Tag: Letters — Division III — Miscellaneous Letters

(This letter is for Amphilochius, written at the same time and because of the same difficulty as the one we have placed as the second letter to Caesarius.)

(Is for Amphilochius, written at the same time and in consequence of the same trouble as that which we have placed second of the letters to Cæsarius.)

As we recognize gold and stones by their appearance, we can likewise distinguish good people from bad in the same way, and we don't need a very long examination. I shouldn't have needed many words to plead for my most honorable son Amphilochius before Your Magnanimity. I would have expected something strange and unbelievable to happen sooner than for him to do anything dishonorable, or even think of such a thing, in a matter of money. He has such a widespread reputation as a gentleman and as wiser than his years. But what must he endure? Nothing escapes envy, for some accusatory word has touched even him, a man who has fallen under criminal accusation through naivety rather than wickedness of character. But don't allow yourself to tolerate overlooking him in his troubles and distress. Don't do this, I beg your sacred and great mind. Instead, honor your homeland and support his virtue, and show respect for me, who have attained glory by and through you. Be everything to this man, adding the will to the ability, for I know that nothing has equal power with Your Excellency.

As we know gold and stones by their look, so too we may distinguish good men from bad in the same way, and do not need a very long trial. For I should not have needed many words in pleading for my most honourable son Amphilochius with Your Magnanimity. I should rather have expected some strange and incredible thing to happen than that he would do anything dishonourable, or think of such a thing, in a matter of money; such a universal reputation has he as a gentleman, and as wiser than his years. But what must he suffer? Nothing escapes envy, for some word of blame has touched even him, a man who has fallen under accusation of crime through simplicity rather than depravity of disposition. But do not allow it to be tolerable to you to overlook him in his vexations and trouble. Not so, I entreat your sacred and great mind, but honour your country and aid his virtue, and have a respect for me who have attained to glory by and through you; and be everything to this man, adding the will to the power, for I know that there is nothing of equal power with Your Excellency.

(Sophronius, originally from Caesarea in Cappadocia, was an early friend and fellow student of Gregory and Basil. He joined the civil service and quickly advanced to high positions. In 365 AD he was appointed Prefect of Constantinople as a reward for giving timely information to Emperor Valens about the attempted usurpation by Procopius. We know him mainly through the letters of Gregory and Basil, who asked him to help various people. Letter 21 was written in 369 AD to recommend Nicobulus to him. Nicobulus was Gregory's nephew by marriage, the husband of Alypiana, who was the daughter of Gregory's sister Gorgonia. This Nicobulus was a man of great wealth and ability, but he strongly disliked public life. Gregory frequently wrote to various high officials asking them to excuse Nicobulus from appointments that had been forced upon him.)

(Sophronius, a native of the Cappadocian Cæsarea, was an early friend and fellow-student of Gregory and Basil. He entered the Civil Service, and soon rose to high office. In a.d. 365 he was appointed Prefect of Constantinople, as a reward for timely intimation which he gave to the Emperor Valens of the usurpation attempted by Procopius. He is chiefly known to us by the letters of Gregory and Basil, invoking his good offices for various persons. Epistle 21 was written in a.d. 369 to commend to him Nicobulus, Gregory's nephew by marriage, the husband of Alypiana, daughter of his sister Gorgonia. This Nicobulus was a man of great wealth and ability, but much disinclined for public life. Gregory constantly writes to one and another high official to get him excused from appointments which had been thrust upon him.)

Gold is changed and transformed into various shapes at different times, being crafted into many ornaments and used by skill for many purposes; yet it remains what it is—gold. It is not the substance but the form that can be changed. In the same way, believing that your kindness toward your friends will remain unchanged even though you keep rising to higher positions, I have dared to send you this request, because I do not respect your high rank more than I trust your kind nature. I ask you to show favor to my most respectable son Nicobulus, who is connected to me in every way—by family ties, by close friendship, and, what is more important, by shared character. In what matters and to what extent? In whatever he may ask your help, and as much as seems fitting to your Magnanimity. For my part, I will repay you with the best I have. I have the power of speech and of proclaiming your goodness—if not fully according to its worth, at least to the best of my ability.

