Opening
ST. BASIL OF CAESAREA
ST. BASIL OF CAESAREA
To Eustathius the Philosopher.
To Eustathius the Philosopher.
Although I was deeply troubled by the mockery of what people call fortune, which always seems to prevent me from meeting you, your letter gave me wonderful encouragement and comfort. I had already been considering whether what so many people say is really true—that there is a certain Necessity or Fate that governs all the events of our lives, both great and small, and that we human beings have no control over anything; or at least that all human life is driven by some kind of chance. You will be very willing to forgive me for these thoughts when you learn what causes led me to them.
Much distressed as I was by the flouts of what is called fortune, who always seems to be hindering my meeting you, I was wonderfully cheered and comforted by your letter, for I had already been turning over in my mind whether what so many people say is really true, that there is a certain Necessity or Fate which rules all the events of our lives both great and small, and that we human beings have control over nothing; or, that at all events, all human life is driven by a kind of luck. You will be very ready to forgive me for these reflections, when you learn by what causes I was led to make them.
When I heard about your philosophy, I felt contempt for the teachers of Athens and left that city. I passed by the city on the Hellespont more unmoved than any Ulysses passing the songs of the Sirens.
On hearing of your philosophy, I entertained a feeling of contempt for the teachers of Athens, and left it. The city on the Hellespont I passed by, more unmoved than any Ulysses, passing Sirens' songs.
Asia I admired, but I hurried on to the capital of all that is best in it. When I arrived home and did not find you—the prize I had sought so eagerly—many and various unexpected obstacles began. First I missed you because I fell ill. Then when you were setting out for the East I could not start with you. Then, after endless trouble, I reached Syria, but I missed the philosopher, who had set out for Egypt. Then I had to set out for Egypt, a long and weary journey, and even there I did not reach my goal. But my longing was so passionate that I had to either set out for Persia and proceed with you to the farthest barbarian lands (you had gotten there—what an obstinate devil possessed me!) or settle here at Alexandria. I did the latter. I really think that unless, like some tame animal, I had followed a branch held out to me until I was completely worn out, you would have been driven on and on beyond Indian Nyssa or any more remote region, and wandered about out there. Why say more?
Asia I admired; but I hurried on to the capital of all that is best in it. When I arrived home, and did not find you — the prize which I had sought so eagerly — there began many and various unexpected hindrances. First I must miss you because I fell ill; then when you were setting out for the East I could not start with you; then, after endless trouble, I reached Syria, but I missed the philosopher, who had set out for Egypt. Then I must set out for Egypt, a long and weary way, and even there I did not gain my end. But so passionate was my longing that I must either set out for Persia, and proceed with you to the farthest lands of barbarism, (you had got there; what an obstinate devil possessed me!) or settle here at Alexandria. This last I did. I really think that unless, like some tame beast, I had followed a bough held out to me till I was quite worn out, you would have been driven on and on beyond Indian Nyssa, or any more remote region, and wandered about out there. Why say more?
On returning home, I cannot meet you, held back by lingering illnesses. If these do not improve, I will not be able to meet you even in the winter. Is not all this, as you yourself say, due to Fate? Is not this Necessity? Does not my situation nearly surpass the poets' tales of Tantalus? But, as I said, I feel better after receiving your letter, and I am no longer in the same state of mind. When God gives good things, I think we must thank Him and not be angry with Him while He is controlling how they are distributed. So if He allows me to join you, I will consider it the best and most delightful outcome; if He delays me, I will patiently endure the loss. For He always directs our lives better than we could choose for ourselves.
On returning home, I cannot meet you, hindered by lingering ailments. If these do not get better I shall not be able to meet you even in the winter. Is not all this, as you yourself say, due to Fate? Is not this Necessity? Does not my case nearly outdo poets' tales of Tantalus? But, as I said, I feel better after getting your letter, and am now no longer of the same mind. When God gives good things I think we must thank Him, and not be angry with Him while He is controlling their distribution. So if He grant me to join you, I shall think it best and most delightful; if He put me off, I will gently endure the loss. For He always rules our lives better than we could choose for ourselves.