PART I. --- ACKNOWLEDGED WRITINGS.

A DECLARATION OF FAITH.(1)

    THERE is one God, the Father of the living Word, who is His subsistent Wisd
om and Power and Eternal Image:(2) perfect Begetter of the perfect Begotten, Fa
ther of the only-begotten Son. There is one Lord, Only of the Only,(3) God of G
od, Image and Likeness of Deity, Efficient Word,(4) Wisdom comprehensive(5) of
the constitution of all things, and Power formative(6) of the whole creation, t
rue Son of true Father, Invisible of Invisible, and Incorruptible of Incorrupti
ble, and Immortal of Immortal and Eternal of Eternal.(7) And there is One Holy
Spirit, having His subsistence(8) from God, and being made manifest(9) by the S
on, to wit to men:(10) Image(11) of the Son, Perfect Image of the Perfect;(12)
Life, the Cause of the living; Holy Fount; Sanctity, the Supplier, or Leader,(1
3) of Sanctification; in whom is manifested God the Father, who is above all an
d in all, and God the Son, who is through all. There is a perfect Trinity, in g
lory and eternity and sovereignty, neither divided nor estranged.(14) Wherefore
 there is nothing either created or in servitude(15) in the Trinity;(16) nor an
ything superinduced,(17) as if at some former period it was non-existent, and a
t some later period it was introduced. And thus neither was the Son ever wantin
g to the Father, nor the Spirit to the Son;(18) but without variation and witho
ut change, the same Trinity abideth ever.(19)

8

ELUCIDATION.

    THE story of the "Revelation" is of little consequence, though, if this wer
e Gregory's genuine work, it would be easy to account for it as originating in
a beautiful dream. But it is very doubtful whether it be a genuine work; and, t
o my mind, it is most fairly treated by Lardner, to whose elaborate chapter con
cerning Gregory every scholar must refer.(1) Dr. Burton, in his edition of Bish
op Bull's works,(2) almost overrules that learned prelate's inclination to thin
k it genuine, in the following words: "Hanc formulam minime esse Gregorii authe
nticam ... multis haud spernendis argumentis demonstrat Lardner." Lardner think
s it a fabrication of the fourth century.
    Cave's learned judgment is more favourable; and he gives the text(3) from G
regory of Nyssa, which he translates as follows: "There is one God, the Father
of the living Word and of the subsisting Wisdom and Power, and of Him who is Hi
s Eternal Image, the perfect begetter of Him that is perfect, the Father of the
 only-begotten Son. There is one Lord, the only Son of the only Father, God of
God, the character and image of the Godhead, the powerful Word, the comprehensi
ve Wisdom, by which all things were made, and the Power that gave being to the
whole creation, the true Son of the true Father, the Invisible of the Invisible
, the Incorruptible of the Incorruptible, the Immortal of the Immortal, and the
 Eternal of Him that is Eternal. There is one Holy Ghost, having its subsistenc
e of God, which appeared through the Son to mankind, the perfect Image of the p
erfect Son, the Life-giving Life, the holy Fountain, the Sanctity, and the Auth
or of sanctification, by whom God the Father is made manifest, who is over all,
 and in all; and God the Son, who is through all. A perfect Trinity, which neit
her in glory, eternity, or dominion is divided, or departed from itself."

A METAPHRASE OF THE BOOK OF ECCLESIASTES.(1)

CHAP. I.(2)

    THESE words speaketh Solomon, the son of David the king and prophet, to the
 whole Church of God, a prince most honoured, and a prophet most wise above all
 men. How vain and fruitless are the affairs of men, and all pursuits that occu
py man! For there is not one who can tell of any profit attaching to those thin
gs which men who creep on earth strive by body and soul to attain to, in servit
ude all the while to what is transient, and undesirous of considering aught hea
venly with the noble eye of the soul. And the life of men weareth away, as day
by day, and in the periods of hours and years, and the determinate courses of t
he sun, some are ever coming, and others passing away. And the matter is like t
he transit of torrents as they fall into the measureless deep of the sea with a
 mighty noise. And all things that have been constituted by God for the sake of
 men abide the same: as, for instance, I that man is born of earth, and departs
 to earth again; that the earth itself continues stable; that the sun accomplis
hes its circuit about it perfectly, and rolls round to the same mark again; and
 that the winds(3) in like manner, and the mighty rivers which flow into the se
a, and the breezes that beat upon it, all act without forcing it to pass beyond
 its limits, and without themselves also violating their appointed laws. And th
ese things, indeed, as bearing upon the good of this life of ours, are establis
hed thus fittingly. But those things which are of men's devising, whether words
 or deeds, have no measure. And there is a plenteous multitude of words, but th
ere is no profit from random and foolish talking. But the race of men is natura
lly insatiate in its thirst both for speaking and for hearing what is spoken; a
nd it is man's habit, too, to desire to look with idle eyes on all that happens
. What can occur afterwards, or what can be wrought by men which has not been d
one already? What new thing is there worthy of mention, of which there has neve
r yet been experience? For I think there is nothing which one may call new, or
which, on considering it, one shall discover to be strange or unknown to those
of old. But as former things are buried in oblivion, so also things that are no
w subsistent will in the course of time vanish utterly from the knowledge of th
ose who shall come after us. And I speak not these things unadvisedly, as actin
g now the preacher.(4) But all these things were carefully pondered by me when
entrusted with the kingdom of the Hebrews in Jerusalem. And I examined diligent
ly, and considered discreetly, the nature of all that is on earth, and I percei
ved it to be most various;(5) and I saw that to man it is given to labour upon
earth, ever carried about by all different occasions of toil, and with no resul
t of his work. And all things here below are full of the spirit of strangeness
and abomination, so that it is not possible for one to retrieve them now; nay,
rather it is not possible for one at all to conceive what utter vanity(6) has t
aken possession of all human affairs. For once. on a time I communed with mysel
f, and thought that then I was wiser in this than all that were before me, and
I was expert in understanding parables and the natures of things. But I learned
 that I gave myself to such pursuits to no purpose, and that if wisdom follows
knowledge, so troubles attend on wisdom.

CHAP. II.

    Judging, therefore, that it stood thus with this matter, I decided to turn
to another mariner of life, and to give myself to pleasure, and to take experie
nce of various delights. Anti now I learned that all such things are vain; and
I put a check on laughter, when it ran on carelessly; and restrained pleasure,
according to the rule of moderation, and was bitterly wroth against it. And whe
n I perceived that the soul is able to arrest the body in its disposition to in
toxication and wine-bibbing, and that temperance makes lust its subject, I soug
ht earnestly to observe what object of

10

true worth and of real excellence is set before men, which they shall attain to
 in this present life. For I passed through all those other objects which are d
eemed worthiest, such as the erecting of lofty houses and the planting of vines
, and in addition, the laying out of pleasure-grounds, and the acquisition and
culture of all manner of fruit-bearing trees; and among them also large reservo
irs for the reception of water were constructed, and distributed so as to secur
e the plentiful irrigation of the trees. And I surrounded myself also with many
 domestics, both man-servants and maid-servants; and some of them I procured fr
om abroad, and others I possessed and employed as born in my own house. And her
ds of four-fooled creatures, as well of cattle as of sheep, more numerous than
any of those of old acquired, were made my property. And treasures of gold and
silver flowed in upon me; and I made the kings of all nations my dependants and
 tributaries. And very many choirs of male and female singers were trained to y
ield me pleasure by the practice of all-harmonious song. And I had banquetings;
 and for the service of this part of my pleasure, I got me select cup-bearers o
f both sexes beyond my reckoning,--so far did I surpass in these things those w
ho reigned before me in Jerusalem. And thus it happened that the interests of w
isdom declined with me, while the claims of evil appetency increased. For when
I yielded myself to every allurement of the eyes, and to the violent passions o
f the heart, that make their attack from all quarters, and surrendered myself t
o the hopes held out by pleasures, I also made my will the bond-slave of all mi
serable delights. For thus my judgment was brought to such a wretched pass, tha
t I thought these things good, and that it was proper for me to engage in them.
 At length, awaking and recovering my sight, I perceived that the things I had
in hand were l altogether sinful and very evil, and the deeds of a spirit not g
ood. For now none of all the objects of men's choice seems to me worthy of appr
oval, or greatly to be desired by a just mind. Wherefore, having pondered at on
ce the advantages of wisdom and the ills of folly, I should with reason admire
that man greatly, who, being borne on in a thoughtless course, and afterwards a
rresting himself, should return to right and duty. For wisdom and folly, are wi
dely separated, and they are as different from each other as day is from night.
 He, therefore, who makes choice of virtue, is like one who sees all things pla
inly, anti looks upward, and who holdeth his ways in the time of clearest light
. But he, on the other hand, who has involved himself in wickedness, is like a
man who wanders helplessly about in a moonless night, as one who is blind, and
deprived of the sight of things by his darkness.(1) And when I considered the e
nd of each of these modes of life, I found there was no profit in the latter;(2
) and by setting myself to be the companion of the foolish, I saw that I should
 receive the wages of folly. For what advantage is there in those thoughts, or
what profit is there in the multitude of words, where the streams of foolish sp
eaking are flowing, as it were, from the fountain of folly? Moreover, there is
nothing common to the wise man and to the fool, neither as regards the memory o
f men, nor as regards the recompense of God. And as to all the affairs of men,
when they are yet apparently but beginning to be, the end at once surprises the
m. Yet the wise man is never partaker of the same end with the foolish. Then al
so did I hate all my life, that had been consumed in vanities, and which I had
spent with a mind engrossed in earthly anxieties. For, to speak in brief, all m
y affairs have been wrought by me with labour and pain, as the efforts of thoug
htless impulse; and some other person, it may be a wise man or a fool, will suc
ceed to them, I mean, the chill fruits of my toils. But when I cut myself off f
rom these things, and cast them away, then did that real good which is set befo
re man show itself to me,--namely, the knowledge of wisdom and the possession o
f manly virtue.(3) And if a man neglects these things, and is inflamed with the
 passion for other things, such a man makes choice of evil instead of good, and
 goes after what is bad instead of what is excellent, and after trouble instead
 of peace; for he is distracted by every manner of disturbance, and is burdened
 with continual anxieties night and day, with oppressive labours of body as wel
l as with ceaseless cares of mind,--his heart moving in constant agitation, by
reason of the strange and senseless affairs that occupy him. For the perfect go
od does not consist in eating and drinking, although it is true that it is from
 God that their sustenance cometh to men; for none of those things which are gi
ven for our maintenance subsist without His providence. But the good man who ge
ts wisdom from God, gets also heavenly enjoyment; while, on the other hand, the
 evil man. smitten with ills divinely inflicted, and afflicted with the disease
 of lust, toils to amass much, and is quick to put him to shame who is honoured
 by God in presence of the Lord of all, proffering useless gifts, and making th
ings deceitful and vain the pursuits of his own miserable soul.

11

CHAP. III.

    For this present time is filled with all things that are most contrary(1) t
o each other--births and deaths, the growth of plants and their uprooting, cure
s and killings, the building up and the pulling down of houses, weeping and lau
ghing, mourning and dancing. At this moment a man gathers of earth's products,
and at another casts them away; and at one time he ardently desireth the beauty
 of woman, and at another he hateth it. Now he seeketh something, and again he
loseth it; and now he keepeth, and again he casteth away; at one time he slayet
h, and at another he is slain; he speaketh, and again he is silent; he loveth,
and again he hateth. For the affairs of men are at one time in a condition of w
ar, and at another in a condition of peace; while their fortunes are so inconst
ant, that from bearing the semblance of good, they change quickly into acknowle
dged ills. Let us have done, therefore, with vain labours. For all these things
, as appears to me, are set to madden men, as it were, with their poisoned stin
gs. And the ungodly observer of the times and seasons is agape for this world,(
2) exerting himself above measure to destroy the image(3) of God, as one who ha
s chosen to contend against it(4) from the beginning onward to the end.(5) I am
 persuaded, therefore, that the greatest good for man is cheerfulness and well-
doing, and that this shortlived enjoyment, which alone is possible to us, comes
 from God only, if righteousness direct our doings. But as to those everlasting
 and incorruptible things which God hath firmly established, it is not possible
 either to take aught from them or to add aught to them. And to men in general,
 those things, in sooth, are fearful and wonderful;(6) and those things indeed
which have been, abide so; and those which are to be, have already been, as reg
ards His foreknowledge. Moreover, the man who is injured has God as his helper.
 I saw in the lower parts the pit of punishment which receives the impious, but
 a different place allotted for the pious. And I thought with myself, that with
 God all things are judged and determined to be equal; that the righteous and t
he unrighteous, and objects with reason and without reason, are alike in His ju
dgment. For that their time is measured out equally to all, and death impends o
ver them, and in this the races of beasts and men are alike in the judgment of
God, and differ from each other only in the matter of articulate speech; and al
l things else happen alike to them, and death receives all equally, not more so
 in the case of the other kinds of creatures than in that of men. For they have
 all the same breath of life, and men have nothing more; but all are, in one wo
rd, vain, deriving their present condition(7) from the same earth, and destined
 to perish, and return to the same earth again. For it is uncertain regarding t
he souls of men, whether they shall fly upwards; and regarding the others which
 the unreasoning creatures possess, whether they shall fall downward. And it se
emed to me, that there is no other good save pleasure, and the enjoyment of thi
ngs present. For I did not think it possible for a man, when once he has tasted
 death, to return again to the enjoyment of these things.(8)

CHAP. IV.

    And leaving all these reflections, I considered and turned in aversion from
 all the forms of oppression(9) which are done among men; whence some receiving
 injury weep and lament, who are struck down by violence in utter default of th
ose who protect them, or who should by all means comfort them in their trouble.
(10) And the men who make might their right(11) are exalted to an eminence, fro
m which, however, they shall also fall. Yea, of the unrighteous and audacious,
those who are dead fare better than those who are still alive. And better than
both these is he who, being destined to be like them, has not yet come into bei
ng, since he has not yet touched the wickedness which prevails among men. And i
t became clear to me also how great is the envy which follows a man from his ne
ighbours, like the sting of a wicked spirit; and I saw that he who receives it,
 and takes it as it were into his breast, has nothing else but to eat his own h
eart, and tear it, and consume both soul and body, finding inconsolable vexatio
n in the good fortune of others.(12) And a wise man would choose to have one of
 his hands full, if it were with ease and quietness, rather than both of them w
ith travail and with the villany of a treacherous spirit. Moreover, there is ye
t another thing which I know to happen contrary to what is fit-

12

ting, by reason of the evil will of man. He who is left entirely alone, having
neither brother nor son, but prospered with large possessions, lives on in the
spirit of insatiable avarice, and refuses l to give himself in any way whatever
 to goodness. Gladly, therefore, would I ask such an one for what reason he lab
ours thus, fleeing with headlong speed(1) from the doing of anything good, and
distracted by the many various passions for making gain(2) Far better than such
 are those who have taken up an order of life in common,(3) from which they may
 reap the best blessings. For when two men devote themselves in the
right spirit to the same objects, though some mischance befalls the one, he has
 still at least no slight alleviation in having his companion by him. And the g
reatest of all calamities to a man in evil fortune is the want of a friend to h
elp and cheer him.(4) And those who live together both double the good fortune
that befalls them, and lessen the pressure of the storm of disagreeable events;
 so that in the day they are distinguished for their frank confidence in each o
ther, and in the night they appear notable for their cheerfulness.(5) But he wh
o leads a solitary life passes a species of existence full of terror to himself
; not perceiving that if one should fall upon men welded closely together, he a
dopts a rash and perilous course, and that it is not easy to snap the threefold
 cord.(6) Moreover, I put a poor youth, if he be wise, before an aged prince de
void of wisdom, to whose thoughts it has never occured that it is possible that
 a man may be raised from the prison to the throne, and that the very man who h
as exercised his power unrighteously shall at a later period be righteously cas
t out. For it may happen that those who are subject to a youth, who is at the s
ame time sensible, shall be free from trouble,--those, I mean, who are his elde
rs.(7) Moreover, they who are born later cannot praise another, of whom they ha
ve had no experience,(8) and are led by an unreasoning judgment, and by the imp
ulse of a contrary spirit. But in exercising the preacher's office, keep thou t
his before thine eyes, that thine own life be rightly directed, and that thou p
rayest in behalf of the foolish, that they may get understanding, and know how
to shun the doings of the wicked.