Gold is changed and transformed into various forms at various times, being fashioned into many ornaments, and used by art for many purposes; yet it remains what it is — gold; and it is not the substance but the form which admits of change. So also, believing that your kindness will remain unchanged for your friends, although you are ever climbing higher, I have ventured to send you this request, because I do not more reverence your high rank than I trust your kind disposition. I entreat you to be favourable to my most respectable son Nicobulus, who is in all respects allied with me, both by kindred and by intimacy, and, which is more important, by disposition. In what matters, and to what extent? In whatever he may ask your aid, and as far as may seem to you to befit your Magnanimity. I on my part will repay you the best I have. I have the power of speech, and of proclaiming your goodness, if not nearly according to its worth, at any rate to the best of my ability.

(In A.D. 368 the city of Nicaea in Bithynia was almost entirely destroyed by a terrible earthquake. Caesarius lost his house, and his personal escape was almost miraculous. Gregory writes (as Basil also did) to congratulate him on his escape, and takes advantage of the occasion to urge him to retire from his secular occupations. Caesarius soon decided to follow this advice and was taking steps to carry out this decision when he died suddenly, early in A.D. 369, at only 40 years old. He left all of his large property to the poor, but it fell for a time into the hands of scheming people, and Gregory, who was his brother's executor, had much difficulty recovering it for the purpose for which it had been intended. (See the letter to Sophronius, Prefect of Constantinople, on this subject.) He was buried at Nazianzus in the Church of the Martyrs, in a vault that his parents had prepared for themselves. Gregory preached the funeral sermon, which is given in the earlier part of this volume. These four are the only letters known to have been exchanged between the brothers.)

(In a.d. 368 the City of Nicæa in Bithynia was almost entirely destroyed by a terrible earthquake. Cæsarius lost his house, and his personal escape was almost miraculous. Gregory writes (as also did Basil) to congratulate him on his escape, and profits by the occasion to urge upon him retirement from his secular avocations. Cæsarius soon resolved to follow this advice, and was taking steps to carry this resolution into effect, when he died suddenly, early in a.d. 369, aged only 40. He left the whole of his large property to the poor, but it fell for a time into the hands of designing persons, and Gregory, who was his brother's executor, had much difficulty in recovering it for the purpose for which it had been intended. (See the letter to Sophronius, Prefect of Constantinople on this subject.) He was buried at Nazianzus in the Church of the Martyrs, in a vault which his parents had prepared for themselves. Gregory preached the funeral sermon, which is given in the former part of this volume. These four are the only letters known to have passed between the brothers.)

Even frightening experiences are useful to the wise—or rather, I would say they are very valuable and beneficial. For although we pray that such things won't happen, when they do occur they teach us. As Peter somewhere admirably says, the afflicted soul is near to God, and everyone who escapes danger is brought into closer relationship with the One who preserved him. Let us not be upset that we experienced this calamity, but instead give thanks that we were delivered. And let us not show ourselves one way to God when we're in danger and another way when the danger has passed. Instead, let us resolve—whether at home or traveling, whether in private life or in public office (for I must say this and cannot leave it out)—to follow the One who has preserved us and to stay close to His side, thinking little of earth's trivial concerns. Let us provide a story for those who come after us that will be great for our glory and for the benefit of our soul, and at the same time a very useful lesson to everyone: that danger is better than security, and that misfortune is preferable to success—at least if before our fears we belonged to the world, but afterward we belong to God. Perhaps I seem somewhat tiresome to you, writing so often about the same subject, and you'll think my letter is not really exhortation but showing off—so enough of this. You should know that I especially desire and wish that I could be with you and share your joy at your preservation, and talk over these matters later. But since that's not possible, I hope to have you visit here as soon as you can, so we can celebrate our thanksgiving together.

