do not] approach [things] deadly [to the soul]. I now, through the power of the Lord, will release you from all the contest of this bloody strife.' And when he had said these things, in the sight of all he fixes the rod which he held in his hand into the first waves of the shore, and himself, placing his knees on the ground, stretches out his palms to heaven, and in these words makes supplication to God on high:
'Thou, O Lord God of our fathers, who, when the first man Adam had sinned against thee and transgressed thy commandment, tempering the penalty of his fault, turnedst the sentence of malediction upon the earth, saying, «Cursed be the earth in thy works»: now therefore, having compassion on the brotherly blood of these young men, which is in peril, command that these waters be accursed in the works of these men, for whose sake, kindled with fury, they have forgotten brotherly love; so that never in this place may either a fish appear or water abide, but let it be a plain enduring the plough and fruitful of crops, and let it persevere as a guardian forever of brotherly concord.' As soon as he made an end of praying, straightway the water, withdrawing itself and fleeing back with a swifter course, being bidden to depart from the sight above, is restored to its own depths, and left a dry plain to the now-reconciled brothers.
But even to this day the soil is said to be fruitful of crops, which before had been fruitful of ships. There is also recorded another deed of his, more illustrious and more divine. In a certain place of narrow countryside, when the situation demanded that a church be built, a certain crag of a neighbouring mountain set in the way on the eastern side, and on the other a river flowing past, denied the space that would suffice for a church. And when they had no [place] for building the church, he, full of faith, is said to have passed the night in prayer and faithfully to have reminded the Lord Jesus of his own promise, by which he had said: 'If ye had faith as a grain of mustard seed, ye would say to this mountain: Take thyself up and cast thyself into the sea, and it would surely be done.'
And when he sought this with full faith and devotion, as the peoples gathered together toward the light the obstructing rock was found to have withdrawn just as much space as was needed. Very many other things besides are handed down concerning him; but lest we seem to draw out our discourse to great length, passing over the rest I will add just one more of his deeds. It is said that he once made a journey through the Alps in winter time, and when he had come to the highest ridge of the Alps, all things were filled with snow; there was no lodging anywhere. There was only a temple of Apollo there, into which he entered, and after the night had passed he departed. Now there was a certain priest of that temple, whose custom it was to consult the image of Apollo and to render responses to those who inquired, whence he seemed also to derive the gain of his sustenance.
So then, after Gregory had departed, the priest came according to custom to offer sacrifices and to seek oracles and responses, but no response came forth from thence. He repeated the victims; the silence remained. Again and again he made offering, but he was pouring out his tale to deaf ears. And when the priest was in a ferment of astonishment at this strange silence, at night the demon, standing beside him, said to him in his sleep: 'Why do you invoke me there, whither I can no longer come?' And when the priest asked the reason, it said that it had been driven out by the coming of Gregory. And when he inquired what remedy might now be given, it said that it was not permitted to it to enter that place in any other way unless Gregory allowed it. Having heard these things, the priest set out upon the road, turning many things over within himself and pondering with a reluctant mind.
He came to Gregory and, approaching him, laid out the matter in order; he reminded him of his own courtesy and hospitality, set forth his complaint about the expelled deity, lamented the loss of the means of his livelihood, and demanded that everything be restored to him in its former state. But Gregory, without any delay, wrote a letter in these words: 'Gregory to Apollo. I permit you to return to your place and to do the things you were accustomed to do.' The priest received this letter and carried it to the temple; and when it had been placed beside the image, the demon was present and gave responses to the one who inquired. Then that man, turning within himself, said:
'If Gregory commanded and this god departed, and could not return unless bidden, and was restored again at Gregory's bidding, how is Gregory not far better than this one, whose commands the god obeys?' Therefore, having closed the doors of the temple, he went down to Gregory, carrying with him the letter he had received, and disclosing to him the whole order of what had been done; and at the same time, prostrating himself at his feet, he begged that Gregory would offer him to that God by whose power Gregory held command over the gods of the nations. And when he persisted the more earnestly and stubbornly, he was made a catechumen by him. And when, forsaking all things, he had bound himself to a most chaste and abstinent life, not only from the errors of the demons but also from the pursuits of the world, he also obtained baptism.
And he advanced so far by the merit of his life and the virtue of his faith that he himself succeeded the blessed Gregory in the episcopate. Moreover, Gregory left us the greatest monuments of his genius in a small compass. For the same Gregory most magnificently composed a paraphrase upon Ecclesiastes, and left behind an exposition of the catholic faith, briefly set forth, which I have thought it fitting to add here for the edification of the churches: 'The Faith of Gregory, martyr and bishop of Neocaesarea. There is one God, the Father of the living Word, of subsisting Wisdom and Power, and of His own Image; the perfect begetter of the Perfect, the Father of the only-begotten Son.'
'There is one God, sole from the Sole, God from God, the figure and image of the Deity, the effectual Word, the Wisdom comprehending all things, and the Power by which the whole creation could be made; the true Son of the True, the Invisible of the Invisible, the Incorruptible of the Incorruptible, the Immortal of the Immortal, the Everlasting of the Everlasting. There is one Holy Spirit, having its substance from God, and who appeared through the Son; the Image of the perfect Son, the perfect Cause of the living, the Holiness that bestows sanctification, through whom God who is over all and in all is made known, and the Son through all. A perfect Trinity, in majesty and eternity and kingdom in no way divided nor estranged.'
'Therefore in the Trinity there is nothing made or serving, nor anything superadded, as though not subsisting before but afterward entering in from without. Thus the Son was never lacking to the Father, nor the Holy Spirit to the Son, but the same Trinity is unchangeable and immutable.' As for the remaining matters, which up to the present time have followed in order, whether we found them in the writings of our forefathers or our own memory has touched upon them, by the precepts of the pious father and in this our parents as far as we were able. Concerning the bishop Spyridon and his marvels. An example of the Nicene faith and its decrees. Concerning the cross of the Savior found in Jerusalem by Helena. Concerning the conversion of the nation of the Iberians brought about by a captive woman.
Concerning Constantia, sister of Constantine, and the presbyter she introduced to her brother. Concerning the conflict of Alexander and Eusebius and Arius. XVII. Concerning the council of the heretics at Tyre against Athanasius. XVIII. Concerning the severed arm of Arsenius and the other frauds of the heretics. XX. How the emperor Constans wrote to his brother Constantius on behalf of Athanasius and ordered him to be restored to his church. XXI. Concerning the council held at Milan and the exiles of Eusebius. XXIII. Concerning the bishops of Jerusalem and of Alexandria. XXV. Concerning the intermingling of bishops at Antioch. XXVI. Concerning the schism of the Arians, which was divided into three parts, some of them being Eunomians, others Macedonians, and others again... XXVII. Concerning the end of the emperor Constantius and the rise of Julian. XXVIII.
Concerning the council of the holy bishops at Alexandria and Lucifer. XXX. Concerning the things decreed in that same council. XXXI. Concerning Eusebius and Hilary and the restoration of the churches through them. XXXIII. Concerning the persecutions of Julian, both flattering and cunning. XXXIV. Concerning his savagery toward Athanasius the bishop. XXXVII. Concerning Theodore the confessor at Antioch.
XXXVIII. Concerning the attempts of the Jews, who, deceived by Julian, sought to rebuild the temple. XXXIX. How by an earthquake there and by fire kindled from heaven the Jews were driven off from the undertaking. XL. Concerning the terrifying signs and wonders, which were turned to their destruction. When at Alexandria, after Achillas, who had succeeded the martyr Peter, Alexander had taken up the priesthood, since there was peace and quiet for our people from persecutions, and the glory of the churches rejoiced in the merits of the confessors, the prosperity of our affairs was disturbed by a domestic contention. And a certain man, religious in appearance rather than in virtue, but wickedly greedy for glory and praise and novelty, began to put forward certain perverse notions concerning the faith of Christ, and matters that had never before come into question.
He attempted to cut off and separate the Son from that eternal and ineffable substance or nature of God the Father. The bishop, of a gentle and quiet nature, desired by constant admonitions to recall Arius from his depraved undertaking and impious assertions, yet the matter did not proceed according to his wish, since the contagion of that pestilent assertion had already infected very many, not only at Alexandria but, as became known, throughout other cities also. The report reached even the ears of the religious emperor, who indeed with all zeal and diligence took care of those things that are ours. Then he, on the advice of the bishops, ordered an episcopal council to be convened at the city of Nicaea, and that judgment be made concerning Arius's propositions and questions.
But in that council I do not think a remarkable deed of the emperor ought to be passed over in silence. For when the bishops had gathered from almost every place and, as usually happens, had brought forward certain quarrels among themselves from various causes, the emperor was frequently interrupted by individuals; petitions were presented, faults were set forth, and they gave their minds to these things more than to that for which they had come. But he, seeing that through quarrels of this kind the cause of the highest business was being frustrated, appointed a fixed day on which each of the bishops, if he seemed to have any complaint, should present it. And when he had taken his seat, he received the petitions from each. Holding all of them together in his bosom, and not opening them to reveal what was contained in them, he said to the bishops:
'God has appointed you priests and has given you power to judge concerning us as well, and therefore we are rightly judged by you; but you cannot be judged by men. On this account, await among yourselves the judgment of God alone, and let your quarrels, whatever they are, be reserved for that divine examination. For you have been given to us as gods by God, and it is not fitting that a man should judge gods, but only He of whom it is written: God stood in the assembly of the gods, and in the midst He discerns the gods. And therefore, setting aside these matters, which do not pertain to the faith of God, settle them without any contention of spirits.'
When he had said these things, he ordered all the petitions of complaints to be burned together, lest the rivalry of the priests should become known to any man. But when for many days in the council of bishops the question concerning the faith was being debated, and some held differing views and vehemently favored the undertakings of Arius, there were nonetheless more who execrated the impious enterprise. And since in that same council there was a great number of confessors among the priests, all of them opposed the novelties of Arius. But those who favored him were men crafty in disputations, and on that account hostile to the simplicity of the faith. Now how great a power the simplicity of faith possesses, we recognize also from those things which are reported to have been done there.
For when, at the zeal of the religious emperor, the priests of God had come together from every land, philosophers too, moved by report, and dialecticians most noble and most renowned, assembled. Among these a certain man distinguished in the art of dialectic stirred up, day by day, a contest of the highest struggle with our bishops, men likewise not inconsiderably learned in dialectic; and there arose a mighty spectacle, since no philosopher could be shut in or bound down by anyone of that class: for with such art of speaking did he meet the objections raised, that just where he seemed most tightly held, he would slip away like a slippery serpent.
But that God might show that the kingdom of God consists not in speech but in power, one of the confessors, a man of the most simple nature and knowing nothing else save Christ Jesus and Him crucified, was present among the other bishops who were listeners. When he had seen the philosopher insulting our people and boasting of the crafty art of his disputation, he asked from all a place, saying that he wished to converse a little with the philosopher. Then indeed our people, who knew the simplicity of the man and his inexperience in speech at least, were afraid and suffered a kind of shame, lest holy simplicity should be made a laughingstock among crafty men. The old man nevertheless persisted, and began the opening of his discourse thus.
'In the name of Jesus Christ,' he said, 'O philosopher, hear the things that are true. There is one God, who made heaven and earth, and who gave a spirit to man, whom He had formed from the clay of the earth; who created all things visible and invisible by the power of His Word and established them by the sanctification of His Spirit. This Word and Wisdom, whom we call the Son, having pity on human errors, is born of a Virgin, and by the suffering of His death freed us from perpetual death, and by His resurrection bestowed on us eternal life. And Him we also await as the coming Judge of all things that we do.
Do you believe that these things are so, O philosopher?' But he, as though he had never learned any speech of contradiction, so astounded by the power of the words, was rendered mute, and to all this could only answer that it seemed to him to be so, and that nothing else was true than what the man had said. Then the old man said: 'If you have believed that these things are so, arise and follow me to the church, and receive the seal of this faith.' And the philosopher, turning to his own disciples or to those who had gathered for the sake of hearing, said: 'Hear, O learned men; as long as the matter was carried on with words, I opposed words to words, and what was said I overthrew by the art of speaking. But when, in place of words, a power proceeded from the mouth of the speaker, words could not resist power, nor could a man oppose God.
And therefore, if any of you has been able, in the things that have been said, to perceive what I have perceived, let him believe in Christ and follow this old man, in whom God has spoken.' Thus the philosopher, having at last been made a Christian, congratulated himself on being conquered. There was moreover in that council also Paphnutius, a man of God, a bishop from the regions of Egypt, a confessor from among those whom Maximian had condemned to the mines with his right eye gouged out and his left knee hamstrung. But in this man there was so great a grace of virtues that signs were wrought through him no less than of old through the apostles. For he put demons to flight by a word alone, and healed the sick by prayer alone. But he is also said to have restored sight to the blind and to have recalled paralytics to the stability of their bodies.
Constantine held him in such veneration and affection that he often summoned him within the palace and embraced him, and would kiss that eye which had been gouged out in the confession of the faith. Of their number, and if there be any yet more eminent, is also said to have been Spyridon, the Cyprian bishop, a man of the order of the prophets, as far as we too have learned from the account of those who had seen him. This man, even when set in the episcopate, remained a shepherd of sheep. Now on a certain night, when thieves had come to the sheepfolds and had stretched out their wicked hands to make an entrance for leading out the sheep, they were held fast by certain invisible bonds and remained until daybreak as though handed over to torturers.
But when the old man betook himself in the early morning to lead the sheep out to pasture, he saw the young men hanging at the folds, bound fast without human fetters. And when he had learned the cause of the offense, he loosed by his word those whom their deserts had bound; and lest their nocturnal labor should turn out for them in vain, he said: 'Take, O young men, one ram for yourselves, lest you seem to have come without cause—one which you would better have sought by prayer than by theft.' They relate also this marvelous deed of him. He had a daughter named Irene, who, having ministered well to him, died a virgin. After her death a certain man came saying that he had entrusted a certain deposit to her. The father was ignorant of what had been done. Though sought throughout the whole house, what was demanded was found nowhere.
That man who had entrusted it persisted, and urged with weeping and tears, testifying that he would even bring about the end of his own life unless he received back what he had entrusted. Moved by his tears, the old man hastened to his daughter's tomb and called her by name. Then she answered from the tomb: 'What do you wish, father?' 'The deposit of this man,' he said, 'where did you place it?' But she, indicating the place, said: 'There you will find it buried.' Having returned to the house, he found the thing just as his daughter had answered from the tomb, and handed it over to the one demanding it back. But many other marvelous deeds of his are also related, which even now are celebrated on the lips of all.
Such then, and very many, were the men who in those times still shone forth in the churches of the Lord, of whom very many were present in that council. But Athanasius too, at that same time deacon of Alexander the Alexandrian bishop, was present, aiding the old man with very many counsels. Meanwhile, day by day the assembly was carried on, and they did not dare to decide such a great matter easily or rashly. Arius was frequently summoned into the council, and by continual discussion his assertions were examined, and it was sought with the utmost deliberation what ought to be held or decreed against these things.