CHAP. V.

    Moreover, it is a good thing to use the tongue sparingly, and to keep a cal
m and rightly balanced(9) heart in the exercise of speech.(10) For it is not ri
ght to give utterance in words to things that are foolish and absurd, or to all
 that occur to the mind; but we ought to know and reflect, that though we are f
ar separated from heaven, we speak in the hearing of God, and that it is good f
or us to speak without offence. For as dreams and visions of many kinds attend
manifold cares of mind, so also silly talking is conjoined with folly. Moreover
, see to it, that a promise made with a vow be made good in fact. This, too, is
 proper to fools, that they are unreliable. But be thou true to thy word, knowi
ng that it is ranch better for thee not to vow or promise to do anything, than
to vow and then fail of performance. And thou oughtest by all means to avoid th
e flood of base words, seeing that God will hear them. For the man who makes su
ch things his study gets no more benefit by them than to see his doings brought
 to nought by God. For as the multitude of dreams is vain, so also the multitud
e of words. But the fear of God is man's salvation, though it is rarely found.
Wherefore thou oughtest not to wonder though thou seest the poor oppressed, and
 the judges misinterpreting the law. But thou oughtest to avoid the appearance
of surpassing those who are in power. For even should this prove to be the case
, yet, from the terrible ills that shall befall thee, wickedness of itself will
 not deliver thee. But even as property acquired by violence is a most hurtful
as well as impious possession, so the man who lusteth after money never finds s
atisfaction for his passion, nor good-will from his neighbours, even though he
may have amassed the greatest possible wealth. For this also is vanity. But goo
dness greatly rejoiceth those who hold by it, and makes them strong,(11) impart
ing to them the capacity of seeing through(12) all things. And it is a great ma
tter also not to be engrossed by such anxieties: for the poor man, even should
he be a slave, and unable to fill his belly plentifully, enjoys at least the ki
nd refreshment of sleep; but the lust of riches is attended by sleepless nights
 and anxieties of mind. And what could there be then more absurd, than with muc
h anxiety and trouble to amass wealth, and keep it with jealous care, if all th
e while one is but maintaining the occasion of countless evils to himself? And
this wealth, besides, must needs perish some time or other, and be lost, whethe
r he who has acquired it has children or not;(13) and the man himself, however
unwillingly, is

13

doomed to die, and return to earth in the selfsame condition in which it was hi
s lot once to come into being.(1) And the fact that he is destined thus to leav
e earth with empty hands, will make the evil all the sorer to him, as he fails
to consider that an end is appointed for his life similar to its beginning, and
 that he toils to no profit, and labours rather for the wind, as it were, than
for the advancement of his own real interest, wasting his whole life in most un
holy lusts and irrational passions, and withal in troubles and pains. And, to s
peak shortly, his days are darkness to such a man, and his life is sorrow. Yet
this is in itself good, and by no means to be despised. For it is the gift of G
od, that a man should be able to reap with gladness of mind the fruits of his l
abours, receiving thus possessions bestowed by God, and not acquired by force.(
2) For neither is such a than afflicted with troubles, nor is he for the most p
art the slave of evil thoughts; but he measures out his life by good deeds, bei
ng of good heart(3) in all things, and rejoicing in the gift of God.

CHAP. VI.

    Moreover, I shall exhibit in discourse the ill-fortune that most of all pre
vails among men. While God may supply a man with all that is according to his m
ind, and deprive him of no object which may in any manner appeal to his desires
, whether it be wealth, or honour, or any other of those things for which men d
istract themselves; yet the man, while thus prospered in all things, as though
the only ill inflicted on him from heaven were just the inability to enjoy them
, may but husband them for his fellow, and fall without profit either to himsel
f or to his neighbours. This I reckon to be a strong proof and clear sign of su
rpassing evil. The man who has borne without blame the name of father of very m
any children, and spent a long life, and has not had his soul filled with good
for so long time, and has had no experience of death meanwhile,(4)--this man I
should not envy either his numerous offspring or his length of days; nay, I sho
uld say that the untimely birth that falls from a woman's womb is better than h
e. For as that came in with vanity, so it also departeth secretly in oblivion,
without having tasted the ills of life or looked on the sun. And this is a ligh
ter evil than for the wicked man not to know what is good, even though he measu
re his life by thousands of years.(5) And the end of both is death. The fool is
 proved above all things by his finding no satisfaction in any lust. But the di
screet man is not held captive by these passions. Yet, for the most part, right
eousness of life leads a man to poverty. And the sight of curious eyes deranges
(6) many, inflaming their mind, and drawing them on to vain pursuits by the emp
ty desire of show.(7) Moreover, the things which are now are known already; and
 it be comes apparent that than is unable to contend with those that are above
him. And, verily, inanities have their course among men, which only increase th
e folly of those who occupy themselves with them.

CHAP. VII.

    For though a man should be by no means greatly advantaged by knowing all in
 this life that is destined to befall him according to his mind (let us suppose
 such a case), nevertheless with the officious activity of men he devises means
 for prying into and gaining an apparent acquaintance with the things that are
to happen after a person's death. Moreover, a good name is more pleasant to the
 mind(8) than oil to the body; and the end of life is better than the birth, an
d to mourn is more desirable than to revel, and to be with the sorrowing is bet
ter than to be with the drunken. For this is the fact, that he who comes to the
 end of life has no further care about alight around him. And discreet anger is
 to be preferred to laughter; for by the severe disposition of countenance the
soul is kept upright(9) The souls of the wise, indeed, are sad and downcast, bu
t those of fools are elated, and given loose to merriment. And yet it is far mo
re desirable to receive blame from one wise man, than to become a hearer of a w
hole chorus of worthless and miserable men in their songs. For the laughter of
fools is like the crackling of many thorns burning in a fierce fire. This, too,
 is misery, yea the greatest of evils, namely oppression;(10) for it intrigues
against the souls of the wise, and attempts to ruin the noble way of life(11) w
hich the good pursue. Moreover, it is right to commend not the man who begins,
but the man who finishes a speech;(12) and what s moderate ought to approve its
elf to the mind, and not what is swollen and inflated. Again, one ought certain
ly to keep wrath in check, and not suffer himself to be carried rashly into ang
er, the slaves of which are fools. More over, they are in error who assert that
 a better

14

manner of life was given to those before us, and they fail to see that wisdom i
s widely different from mere abundance of possessions, and that it is as much m
ore lustrous(1) than these, as silver shines more brightly than its shadow. For
 the life of man hath its excellence(2) not in the acquisition of perishable ri
ches, but in wisdom. And who shall be able, tell me, to declare the providence
of God, which is so great and so beneficent? or who shall be able to recall the
 things which seem to have been passed by of God? And in the former days of my
vanity I considered all things, and saw a righteous man continuing in his right
eousness, and ceasing not from it until death, but even suffering injury by rea
son thereof, and a wicked man perishing with his wickedness. Moreover, it is pr
oper that the righteous man should not seem to be so overmuch, nor exceedingly
and above measure wise, that he may not, as in making some slip, seem to sin ma
ny times over. And be not thou audacious and precipitate, lest an untimely deat
h surprise thee. It is the greatest of all good to take hold of God, and by abi
ding in Him to sin in nothing. For to touch things undefiled with an impure han
d is abomination. But he who in the fear of God submits himself,(3) escapes all
 that is contrary. Wisdom availeth more in the way of help than a band of the m
ost powerful men in a city, and it often also pardons righteously those who fai
l in duty. For there is not one that stumbleth not.(4) Also it becomes thee in
no way to attend upon the words of the impious, that thou mayest not become an
ear-witness(5) of words spoken against thyself, such as the foolish talk of a w
icked servant, and being thus stung in heart, have recourse afterwards thyself
to cursing in turn in many actions. And all these things have I known, having r
eceived wisdom from God, which afterwards I lost, and was no longer able to be
the same.(6) For wisdom fled from me to an infinite distance, and into a measur
eless deep, so that I could no longer get hold of it. Wherefore afterwards I ab
stained altogether from seeking it; and I no longer thought of considering the
follies and the vain counsels of the impious, and their weary, distracted life.
 And being thus disposed, I was borne on to the things themselves; and being se
ized with a fatal passion, I knew woman--that she is like a snare or some such
other object.(7) For her heart ensnares those who pass her; and if she but join
 hand to hand, she holds one as securely as though she dragged him on bound wit
h chains.(8) And from her you can secure your deliverance only by finding a pro
pitious and watchful superintendent in God;(9) for he who is enslaved by sin ca
nnot (otherwise) escape its grasp. Moreover, among all women I sought for the c
hastity(10) proper to them, and I found it in none. And verily a person may fin
d one man chaste among a thousand, but a woman never.(11) And this above all th
ings I observed, that men being made by God simple(12) in mind, contract(13) fo
r themselves manifold reasonings and infinite questionings, and while professin
g to seek wisdom, waste their life in vain words.
CHAP. VIII.

    Moreover, wisdom, when it is found in a man, shows itself also in its posse
ssor's face, and makes his countenance to shine; as, on the other hand, effront
ery convicts the man in whom it has taken up its abode, so soon as he is seen,
as one worthy of hatred. And it is on every account right to give careful heed
to the words of the king, and by all manner of means to avoid an oath, especial
ly one taken in the name of God. It may be fit at the same time to notice an ev
il word, but then it is necessary to guard against any blasphemy against God. F
or it will not be possible to find fault with Him when He inflicts any penalty,
 nor to gainsay the decrees of the Only Lord and King. But it will be better an
d more profitable for a man to abide by the holy commandments, and to keep hims
elf apart from the words of the wicked. For the wise man knows and discerneth b
eforehand the judgment, which shall come at the right time, and sees that it sh
all be just. For all things in the life of men await the retribution from above
; but the wicked man does not seem to know verily(14) that as there is a mighty
 providence over him, nothing in the future shall be hid. He knoweth not indeed
 the things which shall be; for no man shall be able to announce any one of the
m to him duly: for no one shall be found so strong as to be able to prevent the
 angel who spoils him of his life;(15) neither shall any means be devised for c
ancelling in any way the appointed time of death. But even as the man who is ca
ptured in the midst of the battle can only see

15

flight cut off on every side, so all the impiety of man perisheth utterly toget
her. And I am astonished, as often as I contemplate what and how great things m
en have studied to do for the hurt of their neighbours. But this I know, that t
he impious are snatched prematurely from this life, and put out of the way beca
use they have given themselves to vanity. For whereas the providential judgment
(1) of God does not overtake all speedily, by reason of His great long-sufferin
g, and the wicked is not punished immediately on the commission of his offences
,--for this reason he thinks that he may sin the more, as though he were to get
 off with impunity, not understanding that the transgressor shall not escape th
e knowledge of God even after a long interval. This, moreover, is the chief goo
d, to reverence God; for if once the impious man fall away from Him, he shall n
ot be suffered long to misuse his own folly. But a most vicious and false opini
on often prevails among men concerning both the righteous and the unrighteous.
For they form a judgment contrary to truth regarding each of them; and the man
who is really righteous does not get the credit of being so, while, on the othe
r hand, the impious man is deemed prudent and upright. And this I judge to be a
mong the most grievous of errors. Once, indeed, I thought that the chief good c
onsisted in eating and drinking, and that he was most highly favoured of God wh
o should enjoy these things to the utmost in his life; and I fancied that this
kind of enjoyment was the only comfort in life. And, accordingly, I gave heed t
o nothing but to this conceit, so that neither by night nor by day did I withdr
aw myself from all those things which have ever been discovered to minister lux
urious delights to men. And this much I learned thereby, that the man who mingl
es in these things shall by no means be able, however sorely he may labour with
 them, to find the real good.

CHAP. IX.

    Now I thought at that time that all men were judged worthy of the same thin
gs. And if any wise man practised righteousness, and withdrew himself from unri
ghteousness, and as being sagacious avoided hatred with all (which, indeed, is
a thing well pleasing to God), this man seemed to me to labour in vain. For the
re seemed to be one end for the righteous and for the impious, for the good and
 for the evil, for the pure and for the impure, for him that worshipped(2) God,
 and for him that worshipped not. For as the unrighteous man and the good, the
man who sweareth a false oath, and the man who avoids swearing altogether, were
 suspected by me to be driving toward the same end, a certain sinister opinion
stole secretly into my mind, that all men come to their end in a similar way. B
ut now I know that these are the reflections of fools, and errors and deceits.
And they assert largely, that he who is dead has perished utterly, and that the
 living is to be preferred to the dead, even though he may lie in darkness, and
 pass his life-journey after the fashion of a dog, which is better at least tha
n a dead lion. For the living know this at any rate, that they are to die; but
the dead know not anything, and there is no reward proposed to them after they
have completed their necessary course. Also hatred and love with the dead have
their end; for their envy has perished, and their life also is extinguished. An
d he has a portion in nothing who has once gone hence. Error harping still on s
uch a string, gives also such counsel as this: What meanest thou, O man, that t
hou dost not enjoy thyself delicately, and gorge thyself with all manner of ple
asant food, and fill thyself to the full with wine? Dost thou not perceive that
 these things are given us from God for our unrestrained enjoyment? Put on newl
y washed attire, and anoint thy head with myrrh, and see this woman and that, a
nd pass thy vain life vainly.(3) For nothing else remaineth for thee but this,
neither here nor after death. But avail thou thyself of all that chanceth; for
neither shall any one take account of thee for these things, nor are the things
 that are done by men known at all outside the circle of men. And Hades, whatev
er that may he, whereunto we are said to depart, has neither wisdom nor underst
anding. These are the things which men of vanity speak. But I know assuredly, t
hat neither shall they who seem the swiftest accomplish that great race; nor sh
all those who are esteemed mighty and terrible in the judgment of men, overcome
 in that terrible battle. Neither, again, is prudence proved by abundance of br
ead, nor is understanding wont to consort with riches. Nor do I congratulate th
ose who think that all shall find the same things befall them. But certainly th
ose who indulge such thoughts seem to me to be asleep, and to fail to consider
that, caught suddenly like fishes and birds, they will be consumed with woes, a
nd meet speedily their proper retribution. Also I estimate wisdom at so high a
price, that I should deem a small and poorly-peopled city, even though besieged
 also by a mighty king with his forces, to be indeed great and powerful, if it
had but one wise man, however poor, among its citizens. For such a man would be
 able to deliver his city both from enemies and from entrenchments. And other m
en, it may be, do not recognise that wise man,

16

poor as he is; but for my part I greatly prefer the power that resides in wisdo
m, to this might of the mere multitude of the people. Here, however, wisdom, as
 it dwells with poverty, is held in dishonour. But hereafter it shall be heard
speaking with more authoritative voice than princes and despots who seek after
things evil. For wisdom is also stronger than iron; while the folly of one indi
vidual works danger for many, even though he be an object of contempt to many.(
1)

CHAP. X.

    Moreover, flies falling into myrrh, and suffocated therein, make both the a
ppearance of that pleasant ointment and the anointing therewith an unseemly thi
ng;(2) and to be mindful of wisdom and of folly together is in no way proper. T
he wise man, indeed, is his own leader to right actions; but the fool inclines
to erring courses, and will never make his folly available as a guide to what i
s noble. Yea, his thoughts also are vain and full of folly. But if ever a hosti
le spirit fall upon thee, my friend, withstand it courageously, knowing that Go
d is able to propitiate(3) even a mighty multitude of offences. These also are
the deeds of the prince and father of all wickedness: that the fool is set on h
igh, while the man richly gifted with wisdom is humbled; and that the slaves of
 sin are seen riding on horseback, while men dedicated to God walk on foot in d
ishonour, the wicked exulting the while. But if any one devises another's hurt,
 he forgets that he is preparing a snare for himself first and alone. And he wh
o wrecks another's safety, shall fall by the bite of a serpent. But he who remo
veth stones, indeed shall undergo no light labour;(4) and be who cleaveth wood
shall bear danger with him in his own weapon. And if it chance that the axe spr
ing out of the handle,(5) he who engages in such work shall be put to trouble,
gathering for no good(6) and having to put to more of his iniquitous and shortl
ived strength.(7) The bite of a serpent, again, is stealthy; and the charmers w
ill not soothe the pain, for they are vain. But the good man doeth good works f
or himself and for his neighbours alike; while the fool shall sink into destruc
tion through his folly. And when he has once opened his mouth, he begins foolis
hly and soon comes to an end, exhibiting his senselessness in all. Moreover, it
 is impossible for man to know anything, or to learn from man either what has b
een from the beginning, or what shall be in the future. For who shall be the de
clarer thereof? Besides, the man who knows not to go to the good city, sustains
 evil in the eyes and in the whole countenance. And I prophesy woes to that cit
y the king of which is a youth, and its rulers gluttons. But I call the good la
nd blessed, the king of which is the son of the free: there those who are entru
sted with the power of ruling shall reap what is good in due season. But the sl
uggard and the idler become scoffers, and make the house decay; and misusing al
l things for the purposes of their own gluttony, like the ready slaves of money
,(8) for a small price they are content to do all that is base and abject. It i
s also right to obey kings and rulers or potentates, and not to be bitter again
st them, nor to utter any offensive word against them. For there is ever the ri
sk that what has been spoken in secret may somehow become public. For swift and
 winged messengers convey all things to Him who alone is King both rich and mig
hty, discharging therein a service which is at once spiritual and reasonable.
CHAP. XI.

    Moreover, it is a righteous thing to give (to the needy) of thy bread, and
of those things which are necessary for the support of man's life. For though t
hou seemest forthwith to waste it upon some persons, as if thou didst cast thy
bread upon the water, yet in the progress of time thy kindness shall be seen to
 be not unprofitable for thee. Also give liberally, and give a portion of thy m
eans to many; for thou knowest not what the coming day doeth. The clouds, again
, do not keep back their plenteous rains, but discharge their showers upon the
earth. Nor does a tree stand for ever; but even though men may spare it, it sha
ll be overturned by the wind at any rate. But many desire also to know beforeha
nd what is to come from the heavens; and there have been those who, scrutinizin
g the clouds and waiting for the wind, have had nought to do with reaping and w
innowing, putting their trust in vanity, and being all incapable of knowing aug
ht of what may come from God in the future; just as men cannot tell what the wo
man with child shall bring forth. But sow thou in season, and thus reap thy fru
its whenever the time for that comes on. For it is not manifest what shall be b
etter than those among all natural things.(9) Would, indeed, that all things tu
rned out well! Truly, when a man considers with himself that the sun is good, a
nd that this life is sweet, and that it is a pleasant thing to have many years
wherein one can delight himself

17

continually, and that death is a terror and an endless evil, and a thing that b
rings us to nought, he thinks that he ought to enjoy himself in all the present
 and apparent pleasures of life. And he gives this counsel also to the young, t
hat they should use to the uttermost(1) the season of their youth, by giving up
 their minds to all manner of pleasure, and indulge their passions, and do all
that seemeth good in their own eyes, and look upon that which delighteth, and a
vert themselves from that which is not so. But to such a man I shall say this m
uch: Senseless art thou, my friend, in that thou dost not look for the judgment
 that shall come from God upon all these things. And profligacy and licentiousn
ess are evil, and the filthy wantonness of our bodies carries death in it. For
folly attends on youth, and folly leads to destruction.

CHAP. XII.

    Moreover, it is fight that thou shouldest fear God while thou art yet young
, before thou givest thyself over to evil things, and before the great and terr
ible day of God cometh, when the sun shall no longer shine, neither the moon, n
or the rest of the stars, but when in that storm and commotion of all things, t
he powers above shall be moved, that is, the angels who guard the world; so tha
t the mighty men shall fail, and the women shall cease their labours, and shall
 flee into the dark places of their dwellings, and shall have all the doors shu
t. And a woman shall be restrained from grinding by fear, and shall speak with
the weakest voice, like the tiniest bird; and all the impure women shall sink i
nto the earth; and cities and their blood-stained governments shall wait for th
e vengeance that comes from above, while the most bitter and bloody of all time
s hangs over them like a blossoming almond, and continuous punishments impend l
ike a multitude of flying locusts, and the transgressors are cast out of the wa
y like a black and despicable caper-plant. And the good man shall depart with r
ejoicing to his own everlasting habitation; but the vile shall fill all their p
laces with wailing, and neither silver laid up in store, nor proved gold, shall
 be of use any more. For a mighty stroke(2) shall fall upon all things, even to
 the pitcher that standeth by the well, and the wheel of the vessel which may c
hance to have been left in the hollow, when the course of time comes to its end
(3) and the ablution-bearing period of a life that is like water has passed awa
y.(4) And for men who lie on earth there is but one salvation, that their souls
 acknowledge and wing their way to Him by whom they have been made. I say, then
, again what I have said already, that man's estate is altogether vain, and tha
t nothing can exceed the utter vanity which attaches to the objects of man's in
ventions. And superfluous is my labour in preaching discreetly, inasmuch as I a
m attempting to instruct a people here, so indisposed to receive either teachin
g or healing. And truly the noble man is needed for the understanding of the wo
rds of wisdom. Moreover, I, though already aged, and having passed a long life,
 laboured to find out those things which are well-pleasing to God, by means of
the mysteries of the truth. And I know that the mind is no less quickened and s
timulated by the precepts of the wise, than the body is wont to be when the goa
d is applied, or a nail is fastened in it.(5) And some will render again those
wise lessons which they have received from one good pastor and teacher, as if a
ll with one mouth and in mutual concord set forth in larger detail the truths c
ommitted to them. But in many words there is no profit. Neither do I counsel th
ee, my friend, to write down vain things about what is fitting,(6) from which t
here in nothing to be gained but weary labour. But, in fine, I shall require to
 use some such conclusion as this: O men, behold, I charge you now expressly an
d shortly, that ye fear God, who is at once the Lord and the Overseer(7) of all
, and that ye keep also His commandments; and that ye believe that all shall be
 judged severally in the future, and that every man shall receive the just reco
mpense for his deeds, whether they be good or whether they be evil.(8)

18

CANONICAL EPISTLE.(1)

CANON I.

    THE meats are no burden to us, most holy father,(2) if the captives ate thi
ngs which their conquerors set before them, especially since there is one repor
t from all, viz., that the barbarians who have made inroads into our parts have
 not sacrificed to idols. For the apostle says, "Meats for the belly, and the b
elly for meats: but God shall destroy both it and them."(3) But the Saviour als
o, who cleanseth all meats, says, "Not that which goeth into a man defileth the
 man, but that which cometh out."(4) And this meets the case of the captive wom
en defiled by the barbarians, who outraged their bodies. But if the previous li
fe of any such person convicted him of going, as it is written, after the eyes
of fornicators, the habit of fornication evidently becomes an object of suspici
on also in the time of captivity. And one ought not readily to have communion w
ith such women in prayers. If any one, however, has lived in the utmost chastit
y, and has shown in time past a manner of life pure and free from all suspicion
, and now falls into wantonness through force of necessity, we have an example
for our guidance,--namely, the instance of the damsel in Deuteronomy, whom a ma
n finds in the field, and forces her and lies with her. "Unto the damsel," he s
ays, "ye shall do nothing; there is in the damsel no sin worthy of death: for a
s when a man riseth against his neighbour, and slayeth him, even so is this mat
ter: the damsel cried, and there was none to help her."(5)

CANON II.

    Covetousness is a great evil; and it is not possible in a single letter to
set forth those scriptures in which not robbery alone is declared to be a thing
 horrible and to be abhorred, but in general the grasping mind, and the disposi
tion to meddle with what belongs to others, in order to satisfy the sordid love
 of gain. And all persons of that spirit are excommunicated from the Church of
God. But that at the time of the irruption, in the midst of such woful sorrows
and bitter lamentations, some should have been audacious enough to consider the
 crisis which brought destruction to all the very period for their own private
aggrandizement, that is a thing which can be averred only of men who are impiou
s and hated of God, and of unsurpassable iniquity. Wherefore it seemed good to
excommunicate such persons, lest the wrath (of God) should come upon the whole
people, and upon those first of all who are set over them in office, and yet fa
il to make inquiry. For I am afraid, as the Scripture says, lest the impious wo
rk the destruction of the righteous along with his own.(6) "For fornication," i
t says,(7) "and covetousness are things on account of which the wrath of God co
meth upon the children of disobedience. Be not ye therefore partakers with them
. For ye were sometimes darkness, but now are ye light in the Lord: walk as chi
ldren of light (for the fruit of the light(8) is in all goodness, and righteous
ness, and truth), proving what is acceptable unto the Lord. And have no fellows
hip with the unfruitful works of darkness, but rather reprove them; for it is a
 shame even to speak of those things which are done of them in secret. But all
things that are reproved are made manifest by the light." In this wise speaks t
he apostle. But if certain parties who pay the proper penalty for that former c
ovetousness of theirs, which exhibited itself in the time of peace, now turn as
ide again to the indulgence of covetousness in the very time of trouble (i.e.,
in the troubles of the inroads by the barbarians), and make gain out of the blo
od and ruin of men who have been utterly despoiled, or taken captive, (or) put
to death, what else ought to be expected, than that those who struggle so hotly
 for covetousness should heap up wrath both for themselves and for the Whole pe
ople?

19

CANON III.

    Behold, did not Achar(1) the son of Zata transgress in the accursed thing,
and trouble then lighted on all the congregation of Israel? And this one man wa
s alone in his sin; but he was not alone in the death that came by his sin. And
 by us, too, everything of a gainful kind at this time, which is ours not in ou
r own rightful possession, but as property strictly belonging to others, ought
to be reckoned a thing devoted. For that Achar indeed took of the spoil; and th
ose men of the present time take also of the spoil. But he took what belonged t
o enemies; whine these now take what belongs to brethren, and aggrandize themse
lves with fatal gains.

CANON IV.

    Let no one deceive himself, nor put forward the pretext of having found suc
h property. For it is not lawful, even for a man who has found anything, to agg
randize himself by it. For Deuteronomy says: "Thou shalt not see thy brother's
ox or his sheep go astray in the way, and pay no heed to them; but thou shalt i
n any wise bring them again unto thy brother. And if thy brother come not nigh
thee, or if thou know him not, then thou shalt bring them together, and they sh
all be with thee until thy brother seek after them, and thou shalt restore them
 to him again. And in like manner shalt thou do with his ass, and so shalt thou
 do with his raiment, and so shalt thou do with all lost things of thy brother'
s, which he hath lost, and thou mayest find."(2) Thus much in Deuteronomy. And
in the book of Exodus it is said, with reference not only to the case of findin
g what is a friend's, but also of finding what is an enemy's: "Thou shalt surel
y bring them back to the house of their master again."(3) And if it is not lawf
ul to aggrandize oneself at the expense of another, whether he be brother or en
emy, even in the time of peace, when he is living at his ease and delicately, a
nd without concern as to his property, how much more must it be the case when o
ne is met by adversity, and is fleeing from his enemies, and has had to abandon
 his possessions by force of circumstances!

CANON V.

    But others deceive themselves by fancying that they can retain the property
 of others which they may have found as an equivalent for their own property wh
ich they have lost. In this way verily, just as the Boradi and Goths brought th
e havoc of war on them, they make themselves Boradi and Goths to others. Accord
ingly we have sent to you our brother and comrade in old age, Euphrosynus, with
 this view, that he may deal with you in accordance with our model here, and te
ach you against whom you ought to admit accusations,(4) and whom you ought to e
xclude from your prayers.

CANON VI.(5)

    Moreover, it has been reported to us that a thing has happened in your coun
try which is surely incredible, and which, if done at all, is altogether the wo
rk of unbelievers, and impious men, and men who know not the very name of the L
ord; to wit, that some have gone to such a pitch of cruelty and inhumanity, as
to be detaining by force certain captives who have made their escape. Dispatch
ye commissioners into the country, lest the thunderbolts of heaven fall all too
 surely upon those who perpetrate such deeds.

CANON VII.(6)

    Now, as regards those who have been enrolled among the barbarians, and have
 accompanied them in their irruption in a state of captivity, and who, forgetti
ng that they were from Pontus, and Christians, have become such thorough barbar
ians, as even to put those of their own race to death by the gibbet(7) or stran
gulation, and to show their roads or houses to the barbarians, who else would h
ave been ignorant of them, it is necessary for you to debar such persons even f
rom being auditors in the public congregations,(8) until some common decision a
bout them is come to by the saints assembled in council, and by the Holy Spirit
 antecedently to them.

CANON VIII.(9)

    Now those who have been so audacious as to invade the houses of others, if
they have once been put on their trial and convicted, ought not to be deemed fi
t even to be hearers in the public congregation. But if they have declared them
selves and made restitution, they should be placed in the rank of the repentant
.(10)

CANON IX.(11)

    Now, those who have found in the open field or in their own houses anything
 left behind them by the barbarians, if they have once been put on their trial
and convicted, ought to fall under the same class of the repentant. But if they

20

have declared themselves and made restitution, they ought to be deemed fit for
the privilege of prayer.(1)

CANON X.

    And they who keep the commandment ought to keep it without any sordid covet
ousness, demanding neither recompense,(2) nor reward,(3) nor fee,(4) nor anythi
ng else that bears the name of acknowledgment.

CANON XI.(5)

    Weeping(6) takes place without the gate of the oratory; and the offender st
anding there ought to implore the faithful as they enter to offer up prayer on
his behalf. Waiting on the word,(7) again, takes place within the gate in the p
orch,(8) where the offender ought to stand until the catechumens depart, and th
ereafter he should go forth. For let him hear the Scriptures and doctrine, it i
s said, and then be put forth, and reckoned unfit for the privilege of prayer.
Submission,(9) again, is that one stand within the gate of the temple, and go f
orth along with the catechumens. Restoration(10) is that one be associated with
 the faithful, and go not forth with the catechumens; and last of all comes the
 participation in the holy ordinances.(11)

ELUCIDATIONS.

I

(The title, p. 18.)
    THIS is a genuine epistle, all but the eleventh canon. It is addressed to a
n anonymous bishop; one of his suffragans, some think. I suppose, rather, he co
nsults, as Cyprian did, the bishop of the nearest Apostolic See, and awaits his
 concurrence. It refers to the ravages of the Goths in the days of Gallienus (A
.D. 259-267), and proves the care of the Church to maintain discipline, even in
 times most unfavourable to order and piety. The last canon is an explanatory a
ddition made to elucidate the four degrees or classes of penitents. It is a ver
y interesting document in this respect, and sheds light on the famous canonical
 epistles of St. Basil.

II.

(Basil the Great, p. 18, note.)
    The "Canonical Epistles" of St. Basil are not private letters, but canons o
f the churches with which he was nearest related. When there was no art of prin
ting, the chief bishops were obliged to communicate with suffragans, and with t
heir brethren in the Apostolic See nearest to them. See them expounded at large
 in Dupin, Ecclesiastical Writers of the Fourth Century, Works, vol. i., London
, 1693 (translated), p. 139, etc.

III.

(Most holy father, p. 18.)
    This expression leads me to think that this epistle is addressed to the Bis
hop of Antioch or of some other Apostolic See. It must not be taken as a prescr
ibed formula, however, as when we say "Most Reverend" in our days; e.g., addres
sing the Archbishop of Canterbury. Rather, it is an expression of personal reve
rence. As yet, titular distinctions, such as these, were not known. In the West
 existing usages seem to have been introduced with the Carlovingian system of d
ignities, expounded by Gibbon.

21

THE ORATION AND PANEGYRIC ADDRESSED
TO ORIGEN.[1]

ARGUMENT I.--FOR EIGHT YEARS GREGORY HAS GIVEN UP THE PRACTICE OF ORATORY, BEIN
G BUSIED WITH THE STUDY CHIEFLY OF ROMAN LAW AND THE LATIN LANGUAGE.

    AN excellent[2] thing has silence proved itself in many another person on m
any an occasion, and at present it befits myself, too, most especially, who wit
h or without purpose may keep the door of my lips, and feel constrained to be s
ilent. For I am unpractised and unskilled[3] in those beautiful and elegant add
resses which are spoken or composed in a regular and unbroken[4] train, in sele
ct and well-chosen phrases and words; and it may be that I am less apt by natur
e to cultivate successfully this graceful and truly Grecian art. Besides, it is
 now eight years since I chanced myself to utter or compose any speech, whether
 long or short; neither in that period have I heard any other compose or utter
anything in private, or deliver in public any laudatory or controversial oratio
ns, with the exception of those admirable men who have embraced the noble study
 of philosophy, and who care less for beauty of language and elegance of expres
sion. For, attaching only a secondary importance to the words, they aim, with a
ll exactness, at investigating and making known the things themselves, precisel
y as they are severally constituted. Not indeed, in my opinion, that they: do n
ot desire, but rather that they do greatly desire, to clothe the noble and accu
rate results of their thinking in noble and comely[5] language. Yet it may be t
hat they are not able so lightly to put forth this sacred and godlike power (fa
culty) in the exercise of its own proper conceptions, and at the same time to p
ractise a mode of discourse eloquent in its terms, and thus to comprehend in on
e and the same mind--and that, too, this little mind of man--two accomplishment
s, which are the gifts of two distinct persons, and which are, in truth, most c
ontrary to each other. For silence is indeed the friend and helpmeet of thought
 and invention. But if one aims at readiness of speech and beauty of discourse,
 he will get at them by no other discipline than the study of words, and their
constant practice. Moreover, another branch of learning occupies my mind comple
tely, and the mouth binds the tongue if I should desire to make any speech, how
ever brief, with the voice of the Greeks; I refer to those admirable laws of ou
r sages[6] by which the affairs of all the subjects of the Roman Empire are now
 directed, and which are neither composed[7] nor learnt without difficulty. And
 these are wise and exact[8] in themselves, and manifold and admirable, and, in
 a word, most thoroughly Grecian; and they are expressed and committed to us in
 the Roman tongue, which is a wonderful and magnificent sort of language, and o
ne very aptly conformable to royal authority,[9] but still difficult to me. Nor
 could it be otherwise with me, even though I might say that it was my desire t
hat it should be.[10] And as our words are nothing else than a kind of imagery
of the dispositions of our mind, we should allow those who have the gift of spe
ech, like some good artists alike skilled to the utmost in their art and libera
lly furnished in the matter of colours, to possess the liberty of painting thei
r word-pictures, not simply of a uniform complexion, but also of various descri
ptions and of richest beauty in the abundant mixture of flowers, without let or
 hindrance.

22

ARGUMENT II.--HE ESSAYS TO SPEAK OF THE WELL-NIGH DIVINE ENDOWMENTS OF ORIGEN I
N HIS PRESENCE, INTO WHOSE HANDS HE AVOWS HIMSELF TO HAVE BEEN LED IN A WAY BEY
OND ALL HIS EXPECTATION.

    But we, like any of the poor, unfurnished with these varied specifics[1]--w
hether as never having been possessed of them, or, it may be, as having lost th
em--are under the necessity of using, as it were, only charcoal and tiles, that
 is to say, those rude and common words and phrases; and by means of these, to
the best of our ability, we represent the native dispositions of our mind, expr
essing them in such language as is at our service, and endeavouring to exhibit
the impressions of the figures[2] of our mind, if not clearly or ornately, yet
at least with the faithfulness of a charcoal picture, welcoming gladly any grac
eful and eloquent expression which may present itself from any quarter, althoug
h we make little of such.[3] But, furthermore,[4] there is a third circumstance
 which hinders and dissuades me from this attempt, and which holds me back much
 more even than the others, and recommends me to keep silence by all means,--I
allude to the subject itself, which made me indeed ambitious to speak of it, bu
t which now makes me draw balk and delay. For it is my purpose to speak of one
who has indeed the semblance and repute of being a man, but who seems, to those
 who are able to contemplate the greatness of his intellectual calibre,[5] to b
e endowed with powers nobler and well-nigh divine.[6] And it is not his birth o
r bodily training that I am about to praise, and that makes me now delay and pr
ocrastinate with an excess of caution. Nor, again, is it his strength or beauty
; for these form the eulogies of youths, of which it matters little whether the
 utterance be worthy or not.[7] For, to make an oration on matters of a tempora
ry and fugitive nature, which perish in many various ways and quickly, and to d
iscourse of these with all the grandeur and dignity of great affairs, and with
such timorous delays, would seem a vain and futile procedure.[8] Anti certainly
, if it had been proposed to me to speak of any of those things which are usele
ss and unsubstantial, and such as I should never voluntarily have thought of sp
eaking of,--if, I say, it had been proposed to me to speak of anything of that
character, my speech would have had none of this caution or fear, lest in any s
tatement I might seem to come beneath the merit of the subject. But now, my sub
ject dealing with that which is most godlike in the man, and that in him which
has most affinity with God, that which is indeed confined within the limits of
this visible and mortal form, but which strains nevertheless most ardently afte
r the likeness of God; and my object being to make mention of this, and to put
my hand to weightier matters, and therein also to express my thanksgivings to t
he Godhead, in that it has been granted to me to meet with such a man beyond th
e expectation of men,--the expectation, verily, not only of others, but also of
 my own heart, for I neither set such a privilege before me at any time, nor ho
ped for it; it being, I say, my object, insignificant and altogether without un
derstanding as I am, to put my hand to such subjects, it is not without reason[
9] that I shrink from the task, and hesitate, and desire to keep silence. And,
in truth, to keep silence seems to the to be also the safe course, lest, with t
he show of an expression of thanksgiving, I may chance, in my rashness, to disc
ourse of noble and sacred subjects in i terms ignoble and paltry and utterly tr
ite, and thus not only miss attaining the truth, but even, so far as it depends
 on me, do it some injury with those who may believe that it stands in such a c
ategory, when a discourse which is weak is composed thereon, and is rather calc
ulated to excite ridicule than to prove itself commensurate in its vigour with
the dignity of its themes. But all that pertains to thee is beyond the touch of
 injury and ridicule, O dear soul; or, much rather let me say, that the divine
herein remains ever as it is, unmoved and harmed in nothing · by our paltry and
 unworthy words. Yet I know not how we shall escape the imputation of boldness
and rashness in thus attempting in our folly, and with little either of intelli
gence or of preparation, to handle matters which are weighty, and probably beyo
nd our capacity. And if, indeed, elsewhere and with others, we had aspired to m
ake such youthful endeavours in matters like these, we would surely have been b
old and daring; nevertheless in such a case our rashness might not have been as
cribed to shamelessness, in so far as we should not have been making the bold e
ffort with thee. But now we shall be filling out the whole measure of senseless
ness, or rather indeed we have already filled it out, in venturing with unwashe
d feet (as the saying goes) to introduce ourselves to ears into which the Divin
e Word Himself--not indeed with covered feet, as is the case with the general m
ass

23

of men, and, as it were, under the thick coverings of enigmatical and obscure[1
] sayings, but with unsandalled feet (if one may so speak)--has made His way cl
early and perspicuously, and in which He now sojourns; while we, who have but r
efuse and mud to offer in these human words of ours, have been bold enough to p
our them into ears which are practised in hearing only words that are divine an
d pure. It might indeed suffice us, therefore, to have transgressed thus far; a
nd now, at least, it might be but right to restrain ourselves, and to advance n
o further, with our discourse. And verily I would stop here most gladly. Nevert
heless, as I have once made the rash venture, it may be allowed me first of all
 to explain the reason under the force of which I have been led into this arduo
us enterprise, if indeed any pardon can be extended
to me for my forwardness in this matter.

ARGUMENT III.--HE IS STIMULATED TO SPEAK OF HIM BY THE LONGING OF A GRATEFUL MI
ND. TO THE UTMOST OF HIS ABILITY HE THINKS HE OUGHT TO THANK HIM. FROM GOD ARE
THE BEGINNINGS OF ALL BLESSINGS; AND TO HIM ADEQUATE THANKS CANNOT BE RETURNED.

    Ingratitude appears to me to be a dire evil; a dire evil indeed, yea, the d
irest of evils. For when one has received some benefit, his failing to attempt
to make any return by at least the oral expression of thanks, where aught else
is beyond his power, marks him out either as an utterly irrational person, or a
s one devoid of the sense of obligations conferred, or as a man without any mem
ory. Anti, again, though[2] one is possessed naturally and at once by the sense
 and the knowledge of benefits received, yet, unless he also carries the memory
 of these obligations to future days, and offers some evidence of gratitude to
the author of the boons, such a person is a dull, and ungrateful, and impious f
ellow; and he commits an offence which can be excused neither in the case of th
e great nor in that of the small:--if we suppose the case of a great, and high-
minded man not bearing constantly on his lips his great benefits with all grati
tude and honour, or that of a small and contemptible man not praising and laudi
ng with all his might one who has been his benefactor, not simply in great serv
ices, but also in smaller. Upon the great, therefore, and those who excel in po
wers of mind, it is incumbent, as out of their greater abundance and larger wea
lth, to render greater and worthier praise, according to their capacity, to the
ir benefactors. But the humble also, and those in narrow circumstances, it bese
ems neither to neglect those who do them service, nor to take their services ca
relessly, nor to flag in heart as if they could offer nothing worthy or perfect
; but as poor indeed, and yet as of good feeling, and as measuring not the capa
city of him whom they honour, but only their own, they ought to pay him honour
according to the present measure of their power,--a tribute which will probably
 be grateful and pleasant to him who is honoured, and in no less consideration
with him than it would have been had it been some great and splendid offering,
if it is only presented with decided earnestness, and with a sincere mind. Thus
 is it laid down in the sacred writings,[3] that a certain poor and lowly woman
, who was with the rich and powerful that were contributing largely and richly
out of their wealth, alone and by herself cast in a small, yea, the very smalle
st offering, which was, however, all the while her whole substance, and receive
d the testimony of having presented the largest oblation. For, as I judge, the
sacred word has not set up the large outward quantity of the substance given, b
ut rather the mind and disposition of the giver, as the standard by which the w
orth and the magnificence of the offering are to be measured. Wherefore it is n
ot meet even for us by any means to shrink from this duty, through the fear tha
t our thanksgivings bc not adequate to our obligations; but, on the contrary, w
e ought to venture and attempt everything, so as to offer thanksgivings, if not
 adequate, at least such as we have it in our power to exhibit, as in due retur
n. And would that our discourse, even though it comes short of the perfect meas
ure, might at least reach the mark in some degree, and be saved from all appear
ance of ingratitude! For a persistent silence, maintained under the plausible c
over of an inability to say anything worthy of the subject, is a vain and evil
thing; but it is the mark of a good disposition always to make the attempt at a
 suitable return, even although the power of the person who offers the grateful
 acknowledgment be inferior to the desert of the subject. For my part, even alt
hough I am unable to speak as the matter merits, I shall not keep silence; but
when I have done all that I possibly can, then I may congratulate myself. Be th
is, then, the method of my eucharistic discourse. To God, indeed, the God of th
e universe, I shall not think of speaking in such terms: yet is it from Him tha
t all the beginnings of our blessings come; and with Him consequently is it tha
t the beginning of our thanksgivings, or praises, or laudations, ought to be ma
de. But, in truth, not even though i were to devote myself wholly to that duty,
 and that, too, not as i now am--to

24

wit, profane and impure, and mixed up with and stained by every unhallowed[1] a
nd polluting evil--but sincere and as pure as pure may be, and most genuine, an
d most unsophisticated, and uncontaminated by anything vile;--not even, I say,
though I were thus to devote myself wholly, and with all the purity of the newl
y born, to this task, should I produce of myself any suitable gift in the way o
f honour and acknowledgment to the Ruler and Originator of all things, whom nei
ther men separately and individually, nor yet all men in concert, acting with o
ne spirit and one concordant impulse, as though all that is pure were made to m
eet in one, and all that is diverse from that were turned also to that service,
 could ever celebrate in a manner worthy of Him. For, in whatsoever measure any
 man is able to form right and adequate conceptions of His works, and (if such
a thing were possible) to speak worthily regarding Him, then, so far as that ve
ry capacity is concerned,--a capacity with which he has not been gifted by any
other one, but which he has received from Him alone, he cannot possibly find an
y greater matter of thanksgiving than what is implied in its possession.

ARGUMENT IV.--THE SON ALONE KNOWS HOW TO PRAISE THE FATHER WORTHILY. IN CHRIST
AND BY CHRIST OUR THANKSGIVING SOUGHT TO BE RENDERED TO THE FATHER. GREGORY ALS
O GIVES THANKS TO HIS GUARDIAN ANGEL, BECAUSE HE WAS CONDUCTED BY HIM TO ORIGEN
.

    But let us commit the praises and hymns in honour of the King and Superinte
ndent of all things, the perennial Fount of all blessings, to the hand of Him w
ho, in this matter as in all others, is the Healer of our infirmity, and who[ a
lone is able to supply that which is lacking; to the Champion and Saviour of ou
r souls, His first-born Word, the Maker and Ruler of all things, with whom also
 alone it is possible, both for Himself and for all, whether privately and indi
vidually, or publicly and collectively, to send up to the Father uninterrupted
and ceaseless thanksgivings. For as He is Himself the Truth, and the Wisdom, an
d the Power of the Father of the universe, and He is besides in Him, and is tru
ly and entirely made one with Him, it cannot be that, either through forgetfuln
ess or unwisdom, or any manner of infirmity, such as marks one dissociated from
 Him, He shall either fail in the power to praise Him, or, while having the pow
er, shall willingly neglect (a supposition which it is not lawful, surely, to i
ndulge) to praise the Father. For He alone is able most perfectly to fulfil the
 whole meed of honour which is proper to Him, inasmuch as the Father of all thi
ngs has made Him one with Himself, and through Him all but completes the circle
 of His own being objectively,[2] and honours Him with a power in all respects
equal to His own, even as also He is honoured; which position He first and alon
e of all creatures that exist has had assigned Him, this Only-begotten of the F
ather, who is in Him, and who is God the Word; while all others of us are able
to express our thanksgiving and our piety only if, in return for all the blessi
ngs which proceed to us from the Father, we bring our offerings in simple depen
dence on Him alone, and thus present the meet oblation of thanksgiving to Him w
ho is the Author of all things, acknowledging also that the only way of piety i
s in this manner to offer our memorials through Him. Wherefore, in acknowledgme
nt of that ceaseless providence which watches over all of us, alike in the grea
test and in the smallest concerns, and which has been sustained even thus far,
let this Word[3] be accepted as the worthy and perpetual expression for all tha
nksgivings and praises,--I mean the altogether perfect and living and verily an
imate Word of the First Mind Himself. But let this word of ours be taken primar
ily as an eucharistic address in honour of this sacred personage, who stands al
one among all men;[4] and if I may seek to discourse[5] of aught beyond this, a
nd, in particular, of any of those beings who are not seen, but yet are more go
dlike, and who have a special care for men, it shall be addressed to that being
 who, by some momentous decision, had me allotted to him froth my boyhood to ru
le, and rear, and train,--I mean that holy angel of God who fed me from my yout
h,[6] as says the saint dear to God, meaning thereby his own peculiar one. Thou
gh he, indeed, as being himself illustrious, did in these terms designate some
angel exalted enough to befit his own dignity (and whether it was some other on
e, or whether it was perchance the Angel of the Mighty Counsel Himself, the Com
mon Saviour of all, that he received as his own peculiar guardian through his p
erfection, I do not clearly know),--he, I say, did recognise and praise some su
perior angel as his own, whosoever that was. But we, in addition to the homage
we offer to the Common Ruler of all men, acknowledge and praise that being, who
soever he is, who has been the wonderful guide of our childhood, who in all oth
er matters has been in time past my beneficent tutor and guardian. For this off
ice of tutor and guardian is one which evidently can suit[7] neither

25

me nor any of my friends and kindred; for we are all blind, and see nothing of
what is before us, so as to be able to judge of what is right and fitting; but
it can suit only him who sees beforehand all that is for the good of our soul:
that angel, I say, who still at this present time sustains, and instructs, and
conducts me; and who, in addition to all these other benefits, has brought me i
nto connection with this man, which, in truth, is the most important of all the
 services done me. And this, too, he has effected for me, although between myse
lf and that man of whom I discourse there was no kinship of race or blood, nor
any other tie, nor any relationship in neighbourhood or country whatsoever; thi
ngs which are made the ground of friendship and union among the majority of men
. But to speak in brief, in the exercise of a truly divine and wise forethought
 he brought us together, who were unknown to each other, and strangers, and for
eigners, separated as thoroughly from each other as intervening nations, and mo
untains, and rivers can divide man from man, and thus he made good this meeting
 which has been full of profit to me, having, as I judge, provided beforehand t
his blessing for me from above from my very birth and earliest upbringing. And
in what manner this has been realized it would take long to recount fully, not
merely if I were to enter minutely into the whole subject, and were to attempt
to omit nothing, but even if, passing many things by, I should purpose simply t
o mention in a summary way a few of the most important points.

ARGUMENT V.--HERE GREGORY INTERWEAVES THE NARRATIVE OF HIS FORMER LIFE. HIS BIR
TH OF HEATHEN PARENTS IS STATED. IN THE FOURTEENTH YEAR OF HIS AGE HE LOSES HIS
 FATHER. HE IS DEDICATED TO THE STUDY OF ELOQUENCE AND LAW. BY A WONDERFUL LEAD
ING OF PROVIDENCE, HE IS BROUGHT TO ORIGEN.

    For my earliest upbringing from the time of my birth onwards was under the
hand of my parents; and the manner of life in my father's house was one of erro
r,[1] and of a kind from which no one, I imagine, expected that we should be de
livered; nor had I myself the hope, boy as I was, and without understanding, an
d trader a superstitious father.[2] Then followed the loss of my father, and my
 orphanhood, which[3] perchance was also the beginning of the knowledge of the
truth to me. For then it was that I was brought over first to the word of salva
tion and truth, in what manner I cannot tell, by constraint rather than by volu
ntary choice. For what power of decision had I then, who was but fourteen years
 of age? Yet from this very time this sacred Word began somehow to visit me, ju
st at the period when the reason common to all men attained its full function i
n me; yea, then for the first time did it visit me. And though I thought but li
ttle of this in that olden time, yet now at least, as I ponder it, I consider t
hat no small token of the holy and marvellous providence exercised over me is d
iscernible in this concurrence, which was I so distinctly marked in the matter
of my years, and which provided that all those deeds of error which preceded th
at age might be ascribed to youth and want of understanding, and that the Holy
Word might not be imparted vainly to a soul yet ungifted with the full power of
 reason; and which secured at the same time that when the soul now became endow
ed with that power, though not gifted with the divine and pure reason,[4] it mi
ght not be devoid at least of that fear which is accordant with this reason, bu
t that the human and the divine reason[5] might begin to act in me at once and
together,--the one giving help with a power to me at least inexplicable,[6] tho
ugh proper to itself, and the other receiving help. And when I reflect on this,
 I am filled at once with gladness and with terror, while I rejoice indeed in t
he leading of providence, and yet am also awed by the fear lest, after being pr
ivileged with such blessings, I should still in any way fail of the end. But in
deed I know not how my discourse has dwelt so long on this matter, desirous as
I am to give an account of the wonderful arrangement (of God's providence) in t
he course that brought the to this man, and anxious as nevertheless I formerly
was to pass with few words to the matters which follow in their order, not cert
ainly imagining that I could render to him who thus dealt with me that tribute
of praise, or gratitude, or piety which is due to him (for, were we to designat
e our discourse in such terms, while yet we said nothing worthy of the theme, w
e might seem chargeable with arrogance), but simply with the view of offering w
hat may be called a plain narrative or confession, or whatever other humble tit
le may be given it. It seemed good to the only one of my parents who survived t
o care for me--my mother, namely--that, being already under instruction in thos
e other branches in which boys not ignobly born and nurtured are usually traine
d, I should attend also a teacher of public speaking, in the hope that I too sh
ould become a public speaker. And accordingly I did attend such a teacher; and
those who could judge in that department then declared that I should in a short
 period be a public speaker. I for my own part know not how to pronounce on tha
t, neither

26

should I desire to do so; for there was no apparent ground for that gift then,
nor was there as yet any foundation for those forces[1] which were capable of b
ringing me to it. But that divine conductor and true curator, ever so watchful,
 when my friends were not thinking of such a step, and when I was not myself de
sirous of it, came and suggested (an extension of my studies) to one of my teac
hers under whose charge I had been put, with a view to instruction in the Roman
 tongue, not in the expectation that I was to reach the completest mastery of t
hat tongue, but only that I might not be absolutely ignorant of it; and this pe
rson happened also to be not altogether unversed in laws. Putting the idea, the
refore, into this teacher's mind,[2] he set me to learn in a thorough way the l
aws of the Romans by his help. And that man took up this charge zealously with
me; and I, on my side, gave myself to it--more, however, to gratify the man, th
an as being myself an admirer of the study. And when he got me as his pupil, he
 began to teach me with all enthusiasm. And he said one thing, which has proved
 to me the truest of all his sayings, to wit, that my education in the laws wou
ld be my greatest viaticum[3]--for thus he phrased it--whether I aspired to be
one of the public speakers who contend in the courts of justice, or preferred t
o belong to a different order. Thus did he express himself, intending his word
to bear simply on things human; but to me it seems that he was moved to that ut
terance by a diviner impulse than he himself supposed. For when, willingly or u
nwillingly, I was becoming well instructed in these laws, at once bonds, as it
were, were cast upon my movements, and cause and occasion for my journeying to
these parts arose from the city Berytus, which is a city not far distant[4] fro
m this territory, somewhat Latinized,[5] and credited with being a school for t
hese legal studies. And this revered man coming from Egypt, from the city of Al
exandria, where previously he happened to have his home, was moved by other cir
cumstances to change his residence to this place, as if with the express object
 of meeting us. And for my part, I cannot explain the reasons of these incident
s, and I shall willingly pass them by. This however is certain, that as yet no
necessary occasion for my coming to this place and meeting with this man was af
forded by my purpose to learn our laws, since I had it in my power also to repa
ir to the city of Rome itself.[6] How, then, was this effected? The then govern
or of Palestine suddenly took possession of a friend of mine, namely my sister'
s husband, and separated him from his wife, and carried him off here against hi
s will, in order to secure his help, and have him associated with him in the la
bours of the government of the country; for he was a person skilled in law, and
 perhaps is still so employed. After he had gone with him, however, he had the
good fortune in no long time to have his wife sent for, and to receive her agai
n, from whom, against his will, and to his grievance, he had been separated. An
d thus he chanced also to draw us along with her to that same place. For when w
e were minded to travel, I know not where, but certainly to any other place rat
her than this, a soldier suddenly came upon the scene, bearing a letter of inst
ructions for us to escort and protect our sister in her restoration to her husb
and, and to offer ourselves also as companion to her on the journey; in which w
e had the opportunity of doing a favour to our relative, and most of all to our
 sister (so that she might not have to address herself to the journey either in
 any unbecoming manner, or with any great fear or hesitation), while at the sam
e tithe our other friends and connections thought well of it, and made it out t
o promise no slight advantage, as we could thus visit the city of Berytus, and
carry out there with all diligence[7] our studies in the laws. Thus all things
moved me thither,--my sense of duty[8] to my sister, my own studies, and over a
nd above these, the soldier (for it is right also to mention this), who had wit
h him a larger supply of public vehicles than the case demanded, and more chequ
es[9] than could be required for our sister alone. These were the apparent reas
ons for our journey; but the secret and yet truer reasons were these,--our oppo
rtunity of fellowship with this man our instruction through that man's means[10
] the truth[11] concerning the Word, and the profit of our soul for its salvati
on. These were the real causes that brought us here, blind and ignorant, as we
were, as to the way of securing our salvation. Wherefore it was not that soldie
r, but a certain divine companion and beneficent conductor and guardian, ever l
eading us in safety through the whole of this present life, as through a long j
ourney, that carried us past other places, and Berytus in especial, which city
at that time we seemed most bent on reaching,

27

and brought us hither and settled us here, disposing and directing all things,
until by any means he might bind us in a connection with this man who was to be
 the author of the greater part of our blessings. And he who came in such wise,
 that divine angel, gave over this charge[1] to him, and did, if I may so speak
, perchance take his rest here, not indeed under the pressure of labour or exha
ustion of any kind (for the generation of those divine ministers knows no weari
ness), but as having committed us to the hand of a man who would fully discharg
e the whole work of care and guardianship within his power.

ARGUMENT VI.--THE ARTS BY WHICH ORIGEN STUDIES TO KEEP GREGORY AND HIS BROTHER
ATHENODORUS WITH HIM, ALTHOUGH IT WAS ALMOST AGAINST THEIR WILL; AND THE LOVE B
Y WHICH BOTH ARE TAKEN CAPTIVE. OF PHILOSOPHY, THE FOUNDATION OF PIETY, WITH TH
E VIEW OF GIVING HIMSELF THEREFORE WHOLLY TO THAT STUDY, GREGORY IS WILLING TO
GIVE UP FATHERLAND, PARENTS, THE PURSUIT OF LAW, AND EVERY OTHER DISCIPLINE. OF
 THE SOUL AS THE FREE PRINCIPLE. THE NOBLER PART DOES NOT DESIRE TO BE UNITED W
ITH TIlE INFERIOR, BUT THE INFERIOR WITH THE NOBLER.

    And from the very first day of his receiving us (which day was, in truth, t
he first day to me, and the most precious of all days, if I may so speak, since
 then for the first time the true Sun began to rise upon me), while we, like so
me wild creatures of the fields, or like fish, or some sort of birds that had f
allen into the toils or nets, and were endeavouring to slip out again and escap
e, were bent on leaving him, and making off for Berytus[2] or our native countr
y, he studied by all means to associate us closely with him, contriving all kin
ds of arguments, and putting every rope in motion (as the proverb goes), and br
inging all his powers to bear on that object. With that intent he lauded the lo
vers of philosophy with large laudations anti many noble utterances, declaring
that those only live a life truly worthy of reasonable creatures who aim all li
ving an upright life and who seek to know first of all themselves, what manner
of persons they are, and then the things that are truly good, which man ought t
o strive after, and then the things that are really evil, from which man ought
to flee. And then he reprehended ignorance and all the ignorant: and there are
many such, who, like brute cattle,[3] are blind in mind, and have no understand
ing even of what they are, and are as far astray as though they were wholly voi
d of reason, and neither know themselves what is good and what is evil, nor car
e at all to learn it from others, but toil feverishly in quest of wealth, and g
lory, and such honours as belong to the crowd, and bodily comforts, and go dist
raught about things like these, as if they were the real good. And as though su
ch objects were worth much, yea, worth all else, they prize the things themselv
es, and the arts by which they can acquire them, and the different lines of lif
e which give scope for their attainment,--the military profession, to wit, and
the juridical, and the study of the laws. And with earnest and sagacious words
he told us that these are the objects that enervate us, when we despise that re
ason which ought to be the true master within us.[4] I cannot recount at presen
t all the addresses of this kind which he delivered to us, with the view of per
suading us to take up the pursuit of philosophy. Nor was it only for a single d
ay that he thus dealt with us, but for many days and, in fact, as often as we w
ere in the habit of going to him at the outset; and we were pierced by his argu
mentation as with an arrow from the very first occasion of our hearing him[5] (
for he was possessed of a rare combination of a certain sweet grace and persuas
iveness, along with a strange power of constraint), though we still wavered and
 debated the matter undecidedly with ourselves, holding so far by the pursuit o
f philosophy, without however being brought thoroughly over to it, while someho
w or other we found ourselves quite unable to withdraw from it conclusively, an
d thus were always drawn towards him by the power of his reasonings, as by the
force of some superior necessity. For he asserted further that there could be n
o genuine piety towards the Lord of all in the man who despised this gift of ph
ilosophy,--a gift which man alone of all the creatures of the earth has been de
emed honourable and worthy enough to possess, and one which every man whatsoeve
r, be he wise or be he ignorant, reasonably embraces, who has not utterly lost
the power of thought by some mad distraction of mind. He asserted, then, as I h
ave said, that it was not possible (to speak correctly) for any one to be truly
 pious who did not philosophize. And thus he continued to do with us, until, by
 pouring in upon us many such argumentations, one after the other, he at last c
arried us fairly off somehow or other by a kind of divine power, like people wi
th his reasonings, and established us (in the practice of philosophy), and set
us down without the power of movement, as it were, beside

28

himself by his arts. Moreover, the stimulus of friendship was also brought to b
ear upon us,--a stimulus, indeed, not easily withstood, but keen and most effec
tive,--the argument of a kind and affectionate disposition, which showed itself
 benignantly in his words when he spoke to us and associated with us. For he di
d not aim merely at getting round us by any kind of reasoning; but his desire w
as, with a benignant, and affectionate, and most benevolent mind, to save us, a
nd make us partakers in the blessings that flow from philosophy, and most espec
ially also in those other gifts which the Deity has bestowed on him above most
men, or, as we may perhaps say, above all men of our own time. I mean the power
 that teaches us piety, the word of salvation, that comes to many, and subdues
to itself all whom it visits: for there is nothing that shall resist it, inasmu
ch as it is and shall be itself the king of all; although as yet it is hidden,
and is not recognised, whether with ease or with difficulty, by the common crow
d, in such wise that, when interrogated respecting it, they should be able to s
peak intelligently about it. And thus, like some spark lighting upon our inmost
 soul, love was kindled and burst into flame within us,--a love at once to the
Holy Word, the most lovely object of all, who attracts all irresistibly toward
Himself by His unutterable beauty, and to this man, His friend and advocate. An
d being most mightily smitten by this love, I was persuaded to give up all thos
e objects or pursuits which seem to us befitting, and among others even my boas
ted jurisprudence,--yea, my very fatherland and friends, both those who were pr
esent with me then, and those from whom I had parted. And in my estimation ther
e arose but one object dear and worth desire,--to wit, philosophy, and that mas
ter of philosophy, this inspired man. "And the soul of Jonathan was knit with D
avid."[1] This word, indeed, I did not read till afterwards in the sacred Scrip
tures ; but I felt it before that time, not less clearly than it is written: fo
r, in truth, it reached me then by the clearest of all revelations. For it was
not simply Jonathan that was knit with David; but those things were knit togeth
er which are the ruling powers in man--their souls,--those objects which, even
though all the things which are apparent and ostensible in man are severed, can
not by any skill be forced to a severance when they themselves are unwilling. F
or the soul is free, and cannot be coerced by any means, not even though one sh
ould confine it and keep guard over it in some secret prison-house. For whereve
r the intelligence is, there it is also of its own nature and by the first reas
on. And if it seems to you to be in a kind of prison-house, it is represented a
s there to you by a sort of second reason. But for all that, it is by no means
precluded from subsisting anywhere according to its own determination; nay, rat
her it is both able to be, and is reasonably believed to be, there alone and al
together, wheresoever and in connection with what things soever those actions w
hich are proper only to it are in operation. Wherefore, what I experienced has
been most clearly declared in this very short statement, that "the soul of Jona
than was knit with the soul of David;" objects which, as I said, cannot by any
means be forced to a separation against their will, and which of their own incl
ination certainly will not readily choose it. Nor is it, in my opinion, in the
inferior subject, who is changeful and very prone to vary in purpose, and in wh
om singly there has been no capacity of union at first, that the power of loosi
ng the sacred bonds of this affection rests, but rather in the nobler one, who
is constant and not readily shaken, and through whom it has been possible to th
e these bonds and to fasten this sacred knot. Therefore it is not the soul of D
avid that was knit by the divine word with the soul of Jonathan; but, on the co
ntrary, the soul of the latter, who was the inferior, is said to be thus affect
ed and knit with the soul of David. For the nobler object would not choose to b
e knit with one inferior, inasmuch as it is sufficient for itself; but the infe
rior object, as standing in need of the help which the nobler can give, ought p
roperly to be knit with the nobler, and fitted dependently to it: so that this
latter, retaining still its sufficiency in itself, might sustain no loss by its
 connection with the inferior; and that that which is of itself without order[2
] being now united and fitted harmoniously with the nobler, might, without any
detriment done, be perfectly subdued to the nobler by the constraints of such b
onds. Wherefore, to apply the bonds is the part of the superior, and not of the
 inferior; but to be knit to the other is the part of the inferior, and this to
o in such a manner that it shall possess no power of loosing itself from these
bonds. And by a similar constraint, then, did this David of ours once gird us t
o himself; and he holds us now, and has held us ever since that time, so that,
even though we desired it, we could not loose ourselves from his bonds. And hen
ce it follows that, even though we were to depart, he would not release this so
ul of mine, which, as the Holy Scripture puts it, he holds knit so closely with
 himself.

ARGUMENT VII.--THE WONDERFUL SKILL WITH WHICH ORIGEN PREPARES GREGORY AND ATHEN
ODORUS FOR PHILOSOPHY. THE INTELLECT OF

29

EACH IS EXERCISED FIRST IN LOGIC, AND THE MERE ATTENTION TO WORDS IS CONTEMNED.

    But after he had thus carried us captive at the very outset, and had shut u
s in, as it were, on all sides, and when what was best[1] had been accomplished
 by him, and when it seemed good to us to remain with him for a time, then he t
ook us in hand, as a skilled husbandman may take in hand some field unwrought,
and altogether unfertile, and sour, and burnt up, and hard as a rock, and rough
, or, it may be, one not utterly barren or unproductive, but rather, perchance,
 by nature very productive, though then waste and neglected, and stiff and untr
actable with thorns and wild shrubs; or as a gardener may take in hand some pla
nt which is wild indeed, and which yields no cultivated fruits, though it may n
ot be absolutely worthless, and on finding it thus, may, by his skill in garden
ing, bring some cultivated shoot and graft it in, by making a fissure in the mi
ddle, and then bringing the two together, and binding the one to the other, unt
il the sap in each shall flow in one stream,[2] and they shall both grow with t
he same nurture: for one may often see a tree of a mixed and worthless[3] speci
es thus rendered productive in spite of its past barrenness, and made to rear t
he fruits of the good olive on wild roots; or one may see a wild plant saved fr
om being altogether profitless by the skill of a careful gardener; or, once mor
e, one may see a plant which otherwise is one both of culture and of fruitfulne
ss, but which, through the want of skilled attendance, has been left unpruned a
nd unwatered and waste, and which is thus choked by the mass of superfluous sho
ots suffered to grow out of it at random,[4] yet brought to discharge its prope
r function in germination,[5] and made to bear the fruit whose production was f
ormerly hindered by the superfluous growth.[6] In suchwise, then, and with such
 a disposition did he receive us at first; and surveying us, as it were, with a
 husbandman's skill, and gauging us thoroughly, and not confining his notice to
 those things only which are patent to the eye of all, and which are looked upo
n in open light, but penetrating into us more deeply, and probing what is most
inward in us, he put us to the question, and made propositions to us, and liste
ned to us in our replies; and whenever he thereby detected anything in us not w
holly fruitless and profitless and waste, he set about clearing the soil, and t
urning it up and irrigating it, and putting all things in movement, and brought
 his whole skill and care to bear on us, and wrought upon our mind. And thorns
and thistles,[7] and every kind of wild herb or plant which our mind (so unregu
lated and precipitate in its own action) yielded and produced in its uncultured
 luxuriance and native wildness, he cut out and thoroughly removed by the proce
sses of refutation and prohibition; sometimes assailing us in the genuine Socra
tic fashion, and again upsetting us by his argumentation whenever he saw us get
ting restive under him, like so many unbroken steeds, and springing out of the
course and galloping madly about at random, until with a strange kind of persua
siveness and constraint he reduced us to a state of quietude under him by his d
iscourse, which acted like a bridle in our mouth. And that was at first an unpl
easant position for us, and one not without pain, as he dealt with persons who
were unused to it, and still all untrained to submit to reason, when he plied u
s with his argumentations; and yet he purged us by them. And when he had made u
s adaptable, and had prepared us successfully for the reception of the words of
 truth, then, further, as though we were now a soil well wrought and soft, and
ready to impart growth to the seeds cast into it, he dealt liberally with us, a
nd sowed the good seed in season, and attended to all the other cares of the go
od husbandry, each in its own proper season. And whenever he perceived any elem
ent of infirmity or baseness in our mind (whether it was of that character by n
ature, or had become thus gross through the excessive nurture of the body), he
pricked it with his discourses, and reduced it by those delicate words and turn
s of reasoning which, although at first the very simplest, are gradually evolve
d one after the other, and skilfully wrought out, until they advance to a sort
of complexity which can scarce be mastered or unfolded, and which cause us to s
tart up, as it were, out of sleep, and teach us the art of holding always by wh
at is immediately before one, without ever making any slip by reason either of
length or of subtlety. And if there was in us anything of an injudicious and pr
ecipitate tendency, whether in the way of assenting to all that came across us,
 of whatever character the objects might be, and even though they proved false,
 or in the way of often withstanding other things, even though they were spoken
 truthfully,--that, too, he brought under discipline in us by those delicate re
asonings already mentioned, and by others of like kind (for this branch of phil
osophy is of varied form), and accustomed us not to throw in our testimony at o
ne time, and again to refuse it, just at random, and as chance impelled, but to
 give it only after careful examination not only into things mani-

30

fest, but also into those that are secret.[1] For many things which are in high
 repute of themselves, and honourable in appearance, have found entrance throug
h fair words into our ears, as though they were true, while yet they were hollo
w and false, and have borne off and taken possession of the suffrage of truth a
t our hand, and then, no long time afterwards, they have been discovered to be
corrupt and unworthy of credit, and deceitful borrowers of the garb of truth; a
nd have thus too easily exposed us as men who are ridiculously deluded, and who
 bear their witness inconsiderately to things which ought by no means to have w
on it. And, on the contrary, other things which are really honourable and the r
everse of impositions, but which have not been expressed in plausible statement
s, and thus have the appearance of being paradoxical and most incredible, and w
hich have been rejected as false on their own showing, and held up undeservedly
 to ridicule, have afterwards, on careful investigation and examination, been d
iscovered to be the truest of all things, and wholly incontestable, though for
a time spurned and reckoned false. Not simply, then, by dealing with things pat
ent and prominent, which are sometimes delusive and sophistical, but also by te
aching us to search into things within us, and to put them all individually to
the test, lest any of them should give back a hollow sound, and by instructing
us to make sure of these inward things first of all, he trained us to give our
assent to outward things only then and thus, and to express our opinion on all
these severally. In this way, that capacity of our mind which deals critically
with words and reasonings, was educated in a rational manner; not according to
the judgments of illustrious rhetoricians--whatever Greek or foreign honour app
ertains to that title[2]--for theirs is a discipline of little value and no nec
essity: but in accordance with that which is most needful for all, whether Gree
k or outlandish, whether wise or illiterate, and, in fine, not to make a long s
tatement by going over every profession and pursuit separately, in accordance w
ith that which is most indispensable for all men, whatever manner of life they
have chosen, if it is indeed the care and interest of all who have to converse
on any subject whatever with each other, to be protected against deception.

ARGUMENT VIII.--THEN IN DUE SUCCESSION HE INSTRUCTS THEM IN PHYSICS, GEOMETRY,A
ND ASTRONOMY.

    Nor did he confine his efforts merely to that form of the mind which it is
the lot of the dialectics to regulate;[3] but he also took in hand that humble
capacity of mind, (which shows itself) in our amazement at the magnitude, and t
he wondrousness, and the magnificent and absolutely wise construction of the wo
rld, and in our marvelling in a reasonless way, and in our being overpowered wi
th fear, and in our knowing not, like the irrational creatures, what conclusion
 to come to. That, too, he aroused and corrected by other studies in natural sc
ience, illustrating and distinguishing the various divisions of created objects
, and with admirable clearness reducing them to their pristine elements, taking
 them all up perspicuously in his discourse, and going over the nature of the w
hole, and of each several section, and discussing the multiform revolution and
mutation of things in the world, until he carried us frilly along with him unde
r his clear teaching; and by those reasonings which he had partly learned from
others, and partly found out for himself, he filled our minds with a rational i
nstead of an irrational wonder at the sacred economy of the universe, and irrep
roveable constitution of all things. This is that sublime and heavenly study wh
ich is taught by natural philosophy--a science most attractive to all. And what
 need is there now to speak of the sacred mathematics, viz., geometry, so preci
ous to all and above all controversy, and astronomy, whose course is on high? T
hese different studies he imprinted on our understandings, training us in them,
 or calling them into our mind, or doing with us something else which I know no
t how to designate rightly. And the one he presented lucidly as the immutable g
roundwork and secure foundation of all, namely geometry; and by the other, name
ly astronomy, he lifted us up to the things that are highest above us, while he
 made heaven passable to us by the help of each of these sciences, as though th
ey were ladders reaching the skies.

ARGUMENT IX.--BUT HE IMBUES THEIR MINDS, ABOVE ALL, WITH ETHICAL SCIENCE; AND H
E DOES NOT CONFINE HIMSELF TO DISCOURSING ON THE VIRTUES IN WORD, BUT HE RATHER
 CONFIRMS HIS TEACHING BY HIS ACTS.

Moreover, as to those things which excel all in importance, and those for the s
ake of which, above all else, the whole[4] family of the philosophical labours,
 gathering them like good fruits produced by the varied growths of all the othe
r studies, and of long practised philosophizing,--I mean the divine virtues tha
t concern the moral nature, by which the impulses of the mind have their equabl
e and stable subsistence,--through these, too. he aimed at making us truly proo
f

31

against grief and disquietude under the pressure of all ills, and at imparting
to us a well-disciplined and stedfast and religious spirit, so that we might be
 in all things veritably blessed. And this he toiled at effecting by pertinent
discourses, of a wise and soothing tendency, and very often also by the most co
gent addresses touching our moral dispositions, and our modes of life. Nor was
it only by words, but also by deeds, that he regulated in some measure our incl
inations,--to wit, by that very contemplation and observation of the impulses a
nd affections of the mind, by the issue of which most especially the mind is wo
nt to be reduced to a right estate from one of discord, and to be restored to a
 condition of judgment and order out of one of confusion. So that, beholding it
self as in a mirror (and I may say specifically, viewing, on the one hand, the
very beginnings and roots of evil in it, and all that is reasonless within it,
from which spring up all absurd affections and passions; and, on the other hand
, all that is truly excellent and reasonable within it, trader the sway of whic
h it remains proof against injury and perturbation in itself[1], and then scrut
inizing carefully the things thus discovered to be in it), it might cast out al
l those which are the growth of the inferior part, and which waste our powers[2
] through intemperance, or hinder and choke them through depression,--such thin
gs as pleasures and lusts, or pains and fears, and the whole array of ills that
 accompany these different species of evil. I say that thus it might cast them
out and make away with them, by coping with them while yet in their beginnings
and only just commencing their growth, and not leaving them to wax in strength
even by a short delay, but destroying and rooting them out at once; while, at t
he same time, it might foster all those things which are really good, and which
 spring from the nobler part, and might preserve them by nursing them in their
beginnings, and watching carefully over them until they should reach their matu
rity. For it is thus (he used to say) that the heavenly virtues will ripen in t
he soul: to wit, prudence, which first of all is able to judge of those very mo
tions in the mind at once from the things themselves, and by the knowledge whic
h accrues to it of things outside of us, whatever such there may be, both good
and evil; and temperance, the power that makes the right selection among these
things in their beginnings; and righteousness, which assigns what is just to ea
ch; and that virtue which is the conserver of them all--fortitude. And therefor
e he did not accustom us to a mere profession in words, as that prudence, for i
nstance, is the knowledge[3] of good and evil, or of what ought to be done, and
 what ought not: for that would be indeed a vain and profitless study, if there
 was simply the doctrine without the deed; and worthless would that prudence be
, which, without doing the things that ought to be done, and without turning me
n away from those that ought not to be done, should be able merely to furnish t
he knowledge of these things to those who possessed her,--though many such pers
ons come under our observation. Nor, again, did he content himself with the mer
e assertion that temperance is simply the knowledge of what ought to be chosen
and what ought not; though the other schools of philosophers do not teach even
so much as that, and especially the more recent, who are so forcible and vigoro
us in words (so that I have often been astonished at them, when they sought to
demonstrate that there is the same virtue in God and in men, and that upon eart
h, in particular, the wise man is equal[4] to God), and yet are incapable of de
livering the truth as to prudence, so that one shall do the things which are di
ctated by prudence, or the truth as to temperance, so that one shall choose the
 things he has learned by it; and the same holds good also of their treatment o
f righteousness and fortitude. Not thus, however, in mere words only did this t
eacher go over the truths concerning the virtues with us; but he incited us muc
h more to the practice of virtue, and stimulated us by the deeds he did more th
an by the doctrines he taught.

ARGUMENT X.--HENCE THE MERE WORD-SAGES ARE CONFUTED, WHO SAY AND YET ACT NOT.

    Now I beg of the philosophers of this present time, both those whom I have
known personally myself, and those of whom I bare heard by report from others,
and I beg also of all other men, that they take in good part the statements I h
ave just made. And let no one suppose that I have expressed myself thus, either
 through simple friendship toward that man, or through hatred toward the rest o
f the philosophers; for if there is any one inclined to be an admirer of them f
or their discourses, and wishful to speak well of them, and pleased at hearing
the most honourable mention made of them by others, I myself am the man. Nevert
heless, those facts (to which I have referred) are of such a nature as to bring
 upon the very name of philosophy the last degree of ridicule almost from the g
reat mass of men; and I might almost say that I would choose to be altogether u
nversed in it, rather than learn any of the things which these men profess, wit
h whom I thought it good no longer to associate myself in this life,--though in
 that, it may be, I formed an incorrect judgment. But I say that no one should
suppose

32

that I make these statements at the mere prompting of a zealous regard for the
praise of this man, or under the stimulus of any existing animosity[1] towards
other philosophers. But let all be assured that I say even less than his deeds
merit, lest I should seem to be indulging in adulation; and that I do not seek
out studied words and phrases, and cunning means of laudation--I who could neve
r of my own will, even when I was a youth, and learning the popular style of ad
dress trader a professor of the art of public speaking, bear to utter a word of
 praise, or pass any encomium on any one which was not genuine. Wherefore on th
e present occasion, too, I do not think it right, in proposing to myself the ta
sk simply of commending him, to magnify him at the cost of the reprobation of o
thers. And, in good sooth,[2] I should speak only to the man's injury, if, with
 the view of having something grander to say of him, I should compare his bless
ed life with the failings of others. We are not, however, so senseless.[3] But
I shall testify simply to what has come within my own experience, apart from al
l ill-judged comparisons and trickeries in words.

ARGUMENT XI.--ORIGEN IS THE FIRST AND THE ONLY ONE THAT EXHORTS GREGORY TO ADD
TO HIS ACQUIREMENTS THE STUDY OF PHILOSOPHY, AND OFFERS HIM IN A CERTAIN MANNER
 AN EXAMPLE IN HIMSELF. OF JUSTICE, PRUDENCE, TEMPERANCE, AND FORTITUDE. THE MA
XIM, KNOW THYSELF.

    He was also the first and only man that urged me to study the philosophy of
 the Greeks, and persuaded me by his own moral example both to hear and to hold
 by the doctrine of morals, while as yet I had by no means been won over to tha
t, so far as other philosophers were concerned (I again acknowledge it),--not r
ightly so, indeed, but unhappily, as I may say without exaggeration, for me. I
did not, however, associate with many at first, but only with some few who prof
essed to be teachers, though, in good sooth, they all established their philoso
phy only so far as words went.[4] This man, however, was the first that induced
 me to philosophize by his words, as he pointed the exhortation by deeds before
 he gave it in words, and did not merely recite well-studied sentences; nay, he
 did not deem it right to speak on the subject at all, but with a sincere mind,
 and one bent on striving ardently after the practical accomplishment of the th
ings expressed, and he endeavoured all the while to show himself in character l
ike the man whom he describes in his discourses as the person who shall lead a
noble life, and he ever exhibited (in himself), I would say, the pattern of the
 wise man. But as our discourse at the outset proposed to deal with the truth,
and not with vain-glorious language,[5] I shall not speak of him now as the exe
mplar of the wise man. And yet, if I chose to speak thus of him, I should not b
e far astray from the truth.[6] Nevertheless, I pass that by at present. I shal
l not speak of him as a perfect pattern, but as one who vehemently desires to i
mitate the perfect pattern, and strives after it with zeal and earnestness, eve
n beyond the capacity of men, if I may so express myself; and who labours, more
over, also to make us, who are so different,[7] of like character with himself,
 not mere masters and apprehenders of the bald doctrines concerning the impulse
s of the soul, but masters and apprehenders of these impulses themselves. For h
e pressed[8] us on both to deed and to doctrine, and carried us along by that s
ame view and method,[9] not merely into a small section of each virtue, but rat
her into the whole, if mayhap we were able to take it in. And he constrained us
 also, if I may so speak, to practise righteousness on the ground of the person
al action of the soul itself,[10] which be persuaded us to study, drawing us of
f from the officious anxieties of life, and from the turbulence of the forum, a
nd raising us to the nobler vocation of looking into ourselves, and dealing wit
h the things that concern ourselves in truth. Now, that this is to practise rig
hteousness, and that this is the true righteousness, some also of our ancient p
hilosophers have asserted (expressing it as the personal action, I think), and
have affirmed that this is more profitable for blessedness, both to the men the
mselves and to those who are with them,[11] if indeed it belongs to this virtue
 to recompense according

33

to desert, and to assign to each his own. For what else could be supposed to be
 so proper to the soul? Or what could be so worthy of it, as to exercise a care
 over itself, not gazing outwards, or busying itself with alien matters, or, to
 peak shortly, doing the worst injustice to itself, but turning its attention i
nwardly upon itself, rendering its own due to itself, and acting thereby righte
ously?(1) To practise righteousness after this fashion, therefore, he impressed
 upon us, if I may so speak, by a sort of force. And he educated us to prudence
 none the less,--teaching to be at home with ourselves, and to desire and endea
vour to know ourselves, which indeed is the most excellent achievement of philo
sophy, the thing that is ascribed also to the most prophetic of spirits(2) as t
he highest argument of wisdom--the precept, Know thyself. And that this is the
genuine function of prudence, and that such is the heavenly prudence, is affirm
ed well by the ancients; for in this there is one virtue common to God and to m
an; while the soul is exercised in beholding itself as in a mirror, and reflect
s the divine mind in itself, if it is worthy of such a relation, and traces out
 a certain inexpressible method for the attaining of a kind of apotheosis. And
in correspondence with this come also the virtues of temperance. and fortitude:
 temperance, indeed, in conserving this very prudence which must be in the soul
 that knows itself, if that is ever its lot (for this temperance, again, surely
 means just a sound prudence):(3) and fortitude, in keeping stedfastly by all t
he duties(4) which have been spoken of, without falling away from them, either
voluntarily or under any force, and in keeping and holding by all that has been
 laid down. For he teaches that this virtue acts also as a kind of preserver, m
aintainer, and guardian.

ARGUMENT XII.--GREGORY DISALLOWS ANY ATTAINMENT OF THE VIRTUES ON HIS PART. PIE
TY IS BOTH THE BEGINNING AND THE END, AND THUS IT IS THE PARENT OF ALL THE VIRT
UES.

    It is true, indeed that in consequence of our dull and sluggish nature, he
has not yet succeeded in making us righteous, and prudent, and temperate, or ma
nly, although he has laboured zealously on us. For we are neither in real posse
ssion of any virtue whatsoever, either human or divine, nor have we ever made a
ny near approach to it, but we are still far from it. And these are very great
and lofty virtues, and none of them may be assumed by any common person,(5) but
 only by one whom God inspires with the power. We are also by no means so favou
rably constituted for them by nature, neither do we yet profess ourselves to be
 worthy of reaching them; for through our listlessness and feebleness we have n
ot done all these things which ought to be done by those who aspire after what
is noblest, and aim at what is perfect. We are not yet therefore either righteo
us or temperate, or endowed with any of the other virtues. But this admirable m
an. this friend and advocate of the virtues, has long ago done for us perhaps a
ll that it lay in his power to do for us, in making us lovers of virtue, who sh
ould love it with the most ardent affection. And by his own virtue he created i
n us a love at once for the beauty of righteousness the golden face of which in
 truth was shown to us by him; and for prudence, which is worthy of being sough
t by all; and for the true wisdom, which is most delectable; and for temperance
, the heavenly virtue which forms the sound constitution of the soul, and bring
s peace to all who possess it; and for manliness, that most admirable grace; an
d for patience, that virtue peculiarly ours;(6) and, above all, for piety, whic
h men rightly designate when they call it the mother of the virtues. For this i
s the beginning and the end of all the virtues. And beginning with this one, we
 shall find all the other virtues grow upon us most readily: if, white for ours
elves we earnestly aspire after this grace, which every man, be he only not abs
olutely impious, or a mere pleasure-seeker, ought to acquire for himself, in or
der to his being a friend of God and a maintainer(7) of His truth, and while we
 diligently pursue this virtue, we also give heed to the other virtues, in orde
r that we may not approach our God in unworthiness and impurity, but with all v
irtue and wisdom as our best conductors and most sagacious priests. And the end
 of all I consider to be nothing but this: By the pure mind make thyself like(8
) to God, that thou mayest draw near to Him, and abide in Him.

ARGUMENT XIII.--THE METHOD WHICH ORIGEN USED IN HIS THEOLOGICAL AND METAPHYSICA
L INSTRUCTIONS. HE COMMENDS THE STUDY OF ALL WRITERS, THE ATHEISTIC ALONE EXCEP
TED. THE MARVELLOUS POWER OF PERSUASION IN
SPEECH. THE FACILITY OF THE MIND IN GIVING ITS ASSENT.

    And besides all his other patient and laborious efforts, how shall I in wor
ds give any account of

34

what he did for us, in instructing us in theology and the devout character? and
 how shall I enter into the real disposition of the man, and show with what jud
iciousness and careful preparation he would have us familiarized with all disco
urse about the Divinity, guarding sedulously against our being in any peril wit
h respect to what is the most needful thing of all, namely, the knowledge of th
e Cause of all things? For he deemed it right for us to study philosophy in suc
h wise. that we should read with utmost diligence all that has been written, bo
th by the philosophers and by the poets of old, rejecting nothing,(1) and repud
iating nothing (for, indeed, we did not yet possess the power of critical disce
rnment), except only the productions of the atheists, who, in their conceits, l
apse from the general intelligence of man, and deny that there is either a God
or a providence. From these he would have us abstain, because they are not wort
hy of being read, and because it might chance that the soul within us that is m
eant for piety might be defiled by listening to words that are contrary to the
worship of God. For even those who frequent the temples of piety, as they think
 them to be, are careful not to touch anything that is profane.(2) He held, the
refore, that the books of such men did not merit to be taken at all into the co
nsideration of men who have assumed the practice of piety. He thought, however,
 that we should obtain and make ourselves familiar with all other writings, nei
ther preferring nor repudiating any one kind, whether it be philosophical disco
urse or not, whether Greek or foreign, but hearing what all of them have to con
vey. And it was with great wisdom and sagacity that he acted on this principle,
 test any single saying given by the one class or the other should be heard and
 valued above others as alone true, even though it might not be true, and test
it might thus enter our mind and deceive us, and, in being lodged there by itse
lf alone, might make us its own, so that we should no more have the power to wi
thdraw from it, or wash ourselves clear of it, as one washes out a little wool
that has got some colour ingrained in it. For a mighty thing and an energetic i
s the discourse of man, and subtle with its sophisms, and quick to find its way
 into the cars, and mould the mind, and impress us with what it conveys; and wh
en once it has taken possession of us, it can win us over to love it as truth;
and it holds its place within us even though it be false and deceitful, overmas
tering us like some enchanter, and retaining as its champion the very man it ha
s deluded. And, on the other hand, the mind of man is withal a thing easily dec
eived by speech, and very facile in yielding its assent; and, indeed, before it
 discriminates and inquires into matters in any proper way, it is easily won ov
er, either through its own obtuseness and imbecility, or through the subtlety o
f the discourse, to give itself up, at random often, all weary of accurate exam
ination, to crafty reasonings and judgments, which are erroneous themselves, an
d which lead into error those who receive them. And not only so; but if another
 mode of discourse aims at correcting it, it will neither give it admittance, n
or stiffer itself to be altered in opinion, because it is held fast by any noti
on which has previously got possession of it, as though some inexorable tyrant
were lording over it.

ARGUMENT XIV.--WHENCE THE CONTENTIONS OF PHILOSOPHERS HAVE SPRUNG. AGAINST THOS
E WHO CATCH AT EVERYTHING THAT MEETS THEM, AND GIVE IT CREDENCE, AND CLING TO I
T. ORIGEN WAS IN THE HABIT OF CAREFULLY READING AND EXPLAINING THE BOOKS OF THE
 HEATHEN TO HIS DISCIPLES.

    Is it not thus that contradictory and opposing tenets have been introduced,
 and all the contentions of philosophers, while one party withstands the opinio
ns of another, and some hold by certain positions, and others by others, and on
e school attaches itself to one set of dogmas, and another to another? And all,
 indeed, aim at philosophizing, and profess to have been doing so ever since th
ey were first roused to it, and declare that they desire it not less now when t
hey are well versed in the discussions than when they began them: yea, rather t
hey allege that they have even more love for philosophy now, after they have ha
d, so to speak, a little taste of it, and have had the liberty of dwelling on i
ts discussions, than when at first, and without any previous experience of it,
they were urged by a sort of impulse to philosophize. That is what they say; an
d henceforth they give no heed to any words of those who hold opposite opinions
. And accordingly, no one of the ancients has ever induced any one of the moder
ns, or those of the Peripatetic school, to turn to his way of thinking, and ado
pt his method of philosophizing; and, on the other band, none of the moderns ha
s imposed his notions upon those of the ancient school. Nor, in short, has any
one done so with any other.(3) For it is not an easy thing to induce one to giv
e up his own opinions, and accept those of others; although these might, perhap
s, even be sentiments which, if he had been led to credit them before he began
to philosophize, the man might at first have admired

35

and accepted with all readiness: as, while the mind was not yet preoccupied, he
 might have directed his attention to that set of opinions, and given them his
approval, and on their behalf opposed himself to those which he holds at presen
t. Such, at least, has been the kind of philosophizing exhibited by our noble a
nd most eloquent and critical Greeks: for whatever any one of these has lighted
 on at the outset, moved by some impulse or other, that alone he declares to be
 truth, and holds that all else which is maintained by other philosophers is si
mply delusion and folly, though he himself does not more satisfactorily establi
sh his own positions by argument, than do all the others severally defend their
 peculiar tenets; the man's object being simply to be under no obligation to gi
ve up and alter his opinions, whether by constraint or by persuasion, while he
has (if one may speak truth) nothing else but a kind of unreasoning impulse tow
ards these dogmas on the side of philosophy, and possesses no other criterion o
f what he imagines to be true, than (let it not seem an incredible assertion) u
ndistinguishing chance.(1) And as each one thus becomes attached to those posit
ions with which he has first fallen in, and is, as it were, held in chains by t
hem, he is no longer capable of giving attention to others, if he happens to ha
ve anything of his own to offer on every subject with the demonstration of trut
h, and if he has the aid of argument to show how false the tenets of his advers
aries are; for, helplessly and thoughtlessly and as if he looked for some happy
 contingency, he yields himself to the reasonings that first take possession of
 him.(2) And such reasonings mislead those who accept them, not only in other m
atters, but above all, in what is of greatest and most essential consequence--i
n the knowledge of God and in piety. And yet men become bound by them in such a
 manner that no one can very easily release them. For they are like men caught
in a swamp stretching over some wide impassable plain, which, when they have on
ce fallen into it, allows them neither to retrace their steps nor to cross it a
nd effect their safety, but keeps them down in its soil until they meet their e
nd; or they may be compared to men in a deep, dense, and majestic forest, into
which the wayfarer enters, with the idea, perchance, of finding his road out of
 it again forthwith, and of taking his course once !more on the open plain,(3)
but is baffled in his purpose by the extent and thickness of the wood. And turn
ing in a variety of directions, and lighting on various continuous paths within
 it, he pursues many a course, thinking that by some of them he will surely fin
d his way out: but they only lead him farther in, and in no way open up an exit
 for him, inasmuch as they are all only paths within the forest itself; until a
t last the traveller, utterly worn out and exhausted, seeing that all the ways
he had tried had proved only forest still, and despairing of finding any more h
is dwelling-place on earth, makes up his mind to abide there, and establish his
 hearth, and lay out for his use such free space as he can prepare in the wood
itself. Or again, we might take the similitude of a labyrinth, which has but on
e apparent entrance, so that one suspects nothing artful from the outside, and
goes within by the single door that shows itself; and then, after advancing to
the farthest interior, and viewing the cunning spectacle, and examining the con
struction so skillfully contrived, and full of passages, and laid out with unen
ding paths leading inwards or outwards, he decides to go out again, but finds h
imself unable, and sees his exit completely intercepted by that inner construct
ion which appeared such a triumph of cleverness. But, after all, there is neith
er any labyrinth so inextricable and intricate, nor any forest so dense and dev
ious, nor any plain or swamp so difficult for those to get out of, who have onc
e got within it, as is discussion,(4) at least as one may meet with it in the c
ase of certain of these philosophers.(5) Wherefore, to secure us against fallin
g into the unhappy experience of most, he did not introduce us to any one exclu
sive school of philosophy; nor did he judge it proper for us to go away with an
y single class of philosophical opinions, but he introduced us to all, and dete
rmined that we should be ignorant of no kind of Grecian doctrine.(6) And he him
self went on with us, preparing the way before us, and leading us by the hand,
as on a journey, whenever anything tortuous and unsound and delusive came in ou
r way. And be helped us like a skilled expert who has had long familiarity with
 such subjects, and is not strange or inexperienced in anything

36

of the kind, and who therefore may remain safe in his own altitude, while he st
retches forth his hand to others, and effects their security too, as one drawin
g up the submerged. Thus did he deal with us, selecting and setting before us a
ll that was useful and true in all the various philosophers, and putting aside
all that was false. And this he did for us, both in other branches of man's kno
wledge, and most especially in all that concerns piety.

ARGUMENT XV.--FILE CASE OF DIVINE MATTERS. ONLY GOD AND HIS PROPHETS ARE TO BE
HEARD IN THESE. THE PROPHETS AND THEIR AUDITORS ARE ACTED ON BY THE SAME AFFLAT
US. ORIGEN'S EXCELLENCE IN THE INTERPRETATION OF SCRIPTURE.

    With respect to these human teachers, indeed, he counselled us to attach ou
rselves to none of them, not even though they were attested as most wise by all
 men, but to devote ourselves to God alone, and to the prophets. And he himself
 became the interpreter of the prophets(1) to us, and explained whatsoever was
dark or enigmatical in them. For there are many things of that kind in the sacr
ed words; and whether it be that God is pleased to hold communication with men
in such a way as that the divine word may not enter all naked and uncovered int
o an unworthy soul, such as many are, or whether it be, that while every divine
 oracle is in its own nature most clear and perspicuous, it seems obscure and d
ark to us, who have apostatized from God, and have lost the faculty of hearing
through time and age, I cannot tell. But however the case may stand, if it he t
hat there are some words really enigmatical, he explained all such, and set the
m in the light, as being himself a skilled and most discerning hearer of God; o
r if it be that none of them are really obscure in their own nature, they were
also not unintelligible to him, who alone of all men of the present time with w
hom I have myself been acquainted, or of whom I have heard by the report of oth
ers, has so deeply studied the clear and luminous oracles of God, as to be able
 at once to receive their meaning into his own mind, and to convey it to others
. For that Leader of all men, who inspires(2) God's dear prophets, and suggests
 all their prophecies and their mystic and heavenly words, has honoured this ma
n as He would a friend, and has constituted him an expositor of these same orac
les; and things of which He only gave a hint by others, He made matters of full
 instruction by this man's instrumentality; and in things which He, who is wort
hy of all trust, either enjoined in regal fashion, or simply enunciated, He imp
arted to this man the gift of investigating and unfolding and explaining them:
so that, if there chanced to be any one of obtuse and incredulous mind, or one
again thirsting for instruction, he might learn from this man, and in some mann
er be constrained to understand and to decide for belief, and to follow God. Th
ese things, moreover, as I judge, he gives forth only and truly by participatio
n in the Divine Spirit: for there is need of the same power for or those who pr
ophesy and for those who hear the prophets; and no one can rightly hear a proph
et, unless the same Spirit who prophesies bestows on him the capacity of appreh
ending His words. And this principle is expressed indeed in the Holy Scriptures
 themselves, when it is said that only He who shutteth openeth, and no other on
e whatever;(3) and what is shut is opened when the word of inspiration explains
 mysteries. Now that greatest gift this man has received from God, and that nob
lest of all endowments he has had bestowed upon him from heaven, that he should
 be an interpreter of the oracles of God to men,(4) and that he might understan
d the words of God, even as if God spake them to him, and that he might recount
 them to men in such wise as that they may hear them with intelligence.(5) Ther
efore to us there was no forbidden subject of speech;(6) for there was no matte
r of knowledge hidden or inaccessible to us, but we had it in our power to lear
n every kind of discourse, both foreign(7) and Greek, both spiritual and politi
cal, both divine and human; and we were permitted with all freedom to go round
the whole circle of knowledge, and investigate it, and satisfy ourselves with a
ll kinds of doctrines, and enjoy the sweets of intellect. And whether it was so
me ancient system of truth, or whether it was something one might otherwise nam
e that was before us, we had in him an apparatus and a power at once admirable
and full of the most beautiful views. And to speak in brief, he was truly a par
adise to us after the similitude of the paradise of God, wherein we were not se
t indeed to till the soil beneath us, or to make ourselves gross with bodily nu
rture,(8) but only to increase the acquisitions of mind with all gladness and e
njoyment,--planting, so to speak, some fair growths ourselves, or having them p
lanted in us by the Author of all things.

ARGUMENT XVI.--GREGORY LAMENTS HIS DEPARTURE UNDER A THREEFOLD COMPARISON; LIKE
NING IT TO ADAM'S DEPARTURE OUT OF PARADISE.

37

TO THE PRODIGAL SON'S ABANDONMENT OF HIS FATHER'S HOUSE, AND TO THE DEPORTATION
 OF THE JEWS INTO BABYLON.

    Here, truly, is the paradise of comfort; here are true gladness and pleasur
e, as we have enjoyed them during this period which is now at its end--no short
 space indeed in itself, and yet all too short if this is really to be its conc
lusion, when we depart and leave this place behind us. For I know not what has
possessed me, or what offence has been committed by me, that I should now be go
ing away--that I should now be put away. I know not what I should say, unless i
t be that I am like a second Adam and have begun to talk, outside of paradise.
How excellent might my life be, were I but a listener to the addresses of my te
acher, and silent myself! Would that even now I could have learned to be mute a
nd speechless, rather than to present this new spectacle of making the teacher
the hearer! For what concern had I with such a harangue as this? and what oblig
ation was there upon me to make such an address, when it became me not to depar
t, but to cleave fast to the place? But these things seem like the transgressio
ns that sprung from the pristine deceit, and the penalties of these primeval of
fences still await me here. Do I not appear to myself to be disobedient(1) in d
aring thus to overpass the words of God, when I ought to abide in them, and hol
d by them? And in that I withdraw, I flee from this blessed life, even as the p
rimeval man fled from the face of God, and I return to the soil from which I wa
s taken. Therefore shall I have to eat of the soil all the days of my life ther
e, and I shall have to till the soil--the very soil which produces thorns and t
histles for me, that is to say, pains and reproachful anxieties--set loose as I
 shall be from cares that are good and noble. And what I left behind me before,
 to that I now return--to the soil, as it were, from which I came, and to my co
mmon relationships here below, and to my father's house--leaving the good soil,
 where of old I knew not that the good fatherland lay; leaving also the relatio
ns in whom at a later period I began to recognise the true kinsmen of my soul,
and the house, too, of him who is ill truth our father, in which the father abi
des, and is piously honoured and revered by the genuine sons, whose desire it a
lso is to abide therein. But I, destitute alike of all piety and worthiness, am
 going forth from the number of these, and am turning back to what is behind, a
nd am retracing my steps. It is recorded that a certain son, receiving from his
 father tile portion of goods that fell to him proportionately with the other h
eir, his brother, departed, by his own determination, into a strange country fa
r distant from his father; and, living there in riot, he scattered his ancestra
l substance, and utterly wasted it; and at last, under the pressure of want, he
 hired himself as a swine-herd; and being driven to extremity by hunger, he lon
ged to share the food given to the swine, but could not touch it. Thus did he p
ay the penalty of his dissolute life, when he had to exchange his father's tabl
e, which was a princely one, for something he had not looked forward to--the su
stenance of swine and serfs. And we also seem to have some such fortune before
us, now that we are departing, and that, too, without the full portion that fal
ls to us. For though we have not received all that we ought, we are nevertheles
s going away, leaving behind us what is noble and dear with you and beside you,
 and taking in exchange only what is inferior. For all things melancholy will n
ow meet us in succession,--tumult and confusion instead of peace, and an unregu
lated life instead of one of tranquillity and harmony, and a hard bondage, and
the slavery of market-places, and lawsuits, and crowds, instead of this freedom
; and neither pleasure nor any sort of leisure shall remain to us for the pursu
it of nobler objects. Neither shall we have to speak of the words of inspiratio
n, but we shall have to speak of the works of men,--a thing which has been deem
ed simply a bane by the prophet,(2)--and in our case, indeed, those of wicked m
en And truly we shall have night in place of clay, and darkness in place of the
 clear light, and grief instead of the festive assembly; and in place of a fath
erland, a hostile country will receive us, in which I shall have no liberty to
sing my sacred song,(3) for how could I sing it in a land strange to my soul, i
n which the sojourners have no permission to approach God? but only to weep and
 mourn, as I call to mind the different state of things here, if indeed even th
at shall be in my power. We read(4) that enemies once assailed a great and sacr
ed city, in which the worship of God was observed, and dragged away its inhabit
ants, both singers and prophets,(5) into their own country, which was Babylon.
And it is narrated that these captives, when they were detained in the land, re
fused, even when asked by their conquerors, to sing the divine song, or to play
 in a profane country, and hung their harps on the willow-trees, and wept by th
e rivers of Babylon. Like one of these I verily seem to myself to be, as I am c
ast forth from this city, and from this sacred

38

fatherland of mine, where both by day and by night the holy laws are declared,
and hymns and songs and spiritual words are heard; where also there is perpetua
l sunlight; where by day in waking vision(1) we have access to the mysteries of
 God, and by night in dreams(2) we are still occupied with what the soul has se
en and handled in the day; and where, in short, the inspiration of divine thing
s prevails over all continually. From this city, I say, I am cast forth, and bo
rne captive to a strange land, where I shall have no power to pipe:(3) for, lik
e these men of old, I shall have to hang my instrument on the willows, and the
rivers shall be my place of sojourn, and I shall have to work in mud, and shall
 have no heart to sing hymns, even though I remember them; yea, it may be that,
 through constant occupation with other subjects, I shall forget even them, lik
e one spoiled of memory itself. And would that, in going away, I only went away
 against my will, as a captive is wont to do; but I go away also of my own will
, and not by constraint of another; and by my own act I am dispossessed of this
 city, when it is in my option to remain in it. Perchance, too, in leaving this
 place, I may be going to prosecute no safe journey, as it sometimes fares with
 one who quits some safe and peaceful city; and it is indeed but too likely tha
t, in journeying, I may fall into the hands of robbers, anti be taken prisoner,
 and be stripped and wounded with many strokes, and be cast forth to lie half-d
ead somewhere.

ARGUMENT XVII.--GREGORY CONSOLES HIMSELF.

    But why should I utter such lamentations? There lives still the Saviour of
all men, even of the half-dead and the despoiled, the Protector and Physician f
or all, the Word, that sleepless Keeper of all. We have also seeds of truth whi
ch thou hast made us know as oar possession, and all that we have received from
 thee,--those noble deposits of instruction, with which we take our coarse; and
 though we weep, indeed, as those who go forth from home, we yet carry those se
eds with us. It may be, then, that the Keeper who presides over us will bear us
 in safety through all that shall befall as; and it may be that we shall come y
et again to thee, bringing with us the fruits and handfuls yielded by these see
ds, far from perfect truly, for how could they be so? but still such as a life
spent in civil business(4) makes it possible for us to rear, though marred inde
ed by a kind of faculty that is either unapt to bear fruit altogether, or prone
 to bear bad fruit, but which, I trust, is one not destined to be further misus
ed by us, if God grants us grace.(5)

ARGUMENT XVIII.--PERORATION, AND APOLOGY FOR
THE ORATION.

    Wherefore let me now have done with this address, which I have had the bold
ness to deliver m a presence wherein boldness least became me. Yet this address
 is one which, I think, has aimed heartily at signifying our thanks to the best
 of our ability,--for though we have had noticing to say worthy of the subject,
 we could not be altogether silent,--and one, too, which has given expression t
o our regrets, as those are wont to do who go abroad in separation from friends
. And whether this speech of mine may not have contained things puerile or bord
ering on flattery, or things offending by excess of simplicity on the one hand,
 or of elaboration on the other, I know not. Of this, however, I am clearly con
scious, that at least there is in it nothing unreal, but all that is true and g
enuine, in sincerity of opinion, and in purity and integrity of judgment.

ARGUMENT XIX.--APOSTROPHE TO ORIGEN, AND THEREWITH THE LEAVE-TAKING, AND THE UR
GENT UTTERANCE OF PRAYER.

    But, O dear soul, arise thou and offer prayer, and now dismiss us; and as b
y thy holy instructions thou hast been our rescuer when we enjoyed thy fellowsh
ip, so save us still by thy prayers in our separation. Commend us and set us co
nstantly(6) before thee in prayer. Or rather commend us continually to that God
 who brought us to time, giving thanks for all that has been granted us in the
past, and imploring Him still to lead us by the hand in the future, and to stan
d ever by us, filling oar mind with the understanding of His precepts, inspirin
g us with the godly fear of Himself, and vouchsafing us henceforward His choice
st guidance.(7) For when we are gone from thee, we shall not have the same libe
rty for obeying Him as was ours when we were

39

with thee.(1) Pray, therefore, that some encouragement may be conveyed to us fr
om Him when we lose thy presence, and that He may send us a good conductor, som
e angel to be our comrade on the way, And entreat Him also to turn our course,
for that is the one thing which above all else will effectually comfort us, and
 bring us back to thee again.

ELUCIDATION.

    NEALE, in his valuable work,[1] does full justice to Dionysius, whose life
is twinned with Gregory's; but he seems to me most unaccountably to slight the
truly great and commanding genius of Gregory. I take opportunity, then, to dire
ct attention to Neale's candid, and, on the whole, favourable view of Origen; b
ut it grieves me whenever I see in critics a manifest inability to put themselv
es back into the times of which they write, as I think is the case, not infrequ
ently, even with Dr. Neale. The figure of this grand ornament of the mighty pat
riarchate and school of Alexandria is colossal.[2] His genius is Titanic, and h
as left all Christendom profoundly his debtor to this day, by the variety of hi
s work and the versatility of his speech and pen. Doubtless the youthful Gregor
y's panegyric does contain, as he himself suggests, much that is "puerile or bo
rdering on flattery;" but, as he protests with transparent truthfulness, "there
 is nothing in it unreal." It shines with "sincerity of thought and integrity o
f judgment." And as such, what a portrait it presents us of the love and patien
t effort of this lifelong confessor! Let me commend this example to professors
of theology generally. All can learn from it the power of sweetness and love, u
nited with holiness of purpose, to stamp the minds and the characters of youth
with the divine "image and superscription."
    But, as to the sharpness of modern censures upon Origen's conspicuous fault
s, I must suggest three important considerations, which should be applied to al
l the Ante-Nicene doctors:(1) How could they who were working out the formulas
of orthodoxy, be expected to use phrases with the skill and precision which bec
ame necessary only after the great Synodical period had embodied them in clear,
 dogmatic statements?(2) How could the active intellect of an Origen have faile
d to make great mistakes in such an immensity of labours and such a variety of
works?(3) If, in our own day, we indulge speculative minds in large liberties s
o long as they never make shipwreck of the faith, how much more should we deem
them excusable who were unable to consult libraries of well-digested thought, a
nd to employ, as we do, the accumulated wealth of fifty generations of believer
s, whenever we are called to the solemn responsibility of impressing our convic
tions upon others? The conclusion of Dr. Neale's review of Origen balances the
praise and blame accorded to him by those nearest to his times;[3] but let us r
eflect upon the painful conflicts of those times, and upon the pressure under w
hich, to justify their own positions, they were often forced to object to any e
rror glorified by even the apparent patronage of Origen.

40

PART II.--DUBIOUS OR SPURIOUS WRITINGS.

A SECTIONAL CONFESSION OF FAITH.(1)

I.
    MOST hostile and alien to the Apostolic Confession are those who speak of t
he Son as assumed to Himself by the Father out of nothing, and from an emanatio
nal origin;(2) and those who hold the same sentiments with respect to the Holy
Spirit; those who say that the Son is constituted divine by gift and grace, and
 that the Holy Spirit is made holy; those who regard the name of the Son as one
 common to servants, and assert that thus He is the first-born of the creature,
 as becoming, like the creature, existent out of non-existence, and as being fi
rst made, and who refuse to admit that He is the only-begotten Son,--the only O
ne that the Father has, and that He has given Himself to be reckoned in the num
ber of mortals, and is thus reckoned first-born; those who circumscribe the gen
eration of the Son by the Father with a measured interval after the fashion of
man, and refuse to acknowledge that the aeon of the Begetter and that of the Be
gotten are without beginning; those who introduce three separate and diverse sy
stems of divine worship,(3) whereas there is but one form of legitimate service
 which we have received of old from the law and the prophets, and which has bee
n confirmed by the Lord and preached by the apostles. Nor less alienated from t
he true confession are those who hold not the doctrine of the Trinity according
 to truth, as a relation consisting of three persons, but impiously conceive it
 as implying a triple being in a unity (Monad), formed in the way of synthesis(
4) and think that the Son is the wisdom in God, in the same manner as the human
 wisdom subsists in man whereby the man is wise, and represent the Word as bein
g simply like the word which we utter or conceive, without any hypostasis whate
ver.

II.
    But the Church's Confession, and the Creed that brings salvation to the wor
ld, is that which deals with the incarnation of the Word, and bears that He gav
e Himself over to the flesh of man which He acquired of Mary, while yet He cons
erved His own identity, and sustained no divine transposition or mutation, but
was brought into conjunction with the flesh after the similitude of man; so tha
t the flesh was made one with the divinity, the divinity having assumed the cap
acity of receiving the flesh in the fulfilling of the mystery. And after the di
ssolution of death there remained to the holy flesh a perpetual impassibility a
nd a changeless immortality, man's original glory being taken up into it again
by the power of the divinity, and being ministered then to all men by the appro
priation of faith.(5)

III.
    If, then, there are any here, too, who falsify the holy faith, either by at
tributing to the divinity as its own what belongs to the humanity--progressions
,(6) and passions, and a glory coming with accession(7)--or by separating from
the divinity the progressive and passible body, as if subsisted of itself apart
,--these persons also are

41

outside the