Even frights are not without use to the wise; or, as I should say, they are very valuable and salutary. For, although we pray that they may not happen, yet when they do they instruct us. For the afflicted soul, as Peter somewhere admirably says, is near to God; and every man who escapes a danger is brought into nearer relation to Him Who preserved him. Let us not then be vexed that we had a share in the calamity, but let us give thanks that we were delivered. And let us not show ourselves one thing to God in the time of peril, and another when the danger is over, but let us resolve, whether at home or abroad, whether in private life or in public office (for I must say this and may not omit it), to follow Him Who has preserved us, and to attach ourselves to His side, thinking little of the little concerns of earth; and let us furnish a tale to those who come after us, great for our glory and the benefit of our soul, and at the same time a very useful lesson to all, that danger is better than security, and that misfortune is preferable to success, at least if before our fears we belonged to the world, but after them we belong to God. Perhaps I seem to you somewhat of a bore, by writing to you so often on the same subject, and you will think my letter a piece not of exhortation but of ostentation, so enough of this. You will know that I desire and wish especially that I might be with you and share your joy at your preservation, and to talk over these matters later on. But since that cannot be, I hope to receive you here as soon as may be, and to celebrate our thanksgiving together.

(Under the Emperor Valens, Cæsarius returned to public life and was appointed Quæstor of Bithynia. While he held this office, his brother wrote him the following letters on behalf of two cousins: Eulalius, who later succeeded Gregory as Bishop of Nazianzus and with whom Gregory was close friends, and Amphilochius, who had gotten into financial trouble at Constantinople because of a dishonest business partner, and for whom he asks help and advice. However, some scholars believe this letter was not addressed to his brother (who may have been in Constantinople at the time) but to some other high-ranking official at the Imperial Court. Amphilochius soon afterward withdrew from worldly affairs, and by A.D. 347 was already bishop of the important See of Iconium. Gregory's letters to him are given later in this section.)

(Under the Emperor Valens Cæsarius returned to public life and was made Quæstor of Bithynia. While he was in this office the following letters were written to him by his brother on behalf of two cousins, Eulalius, who afterwards succeeded Gregory in the Bishopric of Nazianzus, and with whom Gregory was on terms of intimate friendship, and Amphilochius, who, through the roguery of a partner, had got into some trouble at Constantinople about money matters, and for whom he asks aid and advice. Some however think that this letter is not addressed to his brother (who may have been at Constantinople at the time), but to some other officer of high rank at the Imperial Court. Amphilochius soon after retired from the world, and by a.d. 347 was already bishop of the important See of Iconium. Gregory's letters to him are given later in this division.)

Do me and yourself a favor of the kind you won't often get the chance to do, because such opportunities don't come along very often. Take up the entirely just defense of my dear cousins, who are being troubled far too much over a property they bought as a suitable place for retirement that could provide them with some income. But after completing the purchase, they've fallen into many problems, partly because the sellers turned out to be dishonest, and partly because their neighbors have plundered and robbed them. At this point, it would actually benefit them just to get rid of what they bought for the original price plus the considerable amount they've since spent on it. So if you'd like to take over the transaction yourself, after reviewing the contract to see how it can best and most securely be done, that would be most welcome to both them and me. But if you'd rather not do that, the next best thing would be to stand against the meddling and dishonesty of this man, so he doesn't manage to take advantage of their lack of business experience—either by cheating them if they keep the property, or by causing them financial loss if they sell it. I'm honestly embarrassed to be writing to you about this sort of thing. Still, since we owe this to them because of both their family connection and their profession (for who would one rather help than people like this, or what would be more shameful than refusing to grant such a favor?), please do this kindness for them—whether for your own sake, or for mine, or for their sake, or for all these reasons combined.