But after long and much discussion it pleased all, and as though with the one mouth and heart of all it was decreed, that the homoousion ought to be written—that is, to confess the Son to be of the same substance with the Father—and this was pronounced by the most firm judgment of all. Only seventeen are then said to have been those to whom the faith of Arius rather pleased, affirming that the Son of God was created from without out of things not subsisting, and not begotten from the very Deity of the Father. The sentence of the priestly council was reported to Constantine. He venerated it as though brought forth by God, and protested that if anyone should attempt to resist it, he would act to send him into exile as one coming against divine decrees. So only six, together with Arius, suffered themselves to be expelled; but the rest subscribed with the tongue alone, not with the mind.
The chief author of this dissimulation was Eusebius, bishop of Nicomedia. Meanwhile, in one way or another—some by truth, some by dissimulation, as the outcome afterward showed—as they subscribed and fixed sure decrees concerning each and every ecclesiastical observance, the council was dissolved. 'We believe in one God the Father almighty, maker of all things visible and invisible; and in one Lord our Jesus Christ, God from God, light from light, true God from true God, begotten not made, homoousion with the Father, that is, of the same substance with the Father, through whom all things were made, both those in heaven and those on earth;
who for us men and for our salvation came down and was made flesh, and is thence to come to judge the living and the dead; and in the Holy Spirit. But those who say: There was a time when He was not, and before He was born He was not, and that He was made from things not subsisting, or who say that the Son of God is of another subsistence or substance, or changeable or mutable—these the catholic and apostolic church anathematizes.' That one baptized, before being examined more cautiously, should become a cleric. II. And that none of the bishops or of the other clerics should dwell with unrelated women, except with a mother or a sister or an aunt, or with such persons as are of these kinds of kinship. IV.
And that a bishop, if it can be done, should be ordained by the bishops of the whole province. If this is difficult, at least by no fewer than three, yet in such a way that the metropolitan bishop is especially had, either by his presence or by his authority; without which they willed the ordination to be invalid. V. And that whomever another bishop has expelled from the church, whether cleric or layman, another should not receive.
Indeed, lest this—being done unjustly out of some wrath or contention, as often happens—should have no remedy, they decree that each year, twice, in each and every province, councils ought to be held by all the provincial bishops, and that matters of this kind be judged; so that if perchance anything has been done unjustly by one, it may be corrected by the rest, and if rightly, it may be confirmed by all. VI. And that at Alexandria and in the city of Rome the ancient custom be preserved, since the former has authority over the churches of Egypt, and the latter over the suburbicarian churches. VII.
And that if perchance in ordaining a bishop two or three should dissent on account of some contention, the authority of the rest and especially of the metropolitan should prevail. VIII. And that to the bishop of Jerusalem the prerogative of honor anciently handed down be preserved, the dignity of the metropolitan himself nonetheless remaining. IX. And that the Cathari, who among us are the Novatians, if perchance repenting they should be converted to the church, having confessed the ecclesiastical doctrines, ought indeed to be received as clerics in their order, but with ordination given anew. Yet if their bishop should come to our bishop, he ought to sit in the place of the presbyters, but the name of bishop should remain with him alone who has always held the catholic faith:
unless of his own will he should wish to honor that man with such a name, or if it should please him to seek for him a vacant place of a bishop. X. And that in one city there should not be two bishops. XI. And if perchance any, having been indiscriminately advanced to the priesthood, afterward either themselves have confessed something criminal about themselves, or have been convicted by others, that they be cast out; but also if any of those who have lapsed and perchance through ignorance... XII. That if any have lapsed in persecutions without tortures and perform penance from the heart, they should spend five years among the catechumens, and for two years after this be joined to the faithful only in prayer, and so... XIII. But those who on account of the confession had cast off military service and again...
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adhaneambierunt, hostredecimannispaenitentiamgerereetpostea "suscipi, sitamenexcordepaenitentiamgerant. essetamenetin "potestateepiscopimoderandifacultatem, sieorumfructuosametadten-XIIII. Dehisvero, quivitaexcedunt, paenitentibusdecernuntvacuumÀnullumdeberedimitti. siquisaneaeceptacommunionesupervixerit, "debereeumtemporastatutaconplerevelcerteproutmoderariepiscopusXV. Decatechumenis, quiprolapsisunt, statuerunttribusanniseosacatechumenorumorationeseparatospostearecipidebere. XVI. Etnedecivitateinferioreadmaioremecclesiamtransirequisambiat, siveepiscopussiveetiamaliusclericus. XVII.
sought after this service again—these should do penance for thirteen years and afterward be received, if nevertheless they do penance from the heart. Yet it is also in the power of the bishop to moderate the term, if he perceives their penance to be fruitful and attentive. XIV. But concerning those who depart from life while penitent, they decree that none ought to be dismissed empty. If, however, anyone who has received communion should survive, he ought to complete the appointed times, or at least as the bishop shall moderate. XV. Concerning catechumens who have lapsed, they decreed that for three years they be separated from the prayer of the catechumens and afterward be received. XVI. And that no one, whether bishop or even another cleric, should aspire to pass from a lesser city to a greater church. XVII.
And that no cleric who, having deserted his own church with no probable cause existing, wanders and roves about through other churches, should be received into... XVIII. And that no one, stealing away one who belongs to another, should ordain him as a cleric in his own church without the consent of the one to whom he belongs. XIX. And that no cleric should either accept interest, or an increase of grain or wine—which is customarily received on a new loan as the half again or even double—and that if he does this, he be cast out as one guilty of base gain. XX. And that deacons should not be preferred to presbyters, nor sit in the assembly of the presbyters, nor distribute the eucharist in their presence; but... only then it is also permitted to them to distribute; and those acting otherwise are to be cast out. XXI.
And that the Paulianists, who are the Photinians, be rebaptized. XXII. But also the deaconesses, since indeed they do not receive the laying on of hands, that they too ought to be counted among the laity.
Therefore, when they had decreed concerning these matters, as the reverence for the divine laws had demanded, and had also handed down to the churches concerning the observance of Easter an ancient canon, through which no variety would thenceforth arise, all things having been duly arranged, the peace and faith of the churches in the regions of both East and West... About the same time Helena, mother of Constantine, an incomparable woman in faith, in religion of soul, and in singular magnificence—whose son Constantine both was and was believed to be—admonished by divine visions, sought Jerusalem, and there inquired of the inhabitants for the place in which the most sacred body of Christ had hung affixed to the gibbet.
That place was on this account difficult to find, because by the ancient persecutors an image of Venus had been set up in it, so that if any of the Christians had wished to adore Christ in that place, he would seem to adore Venus. And on this account the place had become little frequented and almost consigned to oblivion. But when, as we said above, the religious woman had hastened to the place designated to her by a heavenly indication, casting down from it all things profane and polluted, and when the rubble had been cleared away, she found deep down three crosses in confused order. But the undistinguished sameness of each cross disturbed the joy of the discovered gift.
There was present indeed also that title which had been inscribed by Pilate in Greek and Latin and Hebrew letters; but this uncertainty of human ambiguity now demanded a divine testimony. It happened that in the same city a certain woman of first rank of that place, worn out by a grave illness, lay half-dead. Macarius was at that time bishop of that church. When he saw the queen hesitating and all who were present likewise, he said: 'Bring hither all the crosses that have been found, and God will now reveal to us which it is that bore God.' And having entered, together with the queen and the people, to her who was lying sick, and having fixed his knees, he poured out a prayer of this kind to God: 'Thou, O Lord, who through Thine only-begotten Son...
deigned to confer salvation on the human race through the passion of the cross, and now in these last times hast breathed into the heart of Thy handmaid to seek out the blessed wood on which our salvation hung: show clearly, out of these three, which was the cross unto the Lord's glory, and which stood for servile punishment; so that this woman, who lies half-alive, as soon as the saving wood shall have touched her, may be recalled from the gates of death to life.'
And when he had said these things, he first applied one of the three, and nothing was accomplished; he applied the second, and not even so was anything done; but when he brought forward the third, suddenly, with her eyes opened, the woman rose up, and having recovered stability of strength, much more sprightly than when she had been well, she began to run about through the whole house and to magnify the power of the Lord. Thus by an evident sign the queen, made partaker of her vow, built a [church] on that spot. The nails also, with which the Lord's body had been affixed, she carried to her son. Out of these he made bridles, which he might use in war, and out of others he is said to have fashioned a helmet, likewise adapted to the uses of war.
But of the saving wood itself she brought part to her son, and part, enclosed in silver caskets, she left behind in the place, which even now is kept with careful veneration for a memorial. The queen also left this token of her religious spirit. It is said that she invited to a banquet the venerable virgins whom she found there consecrated to God, and cared for them with such devotion that she deemed it unworthy if they should use the services of servants; but she herself, girded in the garb of a serving-maid, would set out food with her own hands, hold out the cup, and pour water over their hands—and the queen of the world and mother of the empire accounted herself the handmaid of the handmaids of Christ. These things indeed were done at Jerusalem.
Meanwhile Constantine, relying on his piety, subdued by arms upon his own soil the Sarmatians, the Goths, and other barbarian nations—except those which had anticipated peace either by friendship or by their surrender. And the more religiously and humbly he had subjected himself to God, the more abundantly did God subject all things to him. To Antony too, the first inhabitant of the desert, he sent letters as suppliant as though to one of the prophets, that he might make supplication to the Lord on behalf of himself and his children. Thus he yearned to make himself commendable to God, not only by his own merits and by the religion of his mother, but also by the intercession of the saints.
Now since we have made mention of so great a man as Antony — of his virtues and manner of life and sobriety of mind, how, passing his life in solitude, he had only the company of wild beasts for his fellowship, and, winning frequent triumphs over the demons, was pleasing to God above all mortals, and how by his discipline he left to monks illustrious examples that endure even to this day — though I was willing to set forth some things concerning him, that little book excluded me from doing so, the one written by Athanasius and published also in the Latin tongue.
Wherefore, passing over those things which have already been told by others, we shall record those which, though grounded on the reliability of what was actually done, were nonetheless made known by men who dwelt far off. In that division of the earth which was carried out by lot through the apostles for the preaching of the word of God, when different provinces fell to different men, Parthia is said to have been allotted to Thomas, Ethiopia to Matthew, and to Bartholomew the nearer India that borders upon it. Between this India and Parthia, but lying deep within by a long stretch, lies farther India, inhabited by many and diverse tongues and nations; and this land, as being far removed, no ploughshare of apostolic preaching had touched. Yet in the times of Constantine it first received the seeds of the faith through some such occasion as this.
A certain philosopher named Metrodorus is said to have penetrated into farther India for the sake of viewing the regions and exploring the world. Invited by his example, a certain Tyrian philosopher named Meropius also wished, for a like reason, to visit India, having with him two young boys whom, as being his kinsmen, he was instructing in liberal letters. Of these, the one who was younger was called Aedesius, and the other Frumentius. So then, when he had seen and taken note of the things upon which his mind fed, and the philosopher had begun to return, the ship in which he was carried put in at a certain harbour for the sake of water and other necessaries.
It is the custom of the barbarians there that whenever the neighbouring nations report to them that their treaty with the Romans has been broken, all Romans found among them are put to the sword. The philosopher's ship was attacked, and all together with himself were slain. But the two boys, found beneath a tree studying and preparing their lessons, were spared out of the barbarians' pity and led to the king. Of these he made the one, that is Aedesius, his cupbearer, while to Frumentius, whom he had perceived to be sharp-witted and prudent, he entrusted his accounts and archives. From this they were held in great honour and affection by the king.
But when the king was dying, he left his wife with a little son as heir of the kingdom, and to the young men he gave free power to do what they wished. The queen, however, humbly entreated them — inasmuch as she had none more faithful in all the kingdom — to share with her the care of governing the realm until her son should come of age, and especially Frumentius, whose prudence sufficed to administer a kingdom; for Aedesius simply displayed a pure faith and a sober mind.
And while they did this, and Frumentius held the helm of the kingdom in his hands, God stirring his mind and heart, he began to inquire more diligently whether there were any Christians among the Roman merchants, and to give them the greatest liberty and to urge them to hold assemblies in the various places, to which they might come together after the Roman manner for the sake of prayer. And he himself did the same still more zealously, and thus encouraged the rest, inviting them by favour and benefits, supplying whatever was needful, providing places for buildings and other necessities, and striving in every way that the seed of Christians might arise there.
But when the royal boy for whom they were exercising the administration of the kingdom had grown up, having accomplished everything and faithfully handed it over, though the queen and her son much detained them and begged them to remain, they nonetheless returned again to our world. And while Aedesius hastened to Tyre to see again his parents and kinsmen, Frumentius went on to Alexandria, saying that it was not right to hide the Lord's work. So he laid the whole matter before the bishop, as it had been done, and urged him to provide some worthy man whom, now that many Christians were gathered and churches built on barbarian soil, he might send as bishop.
Then indeed Athanasius — for he had lately received the priesthood — considering the words and deeds of Frumentius more attentively and carefully, said in the council of the priests: «And what other man do we find such as this, in whom the Spirit of God is as it is in you, who can so fulfil these things?» And bestowing the priesthood upon him, he bade him return with the Lord's grace to the place whence he had come. And when this bishop had gone on to India, so great a grace of miracles is said to have been given him by God, that apostolic signs were wrought through him, and a countless number of barbarians were converted to the faith. From this there arose in the regions of India both peoples of Christians and churches, and the priesthood had its beginning.
These things we relate as having so come to pass not by common report, but on the account of Aedesius himself, who was afterward made a presbyter at Tyre and who had earlier been Frumentius's companion. About the same time also the nation of the Iberians, which lies under the Pontic pole, received the covenants of the word of God and the faith of the kingdom to come. But of this so great a blessing a certain captive woman furnished the occasion; for being found among them, and leading a life faithful enough and sober and chaste, and offering to God vigils of supplication all day and all night, the very novelty of the thing began to be a marvel to the barbarians. And they inquired more curiously what this might mean. She, as the case was, simply confessed that she worshipped Christ as God by this rite.
At this the barbarians marvelled at nothing further than the novelty of the name. But, as usually happens, her very perseverance instilled a certain curiosity in the little women, whether any benefit might be gained from so great a devotion. It is said to be the custom among them that, if a little child fall sick, it is carried about by its mother through the several houses, so that if anyone who has had experience should know some remedy, he might contribute it to the ailing child. And when a certain woman had carried her little one about to all, according to custom, and had obtained no remedy by going through all the houses, she came also to the captive, that she might show whether she knew anything. She testified indeed that she knew no human remedy, but affirmed that her God Christ, whom she worshipped, was able to give the child the salvation despaired of by men.
And when she had laid the little one upon her haircloth garment and had herself poured out a prayer over him to the Lord, she gave the infant back healed to its mother. The report was carried to many, and the fame of the wondrous deed spread even to the ears of the queen, who, afflicted with some very grave bodily suffering, was in the utmost despair. She asked that the captive be brought to her. The captive refused to go, lest she should seem to presume anything more than her sex permitted. The queen ordered that she herself be carried to the captive's little cell.
When she had likewise laid her upon her haircloth garment and invoked the name of Christ, straightway after the prayer she made her rise up sound and lively; and she taught that Christ was God, the Son of the most high God, who had conferred this salvation, and reminded her that He must be invoked whom she knew to be the author of her own soundness and life — for it was He indeed who both distributes kingdoms to kings and life to mortals. But she, having returned home with joy, disclosed to her husband, who asked the cause of so sudden a recovery. And when he, glad for his wife's health, ordered gifts to be brought to the woman, she said: «Of these things, O king, the captive esteems nothing worthy.»
«She despises gold, rejects silver, feeds on fasting as though on food; this alone shall we give her as a gift: that we worship as God that Christ who healed me at her invocation.» At this the king was then rather slow and for a time deferred it, though he was often urged by his wife. It happened afterward, while he was hunting in the forests with his companions, that the day was overcast with the thickest darkness, and through the horror of a foul night, with the light withdrawn, a blind journey was denied to their groping steps.
His companions wandered off, one this way, one that; he alone, surrounded by the thickest gloom, knew not what to do nor whither to turn, when suddenly, to his anxious spirit despairing of safety, such a thought arose: if that Christ whom the captive had proclaimed to his wife were truly God, let Him now deliver him from this darkness, that, forsaking all else, he might henceforth worship Him. And no sooner had he vowed this, not yet in word but only in mind, than the day, restored to the world, brought the king unharmed to the city. He at once disclosed to the queen the matter as it had happened. He demanded that the captive be summoned there and then and hand over to him the rite of worship, and affirmed that he would henceforth worship no other god than Christ.
The captive came, taught him about Christ the God, and unfolded the manner of supplicating and worshipping Him, in so far as it was lawful to disclose these things to a woman. She nonetheless advised that a church be built, and described its form. So the king, having called together the whole people of the nation, set forth the matter from the beginning — what had been done concerning himself and the queen — and taught the faith; and though not yet initiated into the sacred mysteries, he became the apostle of his own nation. The men believed through the king, the women through the queen, and, all wishing the same, a church was earnestly built. And when the circuit of the walls had already been swiftly raised, the time had come when the columns ought to be set in place.
And when the first and second had been erected and they had come to the third, though all the machines and the strength of oxen and men were exhausted, and it had already been raised halfway aslant while the remaining part could be lifted by no machines, and though their strength was applied a second and a third time and more often, it could not be moved even from its place, all being worn out. There was amazement in the whole people; the king's spirits were flagging; all mortals and the very works ceased. The captive alone remained within, passing the night in prayer.
When behold, in the morning, the king entering anxiously with all his people sees the column — which so many machines and so many people had been unable to move — erected and hanging poised above its base, yet not set upon it, but hanging in the air about the space of a single foot. Then indeed all the peoples, beholding and magnifying God, bore witness by the testimony of the present miracle that the king's faith and the captive's religion were true. And behold, while all still marvelled and stood amazed, before their very eyes the column, with none touching it, was gently lowered upon its base and settled with perfect balance.
After this the remaining number of columns was set in place with such ease, and the church was so magnificently constructed, and the peoples thirsted with greater ardour for faith in God, that, at the captive's admonition, an embassy of the whole nation was sent to the emperor Constantine. The whole affair was set forth. He was entreated to send priests who might complete the gift of God begun among them. And when he had sent these to them with all joy and honour, he was much more gladdened by this than if he had joined to the Roman empire nations unknown and kingdoms unheard of.
These things, as thus done, were set forth to us by that most faithful man Bacurius, king of that very nation and among us count of the domestics, whose greatest care was for both religion and truth, when at that time he was living with us at Jerusalem, quite harmoniously, as duke of the Palestinian frontier. But let us return to what we began. After Helena, the mother of the religious prince, endowed with the highest honours of the Roman realm, had departed from this light, Constantia, then left the widow of Licinius, enjoyed the solace of her brother Augustus.
It happened that a certain presbyter opened up matters of this sort in the presence of the prince's sister; and when much familiarity granted him opportunity, he began little by little to sprinkle in his talk, saying that envy had been engendered against Arius, and that his own bishop, goaded by the sting of rivalry, had contentiously stirred up the affair on account of private quarrels, because Arius was held dear enough among the common people. By suggesting these and other things of this kind more frequently, he won over the mind of Constantia to his own.
When she, being about to die, was visited by her brother and was gently and reverently addressed by him, she is said to have begged of him as a last favour, that he would receive the presbyter into his familiarity and would listen to whatever things should be suggested to him by that man for his hope and salvation; saying that she indeed, now departing from the light, cared for nothing, but was anxious for her brother's estate, lest perchance for the punishment of the innocent he might suffer the ruin of his kingdom. Having received these admonitions from his sister, and believing his own sister's solicitude on his behalf to be faithful, he lent his ear to the presbyter, and meanwhile ordered Arius to be summoned from exile, that he might set forth how he thought concerning the faith.
Then that man drew up a confession of faith which seemed to contain not indeed our meaning, yet our words and profession. The emperor indeed marvelled, and thought that one and the same doctrine was contained in his exposition and in that of the council formerly held.
Yet he in no way relaxed the vigour of his mind, but sent him back again to the examination of a council, since, indeed, priests were being invited to come together from all the world for the dedication of Jerusalem. He wrote to them concerning his name, that, if they approved the exposition of his faith and recognized that he had either been circumvented at that time through envy, as he alleged, or was now corrected from his error, they might use a clement judgment toward him — seeing that the moderation of the council had been so great that the assent even of his bishop Alexander should be accommodated to it, and not overthrown. But by those who at first, favouring his undertakings, had subscribed with dissimulation, he was easily received.
But when he had gone on to Alexandria, there his whole undertaking was frustrated, since indeed there is room for deceits among the ignorant, but to aim deceit at those who know it is nothing else than to provoke laughter. Meanwhile, while these things were being vainly agitated at Alexandria, the venerable Augustus Constantine, in a suburban villa of Nicomedia, in the thirty-first year of his reign, ended his days, having by testament written his children heirs to the succession of the Roman world.
At which time, since indeed Constantius, to whom he had decreed the kingdom of the East, was not present, it is said that he secretly summoned [a certain presbyter], whom he had thereafter treated familiarly, and delivered to him the testament which he had written, and adjured him under oath to hand it into no one's hands but Constantius's, when he should have come. And because the eunuchs who were in the palace also favoured this, by their art the report of the emperor's death was suppressed until the arrival of Constantius. But when Constantius had come, the presbyter restored the deposit. For the grace of this benefit the emperor, greedy of empire, was so bound to him that he who had striven to command all men suffered himself with an even mind to be commanded by that man.
From this, with the emperor bound to himself, he began to press for the restoration of Arius and to persuade him to compel the unwilling priests to acquiesce. At that time at Alexandria Alexander, at Jerusalem Maximus the confessor, at Constantinople likewise Alexander — as we have learned from the writings of Athanasius — were exercising the priesthood. But Eusebius, who was at Nicomedia, of whose dissimulation in subscribing we spoke above, having obtained an ample space of time and become familiar to the prince through the presbyter, contrived to overturn everything and to recall the acts of the council to nought. He caused Arius, who was vainly tarrying at Alexandria, to come, and by imperial edicts a council to be summoned once more to Constantinople.
There assembled chiefly those who followed Arius and Eusebius, who, having often conferred with Alexander that he should receive Arius, yet accomplishing nothing, did not even refrain from injuries against him. At last, appointing him a fixed day, they gave notice that either he himself should receive Arius, or, if he resisted, he should know that, being driven from the church and thrust into exile, Arius was to be received by another. Then he, on the night which lay before the appointed day, lying beneath the altar and passing the whole night vigilant in prayer and tears, commended the cause of the church to the Lord.
And when the light had risen and yet Alexander did not cease from prayer, Eusebius with all his followers, like the standard-bearer of a heretical war, went up in the morning to the house of Arius and bade him follow quickly to the church, protesting that Alexander, unless he there acquiesced, should be expelled and yield his place. So then there was the highest expectation of all, to which side the perseverance of Alexander or the insistence of Eusebius and Arius would incline. And when the minds of all were held in suspense with expectation, as in such a matter, Arius, going to the church, thronged by a crowd of bishops and peoples, turned aside to a public place for the cause of human necessity.
When he had sat down there, his intestines and all his inward parts flowed out into the pit of the privy; and so in such a place he paid the death worthy of his blasphemous and foul mind. When this had afterward been announced in the church to Eusebius and to those who together with him were wearying that holy and innocent man Alexander about receiving Arius, they, overcome with shame and covered with confusion, departed. Then was fulfilled the word unto the glory of the Lord which Alexander had proclaimed to God in his prayer, saying:
«Judge, O Lord, between me and the threats of Eusebius and the violence of Arius.» But these things for the present had indeed a little effect of shame; yet the heretics, conferring among themselves, and fearing lest perchance, if the affair as it was done should come whole to the emperor Constantius, he might not only withdraw from their perfidy, in which he was cunningly ensnared and held, but also decree something more severe by royal authority against the authors of his deception, arranged through the eunuchs, whom they held already deceived in the perfidy, that the emperor should learn of Arius's death as composedly and as generally as possible, and should hear nothing that might seem to indicate God's vengeance.
When these things had thus been done concerning the matter — Now at Alexandria, upon the death of Alexander, Athanasius had received the see. But that this same man was of keen intellect and exceedingly vigilant in ecclesiastical affairs had already then become sufficiently known to the heretics, when he had come to the council at Nicaea with his aged bishop Alexander, by whose suggestions the deceits and fallacies of the heretics were vigilantly detected. As soon, therefore, as they learned that he had been made bishop, judging — as the case showed — that their affairs would not easily prosper through his solicitude, they set about in every way to devise against him the engines of deception.
But it does not seem to me out of order to repeat above a few things concerning this man's origin, and of what training he had been from a boy, as we have received it from those who had passed their life with him, and to record it. At the time when at Alexandria bishop Alexander was keeping the day of Peter the martyr, when, after the solemnities were completed, he was awaiting the clergy who were to come together to his banquet in a place near the sea, he sees from afar boys upon the shore of the sea imitating in play, as is wont to be done, a bishop and those things which it is the custom to do in the churches. But when he had intently and for a long while watched the boys, he sees certain more secret and mystical things being enacted by them. Immediately perturbed, he ordered the clergy to be called to him and showed them what he himself was seeing from afar.
Then he commanded them to go and to bring all the boys, arrested, to him. And when they were present, he inquired what game was theirs and what they had done, and how. They, as such an age is wont, at first denied through fear, then disclosed the deed in order, and confessed that certain catechumens had been baptized by them through Athanasius, who had been the make-believe bishop of that boyish game.
Then he, diligently inquiring of those who were said to have been baptized what they had been asked and what they had answered, and likewise of him who had asked, when he sees that everything held according to the rite of our religion, having conferred with the council of the clergy, is reported to have determined that for those upon whom the water had been poured with the questions and answers entire, the baptism ought not to be repeated; but those whom that game had appeared to have as presbyters or as ministers, the parents being called together, he handed over to the church to be nurtured, under the adjuration of God.
When Athanasius had been instructed even a little, he was straightway restored by his parents to the priest, like a faithful thing of the Lord's committed to trust, and, like a certain Samuel, was nurtured in the temple of the Lord; and by him, as he was going to the fathers in a good old age, Athanasius was chosen to carry after him the priestly ephod. But so great were this man's struggles in the church for the integrity of the faith, that even concerning him that seems to have been spoken which is written: «For I will show him how much he must suffer for my name's sake.» For against his persecutions the whole world conspired, and the princes of the earth were stirred up; nations, kingdoms, and armies came together against him. But he preserved that divine saying, saying:
«If an army encamp against me, my heart shall not fear; if battle rise up against me, in this will I hope.» But since his deeds are so many and so great that the magnitude of the matters suffers me to pass over nothing, while the multitude of the deeds, being exceedingly great, compels me to omit much, my mind wavers in uncertainty, being unable to decide what to keep and what to leave out. And therefore we shall record the few things which pertain to the matter; the rest his fame will narrate — reporting, without doubt, less than the truth. For it will find nothing that it can add. So then, when Constantius alone obtained the kingdom of the East — Constantine his brother having been slain by the soldiers not far from Aquileia at the river Alsa — Constans, brother of both, governed the West industriously enough.
For Constantius, by nature and with a royal disposition, while he indulged too much those first fosterers of his reign, was through the eunuchs craftily deceived into perfidy by perverse priests, and with intent enough zeal complied with their depraved contentions. But they, fearing lest perchance the opportunity of approaching the king should at some time be given to Athanasius, and through him the truth of the faith, which they were perverting, should be taught according to the Scriptures, set about in every way to accuse him before the prince and to represent him as guilty of all crimes and disgraces — to the point that they showed the emperor an arm of a human body carried in a casket, which they affirmed had been cut off by Athanasius, for the sake of the magic art, from the body of a certain Arsenius.
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sedetaliaquamplurimaeriminosasimuletflagitiosaconponunt, quibusexcausisimperatoriuberetconvocatop. CXVIIaed. Bened. Phot. p. 481a,. Symeon. Vit. Athanas. p. CXLIVbsuounoexcomitibus, adnitentequoqueArchelaotunccomiteorientisnecnoneteo, quiFoenicenprovinciamgubernabat, congregariiubet. eodedueiturAthanasius, loculuscumhumanobrachiocircumfertur, in-vidiaehorrornonsolumreligiosas, sedetvilesanimaspervadit.
But they compose also very many other criminal and at the same time disgraceful charges, for which causes the emperor ordered — one of his companions being summoned, and with the further support of Archelaus, then count of the East, as well as of him who governed the province of Phoenicia — that a council be gathered. Thither Athanasius was led; the casket with the human arm was carried about; the horror of the odious spectacle pervaded not only religious but also base souls.
Now this Arsenius, whose arm was said to have been cut off, had at one time been a reader of Athanasius, and, dreading correction on account of a fault, had withdrawn himself from the assembly. Those disgraceful men, thinking at the outset of their concocted charge, kept him hidden with a certain person whom they had believed most trustworthy for their crimes, retained him — that the charge might be brought against Athanasius; and whether the very contemplation of humanity or divine providence impelled him, escaping secretly through the silence of night, he sailed out from his confinement to Tyre, and on the day before the last day for pleading the case, Arsenius presented himself to Athanasius and informed him how the course of events stood. Athanasius bade the man be at his house and that his presence be made known to no one.
Meanwhile the council was convened, into which quite a number of those privy to the concocted calumny came together, almost all with hostile mind and prejudgment against Athanasius. About the same time Paphnutius the confessor, of whom we made mention above, was present, being conscious of Athanasius's innocence. When he had seen Maximus, bishop of Jerusalem, who together with him had stood forth a confessor with an eye gouged out and a knee-tendon severed, but who out of excessive simplicity suspected nothing of the priests' wickedness, seated with the rest whom the stain of the faction had made allies, he did not hesitate to approach the midst of the assembly:
'You,' he said, 'O Maximus, with whom I share one and the same badge of confession, with whom my mortal sight was likewise gouged out and thereby won for me a clearer vision of the divine light — you, I say, I will not suffer to sit in the council of the malicious, nor to enter in with those who work iniquity.' And laying his hand upon him, he raised him up from their midst; and instructing him point by point, he thereafter joined Athanasius to himself in perpetual communion. But meanwhile the case is set forth. First is brought in the accusation of a certain woman, who claimed that on some occasion she had received Athanasius into her lodging, and that by night, while she suspected nothing, she had suffered from him the violence of defilement. Athanasius is ordered to be brought in to answer these charges.
He entered together with his presbyter Timothy, and admonished him that, after the woman had finished her speaking, Timothy himself should answer to what she had said, while Athanasius remained silent. And when the woman had finished delivering what she had been schooled in, Timothy turned to her and said: 'Truly, woman, did I ever lodge with you? Or did I do you violence, as you assert?' Then she, with the shamelessness such women have, thrusting her hook at Timothy, cried: 'You, you did violence to me; you in that very place defiled my chastity!' At the same time, turning to the judges, she began to call the faith of God to witness that she was speaking the truth. Then a ridiculous shame began to seize them all, because so easily, while the true defendant was silent, the fabrication of the trumped-up crime had been laid bare.
Yet the judges were not permitted to hold an inquiry concerning the woman — whence, or through whom, or in what manner this slander had been contrived — since the liberty of judgment lay with the accusers themselves. From here they pass to another charge. A deed unheard of in all the ages is brought forward. 'This,' they say, 'is a matter in which no one can be deceived by the trickery of words; the thing is enacted before the eyes, while words fall silent. This arm, Athanasius,' they say, 'accuses you of having severed it. This is the right hand of Arsenius; declare in what manner, or for what uses, you cut it off.' Then he replied: 'Who among you knew Arsenius, that you should recognize this to be his right hand?'
Several rose up who said they knew Arsenius very well, among whom some were without complicity in the plot. Athanasius then begged the judges that they would order his own man, whom the matter required, to be brought in. And when Arsenius had been brought in, Athanasius, lifting up his face, said to the council and the judges: 'This is Arsenius.' And raising up his right hand no less, he said: 'This too is his right hand, and this is his left. But as for this hand which these men present, look you into whence it comes.' Then, as it were a kind of night and darkness was poured over the eyes of the accusers; they knew not what to do, nor whither to turn. For the very witnesses who a little before had said they knew him were now confirming that this was indeed Arsenius.
But since the council was being held not for the purpose of judging the man, but of crushing him, a sudden uproar arose from them all; it was clamored that Athanasius was a magician and deceived the eyes of the beholders, and that such a man ought by no means to live any longer. And making a rush upon him, they prepared to tear him apart with their own hands. But Archelaus, who together with the others presided over the council by the emperor's command, snatched him out of the hands of those who would have torn him and led him out through hidden exits, and counseled him to entrust his safety to flight, wherever alone he might. [The remainder condemns Athanasius as one who had confessed, so to speak, to the charges laid against him.]
And having so contrived the proceedings, they sent word throughout the whole world; and with the emperor compelling the assent of the rest of the bishops to their crime, from this point Athanasius is now driven a fugitive over the whole earth, nor was any place safe for him; and men are stirred up by imperial edicts to search him out. Rewards are offered to informers, if anyone should bring in Athanasius alive if possible, or at least his head. Thus with all the might of the realm they moved against him in vain — the man for whom, hidden in the pit of a waterless cistern, it seemed he had never seen the sun. But as it happened, when he had been betrayed, admonished as it were by the Spirit of God on the very night on which men were coming with informers to seize him, after six years he removed to another place.
Thus those who had come were frustrated, and their masters too were turned to flight, so that punishment should be sought from the innocent maidservant as a false informer. Presuming nothing henceforth to be safe for himself in the kingdom of Constantius, Athanasius withdrew as a fugitive to the domains of Constans. By him he was received with sufficient honor and reverence; and Constans, having more carefully learned the cause of Athanasius, which he had come to know by report, wrote to his brother that he had ascertained for certain that Athanasius, priest of the Most High God, was suffering unjust flights and exiles.
He would therefore do rightly if without any trouble he restored Athanasius to his own see; but if he would not, Constans declared that it would be his own care to accomplish this himself, penetrating into the innermost parts of his brother's realm and exacting from the authors of the crime the most fitting punishments that he threatened. His brother, aware of this, feigning kindness, of his own accord bids Athanasius come to him, and having touched him with a light reproof, permits him to go in safety to his own church. Yet the emperor, admonished by wicked counselors, said: 'It is no great thing, Athanasius, that the bishops ask of you — that of the many churches which are at Alexandria you concede one to the congregations of those who are unwilling to commune with you.' Then Athanasius, God suggesting it to him, found a counsel ready for the occasion.
'And what is there, O emperor,' he said, 'that could be denied to you when you ask, you who hold the power of commanding all things? But there is one thing which I pray, that you would also gladly grant my little petition.' And when the emperor promised that he would perform all that Athanasius wished, however difficult they might be, if he would willingly yield this one thing, Athanasius said: 'This is what I ask, that — since here too' (for the matter was being transacted at Antioch) 'there are peoples of ours who are unwilling to commune with those men — one church be granted them to hold.' The emperor, well pleased, promised that this seemed to him most equitable and greatly to be granted.
But when he had referred the matter to those whose counsels he was using, they answered that they were unwilling either to receive a church there or to give one here, because each man was consulting more for himself than for the absent. Thus the emperor, marveling at Athanasius's prudence, bids him hasten more quickly to take up his own church. But when the emperor Constans, through the crime of Magnentius, was cut off from his kingdom and his life at once, those old instigators once again began to rouse up hatreds against Athanasius in the prince; and having driven him from the church, they send in his place a certain George, an associate of their own perfidy and savagery. [For previously certain rewards were being promised to informers.]
He too, when he had come to the western parts to avenge his brother's murder and recover the kingdom, and when, the tyrant being extinguished, he alone held the citadel of the realm, sets about to wear down the western bishops and, through deception, to force them into consent with the Arian heresy — the condemnation of Athanasius having first been sent ahead as it were a most powerful battering-ram of siege. On this account a council of bishops is convened at Milan. Many were deceived; but Dionysius, Eusebius, Paulinus, Rhodanius, and Lucifer, proclaiming that there was fraud in the business, and asserting that the subscription against Athanasius was contrived for no other cause than the destruction of the faith, were thrust into exile.
To these Hilary too is joined, being either unknown to the rest or disregarded. But the outcome of the affair showed that the business had been carried out with such a design. There, according to what the Easterners had composed at Seleucia, these crafty and cunning men easily circumvented the simple and inexperienced priests of the West, proposing to them in this manner: whom did they wish rather to honor and adore, the homoousion or Christ? And since those men were ignorant of the force of the word — what 'homoousion' signified — the term was, as it were, brought into a kind of loathing and execration, they affirming that they believed in Christ, not in the homoousion.
Thus the minds of many — except a few who fell knowingly — were deceived, and coming against what the fathers had written at Nicaea, they defile the word 'homoousion' as though it were unknown and alien to the Scriptures, [contaminating themselves] with the fellowship of the heretics. In that storm the face of the Church was foul and exceedingly base; for it was being ravaged not, as before, by outsiders, but by her own. One drove into flight, another was driven; and each belonged to the Church. Nowhere was there an altar, nor sacrifice, nor libations; yet prevarication and lapse were being wrought, but they did not glory alike, because the Church grieved even [over her own]. Therefore Liberius, who at that same time was fulfilling the priesthood in the city of Rome as successor after Julius (son of Marcus, whom Silvester had preceded), [another] is substituted in his place.
And [the Church was divided] not so much by diversity of sect as by that of communion and ordination. But at Jerusalem Cyril, having received the priesthood after Maximus with an ordination already confused, sometimes varied in faith, more often in communion. At Alexandria, however, George exercised the episcopate which he had seized quite shamelessly by force, so that he reckoned that the fasces of jurisdiction had been entrusted to him rather than a priesthood to be administered by devout offices. At Antioch indeed many things were done, and very confusedly, at various times. For when Eudoxius had died and many bishops of various cities were striving after that see with the utmost ambition, at last, against the decrees of the council, they transfer thither Meletius from Sebaste, a city of Armenia.
Yet he too is again thrust into exile by those very men, because, contrary to their expectation, he began to preach in the church not the faith of Arius, but ours. A great crowd, following him after he had been expelled from the church, was severed from the heretics [and clung to him]. Meanwhile, so that at length exceeding-rich malice might rage even against its very self, [these Antiochenes,] cut off from the church, are split once more into three sects and parties.
For those men whom we mentioned a little above as not acquiescing in the dissimulations of Eusebius and the rest, and as having endured exile together with Arius, afterwards refused to commune even with Arius himself when he returned from exile, on the ground that by a feigned confession he had communed with those who confessed the Son to be of the very substance of God the Father; for they themselves [held] what Arius had first taught — that the Son was created and made out of things non-existent, not begotten — with sufficient free, or rather shameless, blasphemy. [Eunomius,] corrupted by an inward and outward royal disease, yet exceedingly powerful in dialectical art, wrote many things against our faith and gave laws of disputation to his followers; from whom even now the Eunomian heresy is named.
Another too, Macedonius by name, whom, after our men had been expelled — nay rather slain — they had set up as bishop at Constantinople, because he confessed the Son to be like the Father, although he blasphemed the Holy Spirit equally as those men did, was nevertheless expelled by them, because he preached the Son too to be similar, as concerning the Father. Yet neither is he joined to our men, from whom he held a different opinion concerning the Spirit.
Thus that pestilential beast, which through Arius had first raised its head as it were from the nether world, suddenly appeared three-formed: through the Eunomians, who say the Son is in all things unlike the Father, because in no way can the thing made be like the maker; through the Arians, who say the Son can indeed be called like the Father, but by the bounty of grace, not by the property of nature — that is, insofar as a creature can be compared to the Creator; and through the Macedonians, who say the Son is indeed like the Father in all things, but that the Holy Spirit has nothing in common with the Father and the Son. These things indeed were done among them thus; but even as it is written concerning such:
'They were torn asunder and were not pricked in heart' (Ps. 34:16). Very many of them indeed, who seemed to lead a more attentive life, and very many monasteries at Constantinople and the neighboring provinces, and noble bishops, rather followed the error of Macedonius. But the emperor Constantius, while he is preparing to go with arms to meet Julian — whom he had left as Caesar in Gaul, and who of his own accord was presuming to himself the dignity of Augustus — died in the twenty-fourth year of his reign after his father's death, in the town of Mopsucrenae in Cilicia. After him Julian obtains the principate, first presumptuously seized, then as legitimate, and now alone. He at first, as though censuring the misdeeds of Constantius, bids the bishops be released from exile; but afterwards he rises up against our men with the whole art of doing harm.
Meanwhile those bishops who had survived are released from their exiles. For Liberius, bishop of the city of Rome, returned while Constantius was still living; but whether this was because he had acquiesced in the emperor's will as to subscribing, or because he had yielded for the favor of the Roman people, by whom on departing he had been besought with entreaties, I do not hold ascertained for certain.
But Lucifer, when he was entreated by Eusebius — since both had been banished to the regions neighboring Egypt — that they should proceed to Alexandria to see Athanasius, and by common deliberation with the priests who had survived should decide concerning the state of the Church, refusing his own presence, sends his deacon as legate in his stead; and he himself with intent mind proceeds to Antioch. And there, the parties being still at variance, but hoping that they could nevertheless be recalled into unity if such a bishop were chosen toward whom not one congregation but both would rejoice, being over-hasty, he installed indeed a Catholic and holy man, and in all respects worthy of the priesthood, Paulinus as bishop — but one in whom both congregations could not acquiesce.
Meanwhile Eusebius proceeds to Alexandria; and there, a council of confessors having been gathered — few in number, but sound in faith and great in merits — they discuss with all care and deliberation by what means, after the storms of the heretics and the whirlwinds of perfidy, tranquillity might be recalled to the Church. To those who were fervent with the heat of the faith it seemed that no one ought henceforth to be received into the priesthood who had in any way stained himself with the contagion of heretical communion.
But those who, imitating the Apostle, sought not what was profitable to themselves, but what was profitable to the many (1 Cor. 10:33); or who imitated Christ, who, though he was the life of all, for the salvation of all humbling himself descended into death, that so life might be found even among the dead — these said that it was better to humble oneself a little for the sake of the fallen and to bend down for the sake of the crushed, that they might raise them up again, and not to defend the kingdoms of heaven for themselves alone by the merit of purity, but that it was more glorious to merit to enter thither with the many; and therefore it seemed right to them that, only the authors of the perfidy being cut off, to the remaining priests the option be given, if perchance, forswearing the error of perfidy, they should wish to be converted to the faith of the fathers and its established decrees; and not to deny entrance to those returning, but rather to rejoice over their conversion — because that Gospel younger son too, the squanderer of his father's substance, having returned into himself, is not only received into the faith but is clothed with the robe (Luke 15:22), by which what else is declared than the insignia of the priesthood?
Nor did the elder son show himself approved in the father's sight, in that he envied the one received back, nor had he so much merit by not offending as [the other had by returning]. To Asterius and the rest who were with them the administration of the East is enjoined, while to Eusebius that of the West is decreed. There is added indeed in that decree of the council also a fuller disputation concerning the Holy Spirit, that it be of the same substance [as the Father and the Son], and that nothing at all in the Trinity be called either created or inferior or later. But there was also a certain discourse concerning the difference of substances and subsistences; for some said that substance and subsistence seemed to be one [and the same]...
...but others, to whom substance seemed to signify something far different from subsistence, said that substance designates the very nature and rationale of some thing, by which it consists, whereas subsistence shows this very thing which each person is — that it exists and subsists — and therefore [the word] would seem to signify three subsisting persons, lest we give suspicion as though we were followers of that faith which confesses the Trinity in names only and not in things and subsistences. And concerning the incarnation of the Lord too it was comprehended that the body which the Lord had assumed he had assumed neither without sense nor without soul. All these things being cautiously and moderately settled, each one proceeded on his own journey in peace.
But Eusebius, when he had returned to Antioch and found that a bishop had been ordained by Lucifer contrary to their agreement, compelled by shame together with indignation, withdrew, relaxing his communion to neither party, because on departing thence he had promised that he would act in the council so that a bishop be ordained from whom neither party would dissent. For that people who had long ago followed Meletius, driven from the church as though for the right faith, had not joined itself to the former Catholics — that is, those who had been with bishop Eustathius, of whom Paulinus too was one — but held its own leadership and its own conventicle. Therefore, when Eusebius had wished to recall these into unity, and yet, forestalled by Lucifer, had not been able to, he withdrew.
Then Meletius, having returned from exile, since a more numerous people was with him, held the churches; and from that time he now held his own synod together with the rest of the Eastern bishops, yet he was not joined to Athanasius. Meanwhile Lucifer, grieving at the injury because Eusebius had not received at Antioch the bishop ordained by him, resolves himself not to receive the decrees of the Alexandrian council, but he was bound by the tie of his own legate, who in the council had subscribed by his authority. For he could not repudiate the man who held his authority; and yet, had he received [the decrees], he saw that his whole undertaking would be brought to nothing.
Long and much deliberating on this, since he was hemmed in on both sides, he chose to keep his legate as received, but toward the rest to maintain a divergent opinion, yet one pleasing to himself. Thus, having returned to the regions of Sardinia — whether because, forestalled by a swift death, he had not the time to change his opinion (for things rashly begun are wont to be corrected by an interval of time), or whether he had settled in this mind immovably, I should but weakly affirm. From him meanwhile arose the schism of the Luciferians, which, though it revolves still among but a few, took its beginning [there]; and he continued to discharge the office of a priest.
He [Eusebius] recalled each several church, its faithlessness forsworn, to the soundness of the right faith — especially because he found Hilary (whom we mentioned as having long ago been thrust into exile together with the other bishops), now returned and settled in Italy, laboring at these same tasks toward restoring the churches and repairing the faith of the fathers. Save that Hilary, a man by nature gentle and placid, and at the same time learned and most apt for persuading, managed the matter more diligently and fittingly. He also published books on the faith, nobly written, by which — with the most perfect instruction — he might correct both the wiles of the heretics and the deceptions of our own and the ill-credulous [understanding], [in the case of those] with whom he himself could not dispute by living voice in person.
Thus these two men, like certain magnificent lights of the world, illumined Illyricum, Italy, and the Gauls with their splendor, so that all the darkness of the heretics, even from hidden corners and abstruse recesses, was put to flight. But Julian, after he had come to the East to strike at the Persians in war, and the public madness — which he had earlier concealed — regarding the cult of idols began to be borne along, being a more cunning persecutor than the rest, not by force nor by tortures, but by rewards, honors, flatteries, and persuasions, dashed down almost the greater part of the people more than if he had struck cruelly. Forbidding Christians to approach the studies of the pagan authors, he decrees that the schools of letters lie open only to those who venerate the gods and goddesses. He bids that the belt of military service be given to none but those who sacrifice.
He established that the administration of the provinces and of the dispensing of justice ought not to be entrusted to Christians, seeing that their own law had forbidden them even to use the sword. And he made progress daily in devising laws of this sort, in which, if there was anything crafty or cunning, it nevertheless seemed less [odious]. But he was not able to keep up the image of feigned philosophy toward Athanasius. For when, as it were foul serpents bubbling up from the caverns of the earth, there had come forth to him a profane band of magicians, philosophers, soothsayers, and augurs, all alike allege that nothing would succeed by their arts unless he had first removed Athanasius as the obstacle to all these. Again an army is sent, again commanders, again the church is besieged.
And when the peoples, sorrowful and weeping, stood round about him, he is reported to have used a prophetic saying among them. 'Do not,' he said, 'O sons, be troubled, for it is a little cloud and it quickly passes away.' And when he had departed and was making his journey by ship along the river Nile, the officer who had been sent for this very purpose, learning of his journey, began urgently to pursue him. And when it chanced that Athanasius's little boat had put in at a certain place, he learned from passers-by that his assassin was behind his back and now, unless he took care, was imminent. All who were present with him, terrified, urged that the desert be sought for the protection of flight. Then he [said]:
'Do not,' he said, 'O sons, be terrified; let us rather go to meet our pursuer, that he may know that he who defends us is far greater than he who persecutes us.' And having turned his little boat about, he set out to make his way to meet the very man who was hunting him. That man, who could in no way suspect that the one he sought was coming to meet him, orders certain passers-by, as it were, to be asked where they had heard Athanasius to be. And when they answered that they had seen him going not far off, hastening with all speed he presses on in vain, hurrying to seize the one whom, set before his very eyes, he was not able to see. But Athanasius, fortified by the power of God, [returned to] Alexandria. [Symeon, Life of Athanasius, pp. 152–153, Benedictine ed.]
[Cf. Sozomen.] Julian gave yet another proof of his madness and levity. For when, in Daphne, a suburb of Antioch, beside the Castalian spring he was sacrificing to Apollo and received none of the responses he sought, and inquired of the priests of the demon the causes of the silence, they said: 'The tomb of the martyr Babylas stands near by, and therefore no responses are given.' Then he bids the Galileans — for by this name he was accustomed to call our people — to come and to carry away the martyr's tomb. So the whole church, coming together, mothers and men, virgins and youths, girded with immense exultation, drew along in a long procession the coffin of the martyr, chanting psalms with loud cries and saying with exultation:
'Let all be confounded who worship graven images, and who trust in their idols' (Ps. 96:7). This the whole church chanted with such exultation, for six miles, in the ears of the profane prince, so that heaven resounded with the cries. Whence he [was moved to rage], and ordered Christians everywhere to be [seized] and thrust into prison and afflicted with punishments and tortures. His prefect Salutius, not approving of this — although he was a pagan — nevertheless being ordered, carries it out; and having apprehended a certain young man who was the first to meet him, Theodore by name, he tortured him from the first light of day until the tenth hour with such cruelty, and with so many torturers relieving one another, that no age remembers a like deed.
Yet while that young man, hoisted aloft on the rack and joyful, repeated the psalm which the whole church had sung the day before, and when Salutius perceived that, having expended every cruelty, he had accomplished nothing, the young man being taken back into prison, he is reported to have gone off to the emperor and to have announced what he had done, and to have admonished him not to wish to attempt any such thing henceforth, since otherwise he would win glory for them and ignominy for himself.
This Theodore we ourselves afterwards saw at Antioch; and when we inquired of him whether he had felt the sensation of pain to the full, he said that he had indeed felt the pains but little, and that there had stood by him a certain young man who with a most white cloth both wiped away the sweat from him as he sweated and frequently poured cold water over him; and that he had been so delighted thereby that he was then made sadder when he was ordered to be taken down from the rack. Threatening therefore, the emperor set out, [saying] that after the Persian victory he would war down the Christians more effectively; but none returned. For there, whether pierced through by his own men or by the enemy is uncertain, after a year and eight months of his presumed Augustan reign:
So great was his subtlety and cunning for deceiving that he even mocked the unhappy Jews, allured by vain hopes just as he himself was driven on. Having first of all summoned them to himself, he asks why they did not sacrifice, since their own law commanded them concerning sacrifices. But they, thinking they had found an opportunity of the moment, say: 'We cannot, except in the sole temple of Jerusalem; for so the law has commanded.' And having received from him license to rebuild the temple, they came to such a pitch of insolence that someone might have seemed to them one of the prophets restored. Therefore from all places and provinces the Jews come together and began to approach the site of the temple, once consumed by fire, an overseer for hastening the work being granted by the emperor:
At public and private expense the work was carried on with all insistence. Meanwhile [the Jews began] to insult our people and, as though the times of their kingdom had been restored to them, to threaten more fiercely, and to display their savagery, behaving altogether with monstrous swelling and pride. Cyril, after Maximus the confessor, was held to be bishop at Jerusalem. Therefore [when the foundations had been] opened, the bishop, having carefully considered — whether from what he had read in the prophecy of Daniel concerning the times, or what the Lord had foretold in the Gospels — persisted [in declaring] that it could by no means come to pass that there a stone should be laid upon a stone by the Jews. The matter was in expectation.
And behold, on the night which alone now remained before the work was to be begun, [an earthquake occurred; and] the public buildings too, in which the multitude of Jews who seemed to be pressing on the work were dwelling together, all being brought down to the ground, crushed the Jews who were found [there]. But when the light had arisen, since they believed they had escaped the evil, the remaining multitude [came together] to search out those who had been crushed. There was a certain building sunk in the lower parts of the temple, having an entrance between two porticoes which had been leveled, in which iron tools and other things necessary for the work were kept.
Out of it there suddenly burst forth a ball of fire, which, running through the midst of the square, scorched and struck lifeless those who stood by; and throughout all that day it persistently returned again and again, restraining with avenging flames the rashness of that obstinate people, while meanwhile all who were present, terrified by immense dread and trembling, were compelled against their will to confess Jesus Christ the one true God. And lest these things should be thought to have happened by chance, on the following day it fell out in such a way that even one who might have wished to explain it away on the grounds of his own unbelief could by no means make an end of it. Thus the Jews and the Gentiles alike, struck with terror, [abandoned] the place at once and in vain. I. Concerning the origin and the religious disposition of the emperor Jovian, and concerning his end. III. Concerning the falling asleep of Athanasius and the persecutions of the heretic Lucius.
V. Concerning the persecution which took place at Edessa. VI. Concerning Moses, whom the queen of the nation of the Saracens demanded for her own people. VIII. How many of the holy men among the disciples of Antony were even then in the desert. IX. Concerning Gregory and Basil, bishops of Cappadocia. X. Concerning bishop Damasus and the fraudulent usurpation of Ursinus. XII. Concerning the irruption of the Goths through Thrace and the death of the emperor Valens. XIII. How the emperor Gratian made Theodosius a partner in the empire, and after many things done religiously and bravely, [triumphed over] the tyrant Maximus. XV. Concerning the boy Valentinian, and how his mother Justina, defending the Arian heresy, attempted to throw the churches into confusion. XVI. Concerning the faithful constancy of Benivolus, the master of the records. XVII. How Theodosius, avenging the death of Gratian, triumphed over Maximus.
XVIII. Concerning the offence committed by Theodosius against the Thessalonians, and his penance. XIX. Concerning the restorations of the churches which were made through him in the East. XXI. Concerning the successions of bishops throughout the East. XXII. Concerning the disturbances of the pagans at Alexandria. XXIII. Concerning the situation of the temple of Serapis and its overthrow. XXIV. Concerning the frauds which were detected in the temples of the pagans.
XXV. Concerning Tyrannus, the priest of Saturn of almost the whole of Alexandria. XXVII. Concerning the churches and shrines of martyrs which were built in the places of the idols. XXVIII. Concerning the tomb of John that was violated, and the relics at Alexandria. XXIX. Concerning the breastplates of Serapis that were scraped away at Alexandria, and the sign [of the cross]. XXX. How the measure of the water of the river Nile, which they call the pechys (cubit), [was carried] to [the church]. XXXI. Concerning the death of Valentinian the younger and the rise of Eugenius. XXXII. Concerning the preparation for war against Eugenius by Theodosius, and his victory won more by prayers than by valour. XXXIII. Concerning the end of Theodosius after his victory, and Arcadius and Honorius. After the death of Julian, the civil authority of Jovian's imperial rule is at last restored to us:
For at one and the same time he showed himself both an emperor and a confessor, and one who drove away the error that had been wickedly brought in. For when the army was drawn up for battle and the barbarian was pressing hard, our leaders, taking counsel about matters of the utmost gravity, cast their vote for Jovian; and when he had been seized and was being drawn forward to take up the insignia of empire, it is said that he cried out to the army, defiled by the sacrileges of Julian, that he could not rule over them, because he was a Christian. Then they all are reported to have answered with one and the same voice: 「We too are Christians.」 Nor, before he heard this cry, would he consent to accept the empire.
Then at once the divine mercy came to his aid, and beyond all hope: for when they were held hemmed in on every side by their enemies, and no means of escape whatever remained, suddenly they saw envoys sent from the barbarians arriving to sue for peace, and promising to supply to the army, worn out by famine, food and other necessities in the way of trade, and by every kindness to make amends for the rashness [shown] against our men. But when, peace having been settled for twenty-nine years, he returned to Roman soil alone, and a brighter light, risen from the regions of the East, spread itself over our world, he set about restoring the commonwealth, as it were after excessive storms, with all moderation, and to hold the care of the churches not in the second place.
Yet he did not act incautiously, as Constantius had done, but, warned by his predecessor's fall, he sought out Athanasius with honourable and most courteous letters. From him he received the pattern of the faith and the manner of ordering the churches. But an untimely death corrupted these beginnings, so pious and so joyful. For eight months after his rise he met his end in Cilicia. After him Valentinian took up the empire, who for our faith had been expelled from military service by Julian. But the Lord fulfilled in him what he had promised, restoring to him even more than a hundredfold in the present age: for because he had left the army for Christ's sake, he received the empire.
He took his brother Valens into partnership of the empire, and chose for himself the western parts, while he left the eastern to the other. But Valens, by favouring the heretics, went off into the way of his fathers. For he drove bishops into exile, and presbyters and deacons and monks—Tatianus presiding at Alexandria—he brought even to tortures and handed over to the flames, and he devised many wicked and cruel things against the church of God; but all these things after the death of Athanasius. For while Athanasius survived, restrained as it were by a certain divine power, though he raged against the rest, against him he dared to commit nothing grievous.
Therefore at that season, when in the forty-sixth year of his priesthood Athanasius, after many struggles and many crowns of patience, had rested in peace, being consulted about a successor he chose Peter, the sharer and companion of his tribulations. But Lucius, a bishop of the Arian party, straightway flew upon the flock like a wolf. And Peter indeed, at once boarding a ship, fled to the city of Rome. But Lucius, as though the material of his cruelty had been taken from him, grew the more savage toward the rest, and so went on into bloodshed that he seemed not to preserve even any appearance of religion. At his very first entry such and so shameful things were done against the virgins and continent members of the church as are not recorded even in the persecutions of the heathen.
Thereupon, after the flights of citizens and their exiles, after slaughters and tortures and flames, by which he had destroyed countless numbers, he turned the arms of his fury against the monasteries; he laid waste the desert and declared war upon men at rest. Three thousand men at once, or even more, scattered throughout the whole desert in secret and solitary dwellings, he set about to assail all alike; he sent an armed band of horse and foot, and chose tribunes, captains, and commanders of war, as though he were about to fight against barbarians. When these had come, they beheld a new kind of warfare: their foes offered their necks to the swords, and said nothing else but: 「Friend, for what have you come?」
At that same time the fathers of the monks, by the merit of their life and their antiquity, Macarius and Isidore and another Macarius, and Heraclides and Pambo, disciples of Antony, were reckoned throughout Egypt and especially in the parts of the desert of Nitria—men who were believed to share their life and deeds not with the rest of mortals, but with the angels above. What I saw in person, I tell, and I report the deeds of those in whose sufferings I was found worthy to be a companion. These led the army of the Lord, armed not with mortal weapons but with the faith of religion—an army conquering by dying, and following Christ to heaven as a victor by the shedding of its own blood.
And while these men, placed in their tents and praying, were awaiting their slayers, there was brought to them a man long since withered in all his limbs and especially in his feet; but when he had been anointed by them with oil in the name of the Lord, at once the soles of his feet were made firm. And when they said: 「In the name of Jesus Christ, whom Lucius persecutes, rise and stand upon your feet and return to your house,」 he straightway leaping up and springing forth blessed God, showing that God was truly in them. And a little while before, a certain blind man had asked to be led to the cell of Macarius, which was in the desert at a journey of three days. When the blind man, after much toil of those who led him, had arrived there, he did not find Macarius at home.
Greatly saddened, he could in no way soften his grief, being deprived of the consolation of his cure. But then, growing warm with fervour of faith, he said to those who had led him: 「I beseech you, set me against that part of the wall where the old man is wont to lie.」 And when he had been brought to it, taking a little dry clay from where the wall seemed to be plastered, he placed it upon the palm of his hand; he asked also that they draw water from the well from which the old man was accustomed to drink. Dissolving the little clod with this moisture, and anointing his eyes with the same clay and washing them with the water that had been drawn, he suddenly recovered his sight, so that, needing no support, he returned to his own home.
But lest he should act like those lepers whom the Lord in the Gospels marks out as ungrateful for being healed by him, he returned with his whole household, and giving thanks to God, made known the matter as it had happened. This same Macarius had a hyena's den near his cell. And when she understood [the case], she came to entreat the old man on account of the blindness of her cubs; he asked the Lord to restore their sight to them. When this had been received, following their mother they returned to the den. And a little after, she herself, coming out with her cubs, brought as it were a gift for the grace received to the old man very many fleeces of sheep with the wool, carried in the bite of her mouth, and laying them down before the doors, departed.
But if we should wish to pursue the deeds of each of these marvels, we should be shut out from the brevity we have proposed, especially since these things deserve to have a narration of their own. Yet in all this Lucius did not blush, nor did he show any reverence for the wonders of their virtues. Nay rather, he ordered these very fathers to be taken away from their flock—indeed secretly seized—and deported to a certain island of the Egyptian marshes, in which he had learned that there was absolutely no Christian, so that through these means they might live either without comfort or without their accustomed practices. So the old men, with only two attendants, are led by night to the island, in which there was a certain temple observed with the highest veneration by the inhabitants of the place.
And when the little boat of the old men had touched the edge of that shore, behold, suddenly the virgin daughter of the priest of that temple, seized by a spirit, began to be driven through the midst of the people with immense shrieking and cries raised as far as heaven, and, making frequent whirlings, gnashing, to dart her raging mouth this way and that. And when the people had assembled to the spectacle of so great a monster—especially because she was the daughter of the priest, who was held in the highest honour among them—following her as she was snatched through the air, they came all the way to the little boat of the old men. There, cast down at their feet and prostrate, she began to cry out: 「Why have you come here, O servants of the most high God? Take back your ancient and decrepit [selves] and your lands.」
When she said these things, the spirit of error, rebuked by them, was put to flight, and the girl lay healed at the feet of the apostles of our time, together with her parents. They, preaching to them the faith of the Lord Jesus Christ with such beginnings, suddenly led them to so great a conversion that at once with their own hands they destroyed the most ancient temple, held in the highest veneration, and immediately built a church, nor did they need any space of time for deliberation, since it was not words but power that had wrought in them the assurance of these things.
But when this had been reported at Alexandria, Lucius, fearing lest perchance even the just hatred of his own men should rise up against him—who now was openly declaring war not against men but against God—ordered them to be secretly recalled and sent back into the desert. While these things were being done in Egypt, not even in other places did the flame of persecution cease. For Edessa, a city of Mesopotamia belonging to faithful peoples, is adorned with the relics of the apostle Thomas. When the emperor himself had seen there that the peoples cast out of their churches were holding their assembly in the open field, he is said to have been kindled with such wrath that he struck his own prefect with his fist, [demanding] why they had not been driven out from there also, as he had ordered.
But he, although he was a pagan and had been treated with insults by the emperor, nevertheless, out of consideration of humanity, [caused] certain secret hints to become clear by which they might indeed take heed to guard themselves, lest they be found in the place. About to go forth in the morning, he stirred up a terror greater than usual by his office and set everything in motion, so that the fewest possible, or, if it could be, none at all, might be endangered. Yet he sees a crowd greater than usual making for the place, running headlong and hastening, as though they feared lest any should be lacking for death.
Meanwhile he sees a certain poor little woman bursting out of her house in such haste and speed that she could neither shut her door nor cover herself, as befits the dress of women, more carefully, dragging along with her also a very small infant, and hastening in her rapid course, having broken even into the line of his own escort. Then he, no longer bearing it, said: 「Seize the woman and bring her here.」 And when she had been brought, he said: 「Where, O unhappy woman, are you hurrying so hastily?」 「To the field,」 she said, 「where the people of the catholics gather.」 「And have you not heard,」 he said, 「that the prefect is going there to kill all whom he finds?」 「I have heard, and therefore I hasten, that I may be found there.」 「And why,」 he said, 「do you drag this little child?」 「That he too,」 she said, 「may be worthy to obtain martyrdom.」
When the most temperate man had heard these things, he ordered the escort to return and the carriage to be turned back to the palace, and entering he said: 「Emperor, if you should command me to undergo death, I am ready; but the work which you enjoin I cannot fulfil.」 And when he had informed him fully about the woman, he restrained the madness of the emperor. At that same time the church, as if refined by the fire of persecution, shone brighter than the metal of gold. For the faith of each one was proved not in words, but in exiles and prisons, because to be a catholic was not for honour but for punishment—especially at Alexandria, where the faithful had not even free liberty to bury the bodies of their dead.
While Lucius was carrying on these things with all arrogance and savagery, Mauvia, queen of the nation of the Saracens, began with a vehement war to shake the towns and cities of the Palestinian and Arabian frontier and at the same time to lay waste the neighbouring provinces; and when by frequent battles she had worn down the Roman army and, having slain very many, had put the rest to flight, she promised that she would embrace peace on no other terms than that a certain monk named Moses should be ordained bishop for her nation. He had become gloriously famous for the powers and signs which God worked through him. His request, being made known to the Roman emperor, is ordered to be fulfilled without any delay by our commanders, who had there fought unsuccessfully.
Moses, being captured, is led to Alexandria to receive the priesthood, according to custom. Lucius is present, to whom the office of ordaining was assigned. When he saw this, Moses, in the presence of the commanders who were pressing him and of the people, said: 「I indeed judge myself not to be worthy of so great a priesthood; yet nevertheless, if any divine dispensation is thought to be fulfilled in me, unworthy though I am, I call to witness our God, the Lord of heaven and earth, that Lucius shall not lay upon me hands polluted and bloodied with the blood of the saints.」 And when Lucius saw himself branded with so grave a mark in the eyes of very many, he said: 「Why, O Moses, do you so easily condemn one whose faith you do not know? Or if anyone has told you otherwise about me, hear my faith, and trust yourself rather than others.」
Then he said: 「Cease, O Lucius, to assail me too with your deceitful pretences; your faith is well known to me, which the servants of God condemned to the mines bear witness to, and the bishops thrust into exile, the presbyters and deacons banished outside the dwellings of the Christian name, some given over to the beasts, others even to the fires. Can a faith that is grasped by the ears be truer than one that is seen through with the eyes? With me it is certain that those who rightly believe in Christ do not do such things.」 And so, disfigured with the greater dishonour, since the necessity of consulting for the commonwealth pressed hard, he was compelled to consent that Moses should receive the priesthood from the bishops whom he had thrust into exile.
Having received it, he both kept the peace of the most ferocious nation and guarded the catholic faith undefiled. But when at Alexandria the foul mist of the treachery of a benighted teacher was overspreading the peoples and the city, the Lord kindled Didymus, like a certain lamp shining with divine light. Concerning his life and training, since he is believed to have been granted to the glory of the church by God's gift, it seems necessary to us that a few things be recorded, even if in passing. For he, at a tender age, while as yet he was ignorant even of the first elements of letters, having been deprived of his eyes, was inflamed with a greater desire for the knowledge of the true light; nor did he suffer despair of attaining what he longed for, since he had heard it written in the Gospel:
「What is impossible with men is possible with God.」 Trusting therefore in this divine promise, he prayed unceasingly to the Lord, not that he might receive the sight of his fleshly eyes, but that he might receive the illumination of his heart. Yet he mingled with his prayers zeal and labour, and applied continual and unbroken vigils, not to reading, but to hearing, so that what sight conferred on others, hearing might confer on him.
But when, after the labour of study by lamplight, sleep, as usually happens, came upon those who were reading, Didymus, not reckoning that silence to be given for rest or leisure, like a clean animal ruminating, recalled anew the food that he had taken, and re-wove in memory and mind those things which he had a little before learned from the reading of books as others hurried through them, so that he seemed not so much to have heard what had been read as to have written it upon the pages of his mind.
Thus in a short time, under God's teaching, he came to so great a learning and knowledge of things divine and human that he stood forth as a teacher of the ecclesiastical school, highly approved by bishop Athanasius and the other men wise in the church of God; but also in the other disciplines, whether of dialectic or of geometry, of astronomy too or of arithmetic, he was so well prepared that no philosopher ever, propounding anything from these arts, was able to prevail over him or to corner him; rather, as soon as they received his answers, they believed him to be a master even of that discipline about which they had propounded.
Some of his sayings, whether disputed in common or given as answers to those who propounded questions, they wrote down with the aid of shorthand-writers who were employed, which even now are held in great admiration. Yet we, who were in some part hearers of his living voice, and have read those things which were written down by certain persons as he spoke, recognised a far greater grace and something divine, I know not what, sounding above the human voice, rather in those discourses which were uttered from his own mouth. This man also, when the Arians had come down from the Thebaid to Alexandria, [Athanasius] consoled with magnificent words:
「Let nothing offend you, O Didymus, that you seem to be bereft of your fleshly eyes; for you lack those eyes which mice and flies and lizards have; but rejoice, because you have eyes such as the angels have, by which God is seen, through which a great light of knowledge is kindled for you.」 Egypt therefore flourished at that season not only with men learned in the Christian philosophy, but also with those who, dwelling throughout the vast desert, wrought signs and prodigies with apostolic simplicity of life and sincerity of heart. Of these, meanwhile, those whom we ourselves saw and by whose blessing hands we were counted worthy [to be blessed], are these: Macarius of the upper desert; Macarius, and the rest:
(See concerning the monks and their dwellings what Tillemont has collected, and the Lausiac history of Palladius, Cambridge 1898, and the things there praised) and another Macarius of the lower [desert]; Isidore in the Scete; Pambo in the Cells; Moses and Benjamin in Nitria; Scyrion and Elias and Paul in Apeliotes; another Paul in Phocis; Poemen and Joseph in Pispir, which was called the mountain of Antony; but we also learned by faithful hearing that very many others of this kind of men dwelt in the parts of Egypt, so that the saying of the apostle was truly fulfilled: 「Where sin abounded, grace did much more abound.」 Moreover at that same time Mesopotamia too had noble men excelling in the same pursuits.
Some of these we ourselves saw with our own eyes at Edessa and in the parts of Carrhae, but of more we learned by hearing. But neither of these two [regions] was Cappadocia less fruitful; nay, it germinated for us something more joyful in Gregory together with Basil. It too therefore bore a very joyful harvest of many saints, produced an abundant vineyard of the pious, and germinated also a young shoot of the Lord's olive-trees. But these two especially, standing like two sons of fatness at the right and left of the lampstand, shone like two luminaries of heaven; whence I think it worthy to repeat above a few things about them. Both were noble, both educated at Athens, both fellow-students, both, having departed from the lecture-hall, were asked to profess rhetoric.
This work Basil indeed fulfilled magnificently, but Gregory more magnificently despised. And Gregory, when he had wholly devoted himself to the service of God, presumed so much upon the love of his colleague that he took Basil down as he sat from the teacher's chair and, laying hand upon him, led him with himself to the monastery; and there for thirteen years, as they say, having put away all the books of the secular Greeks, they devoted their labour solely to the volumes of divine Scripture, and pursued the understanding of them not from their own presumption, but from the writings and authority of their elders, whom it was agreed had themselves received the rule of understanding from the apostolic succession.
Especially discussing the commentaries on the prophets, they searched out the treasures of wisdom and knowledge hidden in earthen vessels. But when now, being sufficiently instructed, they were by divine dispensation called to imbue the peoples, and each was drawn by a different road, yet both to the same work, Basil, going about the cities and country of Pontus, began to stir up by words and to kindle by preaching the sluggish minds of that people, so little anxious about future hope, and to abolish from them the callus of long neglect; and, casting away the cares of empty and secular things, he brought them to recover the knowledge of themselves.
He taught them to come together into one, to build monasteries, to give themselves to psalms and hymns and prayers, to take care of the poor and to provide for them honourable dwellings and what is necessary for sustenance, to instruct virgins, and to make a chaste and pure life desirable to almost all. Thus in a short time the face of the whole province was so changed that in a dry and squalid field there seemed to have arisen a fertile crop and a joyful vineyard. But Gregory did not suffer the good seed either to lie upon thorns or to be scattered among rocks, but cultivated the good soil of his own heart with constant tillage and unceasing exercises, and profited far more in himself than the other in the rest.
The one took care to receive the things which those renouncing the world laid at his feet, and to distribute them as each had need; the other, content with the sacrament of having nothing and possessing all things, clung greedy and very desirous only toward the riches of divine wisdom. The one taught that many should come together into one and have care for one another in their necessities; the other, by his own example, being free and unbound, preached to all in the apostolic word: 「But I would have you to be without care; and the Lord is at hand; be anxious for nothing, but as servants of Christ, be anxious for this alone, when the Lord returns from the wedding.」
The one, to have mercy and to grieve with those who fell, and to call them back from their fault; the other, through the grace of the divine eloquence, to forestall the incitements of sinning and not to allow him who once dashed down was hard to raise up to slip. The one pure in faith, the other freer in preaching. The one humble to God, the other even to men. The one overcame the arrogant by contempt, the other by reason. Thus in each of them a diverse grace fulfilled one work of perfection. Therefore Basil, not long after being made bishop of Caesarea in Cappadocia, when he was being forced into exile by Valens for the faith, was brought before the tribunal of the prefect and began to be dealt with by terrors, as is the manner of that power, and by the greatest threats, and, unless he obeyed the emperor's commands, to expect destruction hanging over him at any moment.
Then he, undaunted and without any perturbation of mind, is reported to have answered the prefect who was threatening him these things: 「Would that I had something of a worthy gift, which I might offer!」 And when the night, which was midway [i.e. the middle of the night], was granted to him for a space of deliberating, he is again reported to have answered: 「I shall be tomorrow the very same as I am now; would that you were not changed!」 And on that night indeed the emperor's wife was tortured as though handed over to torturers, while his son, who was their only one, being cut off, is believed to have paid the penalties of his father's impiety. So before dawn men were sent to beg Basil to intercede with his prayers for them, lest they too—and indeed much more justly—should likewise perish.
So it came to pass that, though Valens expelled all the catholics, Basil endured in the church until the end of his life with the sacrament of communion undefiled. But Gregory, appointed bishop at the town of Nazianzus in place of his father, faithfully bore the whirlwind of the heretics. When peace had been restored, being entreated to come to Constantinople to teach the church, he did not refuse. There in a short time he so profited toward amending the people, infected with the ancient poisons of the heretics, that then for the first time they seemed to themselves to become Christians and to behold the new light of truth, since the teacher of religion taught much indeed by words, but more by examples, nor did his disciples see anything commanded by him which he had not first done himself.
But when envy followed upon his glory, certain men began to resist and to use less wholesome pretexts, so that, upon his returning to his own [see], another should be ordained bishop. He, perceiving that this was only being whispered and, as it were, chewed over under the teeth, himself brought forth what no one dared say to him: 「Far be it,」 he said, 「that on my account any strife should arise among the priests of God. If this storm is on account of me, take me up and cast me into the sea, and the tossing will cease from you.」 Then, having returned to his own church, he spent what remained of the time of his life; and since he was now worn with age and weak in body, he himself chose a successor for himself, so that, with him governing the church, he might enjoy the leisure of infirmity and old age.
There survive also magnificent monuments of the genius of both men in the treatises which they used to deliver extempore in the churches. From these we have rendered into Latin roughly ten short discourses of each, and besides these the Rule of the Monks by Basil, hoping, if we are able and if God's favour assists us, to translate more of their works. Basil had moreover two brothers, Gregory and Peter, of whom the one in the word of doctrine, the other in the works of faith so equalled their brother that each of them reproduced either Basil or Gregory. There survive also several brilliant little works of Gregory the younger himself. But of these enough has been said.
In the western regions Valentinian, unimpaired in the faith of religion, governed the commonwealth with the ancient discipline of the Roman empire. Damasus, after Liberius, had by succession received the priesthood in the city of Rome. A certain Ursinus, a deacon of that same church, unable to bear that Damasus was preferred before him, broke out into such a frenzy that, having won over a certain quite unskilled and boorish bishop and gathered a band of troublemakers and seditious men, in the basilica which is called Sicininus he extorted his own ordination as bishop, in defiance of law, order, and tradition. From this deed so great a sedition, nay rather so great warfare arose, with the populace defending one side or the other, that the places of prayer were filled with human blood.
This affair, through the faction of Maximinus the prefect, a savage man, was turned into malice against the good and innocent bishop, so that the case was carried even to the torturing of clerics. But God, the champion of innocence, was present, and turned it back upon the heads of those who had aimed at it. Meanwhile, upon the death at Milan of Auxentius, bishop of the heretics, the people of both parties were carried along by opposing zeal. A grave dissension and dangerous sedition was preparing an early destruction for the city itself, if each party, since it desired something different, should in no way obtain what it had proposed. Ambrose at that time, as consular, governed the fasces of that province. When he saw ruin threatening the city, in accordance with his station and office he at once entered the church to calm the sedition of the people.
And when he had there discoursed at length, according to the laws and public discipline, for quiet and tranquillity, suddenly from the people fighting among themselves and at variance a single shout and voice arose, demanding Ambrose as bishop: they cried out that he should be baptized at once—for he was a catechumen—and given to them as bishop, and that there would be no one people and one faith otherwise, unless Ambrose were given them as priest. Though he struggled and resisted with all his might, the people's desire, having been reported to the emperor, was ordered to be fulfilled with all speed. For it was of God, he said, that a sudden conversion should recall the people's discordant faith and dissident spirits back into one accord and one mind.
And soon, having obtained the grace of God and been initiated into the sacred rites, he was made priest. Meanwhile, when Valentinian had come from the parts of Gaul into Illyricum for the Sarmatian war, there, the war scarcely begun, overcome by a sudden illness he met his end, leaving as heirs in the empire his sons Gratian Augustus and Valentinian, quite a small child and not yet invested with the royal insignia. Yet the necessity imposed by those who were attempting to seize the seemingly vacant place of empire compelled him, even in his brother's absence, to be clothed in the purple, Probus at that time [being present]. About the same time in the eastern realm the nation of the Goths, driven from their own abodes, poured itself through all the provinces of Thrace, and began savagely with arms to lay waste the cities and fields.
Then indeed the wars which Valens was waging against the churches began to be turned against the enemy, and with belated penitence he ordered bishops and presbyters to be released from exile and monks to be freed from the mines. Yet he himself, surrounded by the enemy, in an estate to which in terror he had fled from the battle, paid the penalty for his impiety, burnt up by fire, having reigned fourteen years in all—first with his brother, and afterwards with his brother's sons. That battle was the beginning of evil for the Roman empire then and thereafter. So then Gratian, together with his quite young brother, after the killing of his uncle took up also the empire of the East. In piety and religion he surpassed almost all the princes who had been before him.
He was vigorous in the use of arms, swift of body and of good disposition, but by youthful exuberance he was somewhat more cheerful than was fitting, and more modest than was expedient for the commonwealth. And seeing that it was useful to have as partner in the so great cares of the realm a man mature in years, and because, as the divine word admonishes, two are better than one, he took Theodosius as his colleague, and, having entrusted to him the administration of the East, reserved for himself and his brother the western parts.
But he, after he had accomplished many things devoutly and bravely, was slain—by the tyrant Maximus, who had risen up in Britain, through his general Andragathius at Lyons—more by the treachery of his own men than by force. But Valentinian, dwelling in Italy, terrified by his brother's murder and by fear of the enemy, feigning to accept the peace offered by Maximus, himself also, a nursling of heresy, confidently opened up to his easily deceived son the poisons of his impiety, which while her husband lived she had suppressed. And so, established at Milan, [she began] to throw the state of the churches into confusion, to threaten the priests with the exile of banishment, unless they should recall the decrees of the Council of Ariminum, by which the faith of the fathers had been violated.
In this war she battered the wall and most valiant tower of the church, namely Ambrose, and wearying him with threats, terrors, and every kind of assault, she first sought a way to overthrow the church. But although that Jezebel fought armed with her spirit, Ambrose nevertheless resisted, filled with the virtue and grace of Elijah. She herself, meanwhile, in the churches would chatter, make an uproar, rouse and inflame the peoples to discord; but because the matter fell out less according to her wish, she reckoned it an injury and complained of it to her son. Whence the young lad, inflamed on account of the resentment at an insult which his mother had falsely forged, sent a band of armed men to the church, and ordered the doors to be broken down, the holy things assaulted, the priest dragged off and immediately driven into exile.
But so great was the perseverance of the faithful peoples that they would sooner give up their lives. Then [the command] was given to Benivolus, who at that time presided over the record-office of the memoranda. But he, to whom the sacred faith had been holy and venerable from the cradle, refused that he could utter impious words and speak against God. Then indeed, lest the queen's undertaking should seem to be in vain, a loftier honour was promised him if he should fulfil what was enjoined. He, who desired to be nobler in faith than in honours, said: 'What loftier rank do you promise me as the reward of impiety?'
'Take away even this very rank which I hold, only let the conscience of my faith remain to me unimpaired.' Saying this, he cast his belt down before the feet of those who impiously commanded him. Ambrose, however, defended himself against the queen's fury neither by hand nor by weapon, but, placed beneath the altar in fastings and continual vigils, he prepared for himself and for the church, through supplications, God as his defender. And when Justina had for a long time and to no purpose contrived these things by diverse engines and assaults, Maximus, who longed to strip off the infamy of a tyrant and to show himself a lawful prince, by a letter that he sent protested against the impious undertaking, [declaring] that the faith of God was being assailed and the statutes of the catholic church subverted; and meanwhile he began to approach Italy.
When Justina had learned of this, with the enemy at hand and the consciousness of her impiety pressing hard upon her, she was turned to flight with her son—the first to suffer those exiles which she was preparing for the priests of God. Yet Theodosius was at hand, mindful, for the sake of the loyalty of the realm, of the goodness and benefits of Gratian, and rising up with all the forces of the East for vengeance, he avenged the just blood; and, the impious mother Valentinian having died meanwhile, he restored the catholic faith which she herself had violated, and, the tyranny being cast down, the kingdom. And he himself, after he had been carried into Rome in an illustrious triumph, returned again to his own realms. About the same time, through a certain stealthy suggestion of the demon, a foul stain was burnt into the religious prince.
For when at Thessalonica a sedition had broken out and a certain man of the soldiery had been killed by the onrush of the raging populace, [the emperor,] inflamed by the atrocity of the sudden news, ordered the people to be invited to the games of the circus, and the soldiers to be suddenly poured around them and to cut down indiscriminately with the sword whoever met them, and to give vengeance not to justice but to fury. On this account, when he was reproved by the priests of Italy, he acknowledged the crime, and confessing his guilt with tears, he performed public penance in the sight of the whole church, and the time appointed for him in this he patiently fulfilled, without royal disdain. To all these things he added also this marvellously:
he sanctioned by law that thereafter the sentences of princes concerning capital punishment should not take effect for [thirty days], so that room might be left for mercy or, if the case should warrant it, for penitence. Then, having returned to the East, there, as from the beginning of his reign, with the utmost care and utmost zeal he set about, the heretics being expelled, to hand over the churches to the catholics, and to do this with such moderation that, vengeance being scorned, he took thought only for the catholics regarding the restoration of the churches, in order that the right faith might advance without hindrance to its preaching; and he showed himself common toward the priests of God, exhibiting toward all a royal spirit in faith, religion, and munificence.
Easy of access and without imperial pomp, he offered himself to converse with the humble. At his exhortation and by his largesses churches were adorned in very many places and built quite magnificently; he granted much to those who asked, but more often offered it unbidden. The worship of idols, which from Constantine's institution and thereafter had begun to be neglected and destroyed, collapsed under his reign. For these things he was so dear to God that divine providence conferred on him a special gift. [It happened that] there was a count, an illustrious man, by name Butterichus, for whose ill-starred murder the whole city conspired, so that his death should be avenged by the ruin of the city; for this deed was committed on account of a charioteer who had violated his servant.
[Divine providence,] indeed, in the regions of the Thebaid filled with a prophetic spirit a certain monk named John, by whose admonitions and answers [the emperor] would inquire whether it were better to keep peace or to wage war. Meanwhile at Laodicea in Syria, before that time, Apollinaris the bishop—a man indeed well instructed in other respects, but while he was carried too far by the vice of contentiousness and delighted to go in opposition to everything that anyone had said, and, in the boasting of his own talent, ill-strong—begot a heresy out of contention, asserting that only the body, and not also the soul, had been assumed by the Lord in the dispensation.
And when he was pressed on this by the evident testimonies of the Gospel, in which the Lord and Saviour himself professes that he has a soul and lays it down when he wills and again takes it up, and which he says is troubled and sorrowful even unto death, he then shifted his ground, and lest he should seem to be wholly vanquished, he said that Christ had indeed had a soul, but not in that part in which it is rational, but only in that part in which it gives life to the body. And for the supplement of the rational part he alleged that the very Word of God had been [present].
This assertion was first repelled in the city of Rome by Damasus and Peter, bishop of Alexandria, in an assembled council, with this decree: that if anyone should say that the Son of God—who, just as he was truly God, so also was truly man—had had anything less either of humanity or of deity, he should be judged an alien from the church. This sentence was also confirmed at Alexandria and at Constantinople by decree of a council. From that time the Apollinarians, turning aside from the church, defend for themselves both bishops of their own party and their own dogmas and churches. So then in the city of Rome, after Damasus, Siricius received the priesthood of the church.
At Alexandria, after the death of Peter, Timothy, and after him Theophilus; and in Jerusalem, after Cyril, John, restored the apostolic sees. At Antioch, after the death of Meletius, Flavian was substituted; but because Paulinus still survived, who had always remained in the fellowship of the catholics, many quarrels and many controversies were often stirred up there, and yet, though some strained with the utmost force and others resisted, and though the very elements of earth and sea were wearied in this, no measure of peace could ever be obtained—though indeed there now seemed to be no discord underlying the faith. This same thing occurred at Tyre.
There, when Diodorus—assuredly one of the ancient catholics and a man proved by the evidences of trials—had been made bishop with the testimony of Athanasius by the confessors, his modesty being scorned, another was ordained by the party of Meletius. But in many other cities of the East also, contention of this kind begot such confusions among the priests. And [one] recently baptized received the priesthood. Meanwhile at Alexandria new commotions and, against the faith of the times, [disturbances] were stirred up against the church, arising from an occasion of this sort. There was a certain basilica of public construction, ancient and quite neglected, which, it was reported, from long neglect had nothing sound about it except its walls.
It seemed good to the bishop who at that time governed the church to request this from the emperor, so that, as the faithful peoples were increasing, the houses of prayer might also increase. And when, having received it, he wished to restore it, there was discovered [therein things] more suited to magical practices than to sacred rites. And so the heathen, seeing the evils of their crimes, hidden for so many ages and covered with darkness, being uncovered and laid open—as though they had drunk a cup of dragons—all began to go mad and openly to rage. And now, no longer with words and conflict [in dispute], each people came together in the streets and in open war. But our men, though in number and power far more numerous, were less fierce because of the modesty of their religion.
Whence, many of our men being frequently wounded and not a few even slain, they fled for refuge to the temple as to a kind of citadel. There, leading away with them some of the Christians whom they had captured, they compelled them, the altars being kindled, to offer sacrifice; those who resisted they killed after torturing them with new and elaborate tortures; some they fastened to gibbets, others, with their legs broken, they hurled headlong into caverns which an inquisitive antiquity had built to receive the blood of sacrifices and the other impurities of the shrine. And thus they carried on these things, and, shut up within the temple, they lived by plunder and pillage.
At last, running riot in the blood of the citizens, they chose as leader of their wickedness and audacity a certain man by name Olympus, a philosopher in dress alone, that under this standard-bearer they might defend the citadel and maintain their tyranny. But those to whom the deeds that had been done [were reported], troubled and terrified, hastened to the temple, inquired the reasons for such audacity, and asked what that gathering meant, in which, with so great wickedness, the blood of citizens was being poured out before the altars. But they, the entrance being barricaded, with confused and discordant voices rendered no account of the deed, but only clamour.
Yet, envoys being sent to them, they warned them concerning the power of the Roman empire, the vengeance of the laws, and the things which are wont to follow such deeds. And since the fortification of the place allowed nothing to be done against those attempting mad things except by greater force, the matter was referred to the emperor. He, who by the innate clemency of his mind preferred to correct the erring rather than to destroy them, wrote back that vengeance was indeed not to be demanded for those whom the blood shed before the altars had made martyrs—in whom the glory of their merits had overcome the pain of death; but that, for the rest, the cause of the evils and the roots of discord, which came for the defence of the images, ought to be utterly cut down, so that, these being exterminated, the cause of wars too might likewise be laid to rest.
And when these writings had come, and, as it were after a brief truce, each people had assembled at the temple to hear them, immediately, as soon as the first page of the letter was unsealed—in whose opening the empty superstition of the heathen was censured—an immense shout was raised by our men, and amazement and dread [seized] the heathen, so that the presence of God might be recognized, granting boldness to his people and putting to flight the fury of the demon which had before raged wildly in them. The temple of Serapis at Alexandria has been heard of, I suppose, by all, and is even known to most.
It is a place raised on high, not by nature but by hand and construction, through a hundred steps or even more, extended on every side over vast square spaces; and all of it, right up to the summit of the pavements, was built with vaulted work, which, with lights admitted from above and with hidden inner chambers separated from one another, furnished use for diverse services and secret offices. In the upper parts, moreover, the outermost spaces of the whole circuit are occupied by exedrae and shrine-chambers and houses extended aloft, in which either the temple-keepers or those whom they called hagneutai—that is, those who purify themselves—were wont to dwell.
Porticoes too, after these, in square rows distinguished, ran round the whole circuit within. In the midst of the whole space was a temple, raised on precious columns and outwardly built of marble stone, amply and magnificently. In it the image of Serapis was so vast that with its right hand it grazed one wall and with its left the other—which monstrous thing was reported to have been composed of every kind of metal and wood. The inner walls of the shrine were clothed first with plates of gold, over these with silver, and lastly with bronze, which was held to be for the protection of the more precious metals. There were also certain things composed by tricks and art, to the amazement and wonder of those who beheld them.
A very small window [was so placed] toward the rising of the sun that, when the times had been carefully observed, at the moment the image [came] to be greeted, a ray of the sun directed through that same window would illuminate the mouth and lips of Serapis, so that, in the sight of the people, Serapis appeared to be greeted with a kiss by the sun. There was also another kind of deceit of this sort. The nature of the magnet stone is reported to have this power, that it seizes and draws iron to itself.
An image of the sun had for this very purpose been fashioned of the finest iron by the craftsman's hand, so that the stone—whose nature we said draws iron to itself—being fixed above in the panelled ceiling, when the image had been placed beneath it exactly in balance, might by natural force seize the iron to itself, and the image might seem to the people to have risen up and to hang in the air. And lest this should be betrayed by a too sudden fall, the ministers of the deceit would say, when [the image] had risen: 'The Sun, as though bidding farewell to Serapis, departs to his own place.' But also many other things had been constructed in that place by the ancients for the sake of deception, which it would now be tedious to enumerate one by one.
But, as we had begun to say, the rescript having been read out, our peoples were indeed ready to overthrow the author of error; yet a certain persuasion had been spread abroad by the heathen themselves, that if a human hand should touch that image, the earth would gape open and at once be dissolved into chaos, and heaven suddenly rush headlong down. This matter gave the peoples a certain amazement for a little while, when lo, one of the soldiers, [relying] more on faith than on arms, dealt [it a blow]. A shout was raised by both peoples, and yet neither did heaven fall nor earth sink down. Then, striking again and again, he cut through the smoky genius of rotten wood, which, being cast down and fire applied, blazed up as easily as dry timber.
After this the head was torn from the neck and, the bushel-measure being pulled down, was dragged off; then the feet and other limbs, hacked with axes and hauled with ropes, were pulled apart, and limb by limb through the several places, in the sight of Alexandria the avenger, the drowsy old man was burnt up. At the last the trunk which remained was consumed together in the amphitheatre, and this was the end of Serapis, of empty superstition and of ancient error. Concerning his origin diverse is the opinion reported of the pagans. Some think him Jupiter, upon whose head the bushel is placed to indicate either that he governs all things by measure and limit, or that life is furnished to mortals by the bounty of the crops.
Others [make him] the power of the river Nile, by whose riches and fertility Egypt is fed. Certain ones assert that the image was formed in honour of our Joseph, on account of the measuring-out of grain by which in the time of famine he came to the aid of the Egyptians. Others report, [as] found in the ancient histories of the Greeks, a certain Apis, a father of a household or a king in Egypt, settled at Memphis, who, when in the time of famine grain had failed at Alexandria, furnished sustenance abundantly to the citizens from his own store.
When he had died, they instituted in his honour a temple at Memphis, in which an ox—as a token of the best husbandman—is reared, having certain distinctive marks of colour, which from his name is called Apis; but the soros—that is, the sepulchre—in which his body was, they brought to Alexandria, and called it first, from the composition, Sorapis, and afterwards, through corruption, Serapis. What the truth is, or whether there is nothing at all in these things, God shall see. But after these things, the very head of idolatry being cast down, by the zeal of a most vigilant priest, whatever prodigies rather than images had existed throughout all Alexandria were exposed to public view with a like end and similar disgrace.
The mind shudders to tell what snares were prepared by the demons for wretched mortals, what deaths, what crimes were concealed in those places which they called sanctuaries, how many heads of infants, cut off, were found with gilded lips, how many agonizing deaths of wretches were depicted there. When these things were brought forth into the light and, drawn out, were carried under the open air, although the heathen fled away in the very confusion and shame, yet if anyone was able to be present, he marvelled that for so many ages he had been ensnared by frauds so nefarious and so shameful.
Whence very many of these, condemning their error and the wickedness now detected, [embraced] the faith of Christ and the worship of the true [God]—[infants having been] slain in [secret] places, and virgins despised for the sake of the inspection of their entrails. I will mention one thing only, which in the temple of Saturn came to the knowledge of all, from which the rest also, which I omit, [may be judged]. By a response of the divinity, to any nobles and men of the first rank who were worshipping in the temple, whose matrons had pleased [the priest] for his lust, he would say that Saturn had commanded him that the man's wife should pass the night in the temple. Then he who had heard, rejoicing that his wife was called by the deigning of the divinity, would send his adorned spouse to the temple.
In the sight of all, the matron being shut up within, Tyrannus, the doors being closed and the keys handed over, would depart; then, silence being made, through hidden and subterranean passages he would creep within the very image of Saturn through gaping cavities—for that image was [hollow]—and, [with lights removed] from the intent and supplicating woman, would suddenly utter through the image of hollow bronze a voice, so that the unhappy woman trembled with dread and joy, because she reckoned herself worthy of the address of so great a divinity. After what he had pleased [had been done], either for the greater consternation or for the [incitement] of lust, all the lights would suddenly be extinguished. Then, coming down, he would work upon the amazed and terror-struck little woman the deception of adultery by profane devices.
When these things had for a long time now been carried on among all the matrons of the wretches, it happened that a certain woman of chaste mind shuddered at the crime and disclosed the fraud of the wickedness to her husband. He, inflamed the more ardently at the wrong done to his wife, nay rather to himself, brought Tyrannus, the inscribed [priest], to the torments. When he had been convicted and had confessed, and the blind frauds had been revealed, shame and disgrace of the pagans pervaded all their homes; upon the adulterous mothers, [uncertain] with images and shrines, both the buildings and the crimes were cut down. And now, at Canopus, who could count the superstitious enormities? Where, under the pretext of the sacerdotal letters—for so they call the ancient letters of the Egyptians—there was almost a public school of the magic art.
That place, [reckoned] by the pagans [so holy] that a much greater celebrity was held there than at Alexandria, it will not be superfluous to expound in a few words. They relate that once the Chaldeans, carrying about their fire-god, held [a contest] with the gods of all the provinces; the gods of the remaining provinces were made of bronze, or gold, or silver, or wood, or stone, or of whatever material, which would without doubt be corrupted by fire. From which it came about that the fire prevailed in all places. When the priest of Canopus had heard these things, he devised a certain cunning thing. [There were water-jars] pierced with very minute holes, by which turbid water, sweating through, is rendered clearer and purer.
One of these he set up as a god, its holes stopped with wax and painted over with various colours, filled with water; and the head, carved from an old image—which was reported [to be that] of Menelaus's helmsman—he carefully fitted, placed on top. After these things, [when the holes] which had been stopped [with wax] are dissolved, the water-jar sweating, the fire is extinguished, and by the priest's fraud Canopus is shown victor over the Chaldeans. Whence the very image of Canopus is formed with very small feet, the neck drawn in and as it were throttled, with a swollen belly in the manner of a water-jar, with a back equally rounded. These things perhaps [availed] the Chaldeans once, but now, at the coming of Theophilus the priest of God, no sweating profited, nor did the fraud hidden by wax come to the rescue.
[The place was] laid waste. But nothing was done that would turn the place into squalor. Lofty [buildings] of abominations were constructed. For in the sepulchre of Serapis, [the profane buildings being cast down], I think it worthy to record whence the occasion for constructing a martyr-shrine was given. In the times of Julian, as though the reins had been loosened, [wickedness] boiled up into every savagery—[the LPNF text is defective, a leaf having been cut out from the Theophilus passage]—[so that men] with maddened mind and deadly hands should invade the sepulchre of John the Baptist, scatter his bones, and, having gathered them up again, burn them with fire, and scatter the holy ashes, mingled with dust, through fields and countryside. But by God's providence it came about that certain men from Jerusalem, from the monastery of Philip the man of God, had come thither for the sake of prayer at that same time.
When they beheld so great a crime being wrought indeed by human hands, yet with a beastlike mind, they counted it more welcome to die than to be defiled by such an abomination. Mingling among those who were gathering up the bones for burning, and collecting them as carefully and as reverently as the circumstances allowed, they secretly carried off, with one Philip, the venerable relics. He, judging it too great a treasure to keep under his own watch alone, sent the relics of the spotless victim by his deacon Julian — afterwards bishop of the city of Parenzo — to Athanasius, then supreme pontiff. Athanasius received them and preserved them to be of profit to a later generation; and now, with the traces of idolatry cast down and overthrown, golden roofs were rising up in buildings once profane.
But after the fall of Serapis, who had never lived, what shrines of any other demon could yet stand? I should say too little were I to add that the unfrequented chapels of every demon fell. Throughout all places, and even through the desert, if any temples or rather sepulchres could be found, they were, through the diligence of each several bishop, undermined and razed to the ground, so that the countryside was once more given back to cultivation which had unjustly belonged to the demons. The figures of Serapis, which were upon the walls of every single house, on the doorways and the doorposts and even the windows, were all so cut away and scraped off that not a trace of any other demon remained; but in their place each man painted the sign of the Lord upon his doorposts, his doorways, his windows, his walls, and his columns.
When those who had survived among the pagans saw this done, they are reported to have come to the recollection of a great matter handed down to them from of old by tradition. For the Egyptians are said to have this sign of ours, the Lord's cross, among those letters which they call hieratic, that is, priestly letters, as one among the rest of the elements of writing that are in use among them. And of this letter, or word, they declare the interpretation to be this: 'the life to come.' Those, therefore, who were then being converted to the faith through wonder at the things that had been done, said that it had thus been handed down to them by the ancients: that these things which were now worshipped should stand only so long as men should not see that sign come, in which there was life.
Hence it came about that those who were of the priests or ministers of the temples were converted to the faith more readily than those whom the illusions of error and the contrivances of deception delighted. Now since it was the custom in Egypt that the measure of the rising of the river Nile should be carried to the temple of Serapis, as to the author of the increase of the waters and of the inundation, when his image had been overthrown and consumed by fire, all alike declared that Serapis, mindful of the injury, would no longer grant the waters and the wonted abundance. But that God might show that it was not Serapis — who was far later than the Nile — but Himself who bade the waters of the river rise in their seasons, there was from that time and thereafter so great an inundation as no age remembered to have occurred before.
And therefore the cubit-measure itself — that is, the gauge of the water — began to be carried thither. But when these deeds were announced to the religious emperor, with his palms stretched out to heaven he is said to have spoken with mighty exultation: 'I thank Thee, O Christ, that without the destruction of that great city...' Meanwhile Valentinian, in the western regions, ended his life by a noose, as far as his age allowed. But some affirmed that this had been done by the treachery of his general Arbogast, and this opinion was held most widely among the people. Others said that the general was indeed innocent of the crime committed, but had furnished the occasions by which the youth was driven to this in the indignation of his spirit, because Arbogast granted him less than full command over all things, as though he were not yet, by reason of his age, strong enough.
Yet there were some of the priests who, having undertaken an embassy of peace from him who was afterwards set up, maintained that the general was free from the crime of that death. But Theodosius, no less ardently kindled to vengeance, took up arms against Eugenius, who had been put in the place of the deceased; having first inquired the will of God through John the monk, of whom we have made mention above.
Then he who had foretold to him his first, bloodless victory over Maximus — foretelling now this one also, though not without much blood shed on both sides — Theodosius accordingly prepared for war, fortified not so much by the resources of arms and weapons as by those of fastings and prayers, and protected not so much by the vigil of sentinels as by the night-long offering of supplications. He went about with the priests and the people to all the places of prayer, and before the shrines of the martyrs and apostles he made his entreaty.
But the pagans, who ever enliven their errors with newer errors, renewed their sacrifices and stained Rome with deadly victims, inspecting the entrails of cattle and announcing from the foreknowledge of the fibres a sure victory for Eugenius. With Flavianus, then of consular rank, conducting these rites the more superstitiously and with all eagerness, they had presumed it certain that Eugenius would be the victor. But when Theodosius, relying on the help of the true religion, began to press upon the gorges of the Alps, those foremost ones, for whom so many victims had been sacrificed in vain, were the demons, trembling in the consciousness of their deceit, turned to flight. Afterwards too the master of these men, himself accountable, though he could have escaped — a very learned man — judged that he more justly deserved death for his error than for any crime.
But the rest drew up their battle-line, and having set ambushes on the higher ridge, they themselves awaited the fight as the army descended the mountain. But when it came to the first ranks, and these straightway surrendered themselves to the lawful prince, while the rest were caught in the lowest valleys, a most bitter conflict was waged. For a long while the victory stood doubtful; the auxiliaries of the barbarians were being slaughtered and were now turning their backs to the enemy. But this happened, not that Theodosius might be conquered, but that he might not seem to conquer through the barbarians. Then he, when he saw the lines of his own men turned in flight, standing on a lofty rock, whence he could both see and be seen by either army, cast away his arms and turned to his accustomed helps, and prostrate in the sight of God:
'Almighty God,' he said, 'Thou knowest that in the name of Christ Thy Son I have undertaken these battles of just vengeance, as I believe. If it be otherwise, avenge it upon me; but if I have come hither with a probable cause and trusting in Thee, stretch forth Thy right hand to Thine own, lest perchance the nations say, Where is their God?' This supplication of the pious prince, sure that it had been received by God, those leaders who were present were emboldened to the slaughter. And chiefly Bacurius, a man distinguished for faith, piety, and strength of mind and body, and one who deserved to be the companion and ally of Theodosius, laid low with pike, javelins, and sword all who were nearest, broke through the dense and crowded throngs of the enemy, and forced his way through thousands of men rushing on, up to the tyrant himself, the columns broken and the slain heaped up in slaughter.
What was done would perhaps scarcely be believed by the impious. For it has been ascertained that, after that prayer of the emperor which he had poured out to God, a wind so violent arose that it hurled back the weapons of the enemy upon those who had cast them. And while, with the wind persisting with great force, every missile shot by the enemy was rendered vain, the spirit of the adversaries being broken, or rather driven back by divine power — Arbogast their general availing nothing, since God was against him though he fought bravely — Eugenius was led, with his hands bound behind his back, before the feet of Theodosius; and there was the end of his life and of the struggle.
Then truly to the religious prince the victory was more glorious over the frustrated opinions of the pagans than over the destruction of the tyrant; for the empty hope and false divination availed them less in death to bring punishment than it served to preserve them in shame. And when, after these things, the emperor, as one foreknowing the future, was beset with anxiety for the ordering of the commonwealth, he straightway sent to the East — where, when about to come to the war, he had entrusted his children to safe keeping — and there commanded Arcadius, the Augustus, to keep the kingdom long since handed over to him. But Honorius, endowed with equal dignity, he bade come more swiftly to the empire of the West.
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When Honorius had been received, embraced with fatherly kisses, and the helm of the western realm had been handed over to him, Theodosius himself, having for seventeen years happily governed the Roman empire, passed over to better things together with the most devout...