Do a kindness to yourself and to me, of a kind that you will not often have an opportunity of doing, because opportunities for such kindnesses do not often occur. Undertake a most righteous protection of my dear cousins, who are worried more than enough about a property which they bought as suitable for retirement, and capable of providing them with some means of living; but after having completed the purchase they have fallen into many troubles, partly through finding the vendors dishonest, and partly through being plundered and robbed by their neighbours, so that it would be a gain to them to get rid of their acquisition for the price they gave for it, plus the not small sum they have spent on it besides. If, then, you would like to transfer the business to yourself, after examining the contract to see how it may be best and most securely done, this course would be most acceptable both to them and me; but if you would rather not, the next best course would be to oppose yourself to the officiousness and dishonesty of the man, that he may not succeed in gaining one advantage over their want of business habits, either by wronging them if they retain their property, or by inflicting loss upon them if they part with it. I am really ashamed to write to you on such a subject. All the same, since we owe it to them, on account both of their relationship and of their profession (for of whom would one rather take care than of such, or what would one be more ashamed of than of being unwilling to confer such a benefit?) do you either for your own sake, or for mine, or for the sake of the men themselves, or for all these sakes put together, by all means do them this kindness.

(See the first letter to Sophronius. We don't know what specific trouble is being referred to here. There are several letters to various people about his troubles and difficulties, many of which came from his unwillingness to take on the duties of any public office. He died young, leaving his widow Alypiana with a large family to raise in greatly reduced financial circumstances. Her troubles and the education of her children were matters of great concern to Gregory, whose frequent letters on this subject will be found below.)

(See the first letter to Sophronius. The nature of the trouble here alluded to is unknown. There are several letters to various persons in reference to his troubles and difficulties, many of them coming from his reluctance to undertake the duties of any public office. He died at an early age, leaving his widow, Alypiana, with a large family to bring up in very reduced circumstances. Her troubles and the education of her children were matters of much concern to Gregory, whose frequent letters on the subject will be found below.)

I agree with what Theognis said. He did not praise the kind of friendship that only involves drinking and having fun together, but instead praised the kind that leads to actually doing things for each other. He put it this way:

I approve the statement of Theognis, who, while not praising the friendship which goes no further than cups and pleasures, praises that which extends to actions in these words,

When someone has a full wine cup, they have many friends, but when serious troubles weigh them down, those friends are fewer.

Beside a full wine cup a man has many friends: But they are fewer when grave troubles press.

We have not shared wine cups together, nor have we met often (though we should have been very careful to do so, both for our own sake and for the sake of the friendship we inherited from our fathers), but we do ask for goodwill that shows itself through actions. A struggle is at hand, and a very serious one. My son Nicobulus has fallen into unexpected troubles from a source where troubles would least be expected. Therefore I beg you to come and help us as soon as possible, both to take part in judging the case and to plead our cause if you find that a wrong is being done to us. But if you cannot come, at least do not let yourself be retained beforehand by the other side, or sell for a small gain the freedom which everyone's testimony confirms has always characterized you.

We, however, have not shared winecups with each other, nor indeed have we often met (though we ought to have been very careful to do so, both for our own sake, and for the sake of the friendship which we inherited from our fathers), but we do ask for the goodwill which shows itself in acts. A struggle is at hand, and a very serious struggle. My son Nicobulus has got into unexpected troubles, from a quarter from which troubles would least be looked for. Therefore I beg you to come and help us as soon as you can, both to take part in trying the case, and to plead our cause, if you find that a wrong is being done us. But if you cannot come, at any rate do not let yourself be previously retained by the other side, or sell for a small gain the freedom which we know from everybody's testimony has always characterized you.

You make fun of me about Alypiana, saying she is small and unworthy of your size, you tall and huge and monstrous fellow in both body and strength. So now I understand that the soul is a matter of measurement, and virtue of weight, and that rocks are more valuable than pearls, and crows more respectable than nightingales. Well then! Take pride in your bigness and your height, and be in no way inferior to the famous sons of Aloeus. You ride a horse and shake a spear and occupy yourself with wild beasts. But she has no such work, and no great strength is needed to carry a comb or handle a distaff or sit by a loom. For such is the glory of woman. And if you add this, that she has become rooted to the ground because of prayer, and by the intense movement of her mind has constant communion with God, what is there here to boast about in your bigness or the height of your body? Pay attention to timely silence, listen to her voice, notice her lack of adornment, her womanly courage, her usefulness at home, her love of her husband. Then you will say with the Spartan that truly the soul is not a subject for measurement, and the outer must look to the inner man. If you look at things this way you will stop joking and mocking her as small, and you will congratulate yourself on your marriage.

You joke me about Alypiana as being little and unworthy of your size, you tall and immense and monstrous fellow both in form and strength. For now I understand that soul is a matter of measure, and virtue of weight, and that rocks are more valuable than pearls, and crows more respectable than nightingales. Well, well! rejoice in your bigness and your cubits, and be in no respect inferior to the famed sons of Aloeus. You ride a horse, and shake a spear, and concern yourself with wild beasts. But she has no such work; and no great strength is needed to carry a comb, or to handle a distaff, or to sit by a loom, For such is the glory of woman. And if you add this, that she has become fixed to the ground on account of prayer, and by the great movement of her mind has constant communion with God, what is there here to boast of in your bigness or the stature of your body? Take heed to seasonable silence: listen to her voice: mark her unadornment, her womanly virility, her usefulness at home, her love of her husband. Then you will say with the Laconian, that verily soul is not a subject for measure, and the outer must look to the inner man. If you look at the things in this way you will leave off joking and deriding her as little, and you will congratulate yourself on your marriage.

(Constantine and Constantius had granted exemption from the military tax to all clergy. However, Julian abolished this privilege, and Valentinian and Valens later restored it. Despite the exemption, tax collectors often still tried to collect this tax from the clergy. The tax collector at Nazianzus attempted to do this in the case of a deacon named Euthalius. On his behalf, Gregory wrote the following letter to Amphilochius, who at that time was one of the main magistrates of the province. The letter is dated to A.D. 372, the year Gregory was ordained to the priesthood. For more information about this Amphilochius, see the introduction to letters II and III to Caesarius (letters 22 and 23).)

(Constantine and Constantius had granted exemption from the military tax to all clerics. This privilege was, however, abolished by Julian, and was restored by Valentinian and Valens: but the collectors of revenue often tried to levy it on them in spite of the exemption. The collector at Nazianzus tried to do this in the case of a Deacon named Euthalius, in whose behalf Gregory wrote the following letter to Amphilochius, who was at the time one of the principal magistrates of the province. The date of the letter is given as a.d. 372, the year of Gregory's Ordination to the Priesthood. For further particulars about this Amphilochius, see introd. to letters II. and III. to Cæsarius Epp. 22, 23.)

Build up a well-constructed chamber with golden columns, as Pindar says, and make yourself known to us from the start on the right side in our current trouble, so that you may construct for yourself a remarkable palace and show yourself in it with a good reputation. But how will you do this? By honoring God and the things of God, than whom nothing can be greater in your eyes. But how, and by what action can you honor Him? By this one action: by protecting the servants of God and ministers of the altar. One of these is our fellow deacon Euthalius, upon whom, I don't know how, the officers of the Prefecture are trying to impose a payment of gold after his promotion to the higher rank. Please do not allow this. Extend a hand to this deacon and to the whole clergy, and above all to me, for whom you care. Otherwise he would have to endure a serious wrong, alone among men deprived of the kindness of the time and the privilege granted by the Emperor to the clergy, and would even be insulted and fined, possibly because of my weakness. It would be good for you to prevent this even if others are not well disposed.

Support a wellbuilt chamber with columns of gold, as Pindar says, and make yourself from the beginning known to us on the right side in our present anxiety, that you may build yourself a notable palace, and show yourself in it with a good fame. But how will you do this? By honouring God and the things of God, than Whom there can be nothing greater in your eyes. But how, and by what act can you honour Him? By this one act, by protecting the servants of God and ministers of the altar. One of these is our fellow deacon Euthalius, on whom, I know not how, the officers of the Prefecture are trying to impose a payment of gold after his promotion to the higher rank. Pray do not allow this. Reach a hand to this deacon and to the whole clergy, and above all to me, for whom you care; for otherwise he would have to endure a grievous wrong, alone of men deprived of the kindness of the time and the privilege granted by the Emperor to the Clergy, and would even be insulted and fined, possibly on account of my weakness. It would be well for you to prevent this even if others are not well disposed.

(Gregory, Bishop of Nyssa, was a younger brother of Basil the Great. Ordained a Reader at an early age, he grew tired of his vocation and became a professor of Rhetoric. This caused scandal in the Church and brought much grief to his friends. Gregory of Nazianzus wrote him the following letter of protest, which had some effect, for shortly afterwards he gave up his secular occupation and retired to the monastery which his brother Basil had founded in Pontus. Here he spent several years studying Holy Scripture and the best Commentators.)

(Gregory, Bishop of Nyssa, was a younger brother of Basil the Great. Ordained a Reader at an early age he grew tired of his vocation, and became a professor of Rhetoric. This gave scandal in the Church and occasioned much grief to his friends. Gregory of Nazianzus, wrote him the following letter of remonstrance, which was not without effect, for shortly afterwards he gave up his secular avocation, and retired to the Monastery which his brother Basil had founded in Pontus. Here he spent several years in the study of Holy Scripture and the best Commentators.)

There is one good quality in my character, and I will boast about this one thing out of many. I am equally upset with myself and my friends when it comes to a bad plan. Since all who live according to God and walk by the same Gospel are friends and relatives, why shouldn't you hear from me plainly what everyone else is whispering? They do not approve of your inglorious glory (to borrow a phrase from your own profession), your gradual descent to a lower way of life, and your ambition—the worst of demons, according to Euripides. What has happened to you, wisest of men, and why do you condemn yourself by casting away the sacred and delightful books you once used to read to the people (don't be ashamed to hear this)? You have hung them up over the fireplace, as people do in winter with rudders and hoes, and have devoted yourself to harsh and bitter books instead. You prefer to be called a Professor of Rhetoric rather than of Christianity. I, thank God, would rather be the latter than the former. Please, my dear friend, don't let this continue any longer. Even though it is very late, sober up again, come back to yourself, and make your apology to the faithful, to God, and to His Altars and Sacraments from which you have withdrawn. Don't say to me in proud rhetorical style, "What, wasn't I a Christian when I practiced rhetoric? Wasn't I a believer when I was working among the boys?" And perhaps you will call God as your witness. No, my friend, not as thoroughly as you should have been, even if I partly grant you that. What about the offense you give to others through your current work—to others who are naturally prone to evil—and the opportunity you give them to think and speak the worst of you? Falsely, I admit, but why was it necessary? A person doesn't live for himself alone but also for his neighbor, and it's not enough to persuade yourself—you must persuade others as well. If you practiced boxing in public, or gave and received blows in the theatre, or twisted yourself shamefully, would you claim to have a temperate soul? Such an argument doesn't befit a wise man; it's frivolous to accept it. "If you make a change I shall rejoice even now," said one of the Pythagorean philosophers, lamenting the fall of a friend, "but if not, you are dead to me." I won't say this yet for your sake. "Being a friend, he became an enemy, yet still a friend," as the Tragedy says. But I will be grieved (to put it gently) if you neither see what is right yourself, which is the highest way, nor follow the advice of others, which is the next best thing. This is my counsel. Forgive me that my friendship for you makes me grieve and stirs me up both on your behalf and on behalf of the whole priestly order, and I may add on behalf of all Christians. And if I may pray with you or for you, may God who quickens the dead aid your weakness.

There is one good point in my character, and I will boast myself of one point out of many. I am equally vexed with myself and my friends over a bad plan. Since, then, all are friends and kinsfolk who live according to God, and walk by the same Gospel, why should you not hear from me in plain words what all men are saying in whispers? They do not approve your inglorious glory (to borrow a phrase from your own art), and your gradual descent to the lower life, and your ambition, the worst of demons, according to Euripides. For what has happened to you, O wisest of men, and for what do you condemn yourself, that you have cast away the sacred and delightful books which you used once to read to the people (do not be ashamed to hear this), or have hung them up over the chimney, as men do in winter with rudders and hoes, and have applied yourself to salt and bitter ones, and preferred to be called a Professor of Rhetoric rather than of Christianity? I, thank God, would rather be the latter than the former. Do not, my dear friend, do not let this be longer the case, but, though it is full late, become sober again, and come to yourself once more, and make your apology to the faithful, and to God, and to His Altars and Sacraments, from which you have withdrawn yourself. And do not say to me in proud rhetorical style, What, was I not a Christian when I practised rhetoric? Was I not a believer when I was engaged among the boys? And perhaps you will call God to witness. No, my friend, not as thoroughly as you ought to have been, even if I grant it you in part. What of the offense to others given by your present employment — to others who are prone naturally to evil — and of the opportunity afforded them both to think and to speak the worst of you? Falsely, I grant, but where was the necessity? For a man lives not for himself alone but also for his neighbour; nor is it enough to persuade yourself, you must persuade others also. If you were to practise boxing in public, or to give and receive blows in the theatre, or to writhe and twist yourself shamefully, would you speak of yourself as having a temperate soul? Such an argument does not befit a wise man; it is frivolous to accept it. If you make a change I shall rejoice even now, said one of the Pythagorean philosophers, lamenting the fall of a friend; but, he wrote, if not you are dead to me. But I will not yet say this for your sake. Being a friend, he became an enemy, yet still a friend, as the Tragedy says. But I shall be grieved (to speak gently), if you do neither yourself see what is right, which is the highest method of all, nor will follow the advice of others, which is the next. Thus far my counsel. Forgive me that my friendship for you makes me grieve, and kindles me both on your behalf and on behalf of the whole priestly Order, and I may add on that of all Christians. And if I may pray with you or for you, may God who quickens the dead aid your weakness.

(On the death of Emperor Constantius, the undisputed succession passed to his cousin Julian the Apostate, who immediately began to use all the power of the Empire to discourage Christianity—though not outright persecuting it—and to restore the supremacy of ancient Paganism. One of his first acts was to dismiss all the men who had held high positions under his predecessor. However, S. Cæsarius, Gregory's brother, was to be an exception. Julian, who had perhaps known and respected him at Athens, did everything he could to keep him at Court and to win his loyalty. This caused great anxiety to Gregory and other friends of Cæsarius, who foresaw that Julian would do his utmost to undermine the young man's faith, and could not be sure that he would have the courage to resist such attacks. In his distress Gregory wrote him the following letter. Shortly afterward the expected attempt was made. S. Cæsarius bravely stood his ground against the Emperor, and after declaring his firm determination to hold fast to his faith, resigned his position at Court and withdrew to Nazianzus.)

(On the death of the Emperor Constantius the undisputed succession devolved on his cousin Julian the Apostate, who at once began to employ all the power of the Empire to discourage, while not absolutely persecuting, Christianity, and to restore the supremacy of the ancient Paganism. One of his first acts was to dismiss all the men who had held high dignities under his predecessor. S. Cæsarius, Gregory's brother, was however to be excepted; Julian, who had perhaps known and esteemed him at Athens, did all that he could to keep him at Court, and to attach him to himself. This caused much anxiety to Gregory and other friends of Cæsarius, who foresaw that Julian would do his utmost to shake the young man's faith, and could not feel sure that he would have courage to resist such assaults. In his trouble Gregory wrote him the following letter. Shortly afterwards the expected attempt was made. S. Cæsarius bravely held his ground against the Emperor, and after declaring his unalterable determination to hold firm to his faith, resigned his office at Court and withdrew to Nazianzus.)

I've had enough reason to feel ashamed because of you; that I was grieved hardly needs to be said to the person who knows me best of all. But setting aside my own feelings and the distress (and let me add the fear) that the rumors about you caused me, I wish you could have heard, if it were possible, what others were saying—both relatives and outsiders who know us in any way (Christians, I mean, of course)—about you and me. And not just some of them, but every single one without exception; for people are always more ready to philosophize about strangers than about their own relatives. Speeches like the following have become a kind of standard exercise among them: Now a bishop's son enlists in the army; now he seeks worldly power and fame; now he is a slave to money, when the fire is being rekindled for everyone, and people are running the race for their lives; and he does not consider the one true glory and safety and wealth to be standing nobly against the times and placing himself as far as possible beyond every abomination and defilement. How then can the bishop urge others not to be swept along with the times or to become involved with idols? How can he rebuke those who do wrong in other ways, when his own household takes away his right to speak freely? We have to hear this every day, and even harsher things, with some speakers perhaps saying them out of friendship and others with hostile intent. How do you think we feel, and what state of mind are we in—we who profess to serve God and to consider the only good to be looking forward to the hopes of the future—when we hear such things? Our venerable father is very distressed by everything he hears, which even makes him disgusted with life. I console and comfort him as best I can by making myself responsible for your character and assuring him that you will not continue to grieve us this way. But if our dear mother were to hear about you (so far we've kept her in the dark by various means), I think she would be completely inconsolable, being, as a woman, of weak mind, and besides being unable, through her great piety, to control her feelings on such matters. If then you care at all for yourself and us, pursue some better and safer course. Our resources are certainly enough for an independent life, at least for a man of moderate desires who is not insatiable in his craving for more. Moreover, I don't see what occasion for your settling down we should wait for if we let this one pass. But if you cling to the same opinion and everything seems trivial to you compared to your own desires, I don't wish to say anything else that might upset you, but this I predict and declare: one of two things must happen—either you, remaining a genuine Christian, will be ranked among the lowest and will be in a position unworthy of yourself and your hopes, or in grasping at honors you will harm yourself in what matters more and will have a share in the smoke, if not actually in the fire.

I have had enough to blush for in you; that I was grieved, it is hardly necessary to say to him who of all men knows me best. But, not to speak of my own feelings, or of the distress with which the rumour about you filled me (and let me say also the fear), I should have liked you, had it been possible, to have heard what was said by others, both relations and outsiders, who are any way acquainted with us ( Christians I mean, of course,) about you and me; and not only some of them, but everyone in turn alike; for men are always more ready to philosophize about strangers than about their own relations. Such speeches as the following have become a sort of exercise among them: Now a Bishop's son takes service in the army; now he covets exterior power and fame; now he is a slave of money, when the fire is being rekindled for all, and men are running the race for life; and he does not deem the one only glory and safety and wealth to be to stand nobly against the times, and to place himself as far as possible out of reach of every abomination and defilement. How then can the Bishop exhort others not to be carried along with the times, or to be mixed up with idols? How can he rebuke those who do wrong in other ways, seeing his own home takes away his right to speak freely? We have every day to hear this, and even more severe things, some of the speakers perhaps saying them from a motive of friendship, and others with unfriendly feelings. How do you think we feel, and what is the state of mind with which we, men professing to serve God, and to deem the only good to be to look forward to the hopes of the future, hear such things as these? Our venerable Father is very much distressed by all that he hears, which even disgusts him with life. I console and comfort him as best I can, by making myself surety for your mind, and assuring him that you will not continue thus to grieve us. But if our dear Mother were to hear about you (so far we have kept her in the dark by various devices), I think she would be altogether inconsolable; being, as a woman, of a weak mind, and besides unable, through her great piety, to control her feelings on such matters. If then you care at all for yourself and us, try some better and safer course. Our means are certainly enough for an independent life, at least for a man of moderate desires, who is not insatiable in his lust for more. Moreover, I do not see what occasion for your settling down we are to wait for, if we let this one pass. But if you cling to the same opinion, and every thing seems to you of small account in comparison with your own desires, I do not wish to say anything else that may vex you, but this I foretell and protest, that one of two things must happen; either you, remaining a genuine Christian, will be ranked among the lowest, and will be in a position unworthy of yourself and your hopes; or in grasping at honours you will injure yourself in what is more important, and will have a share in the smoke, if not actually in the fire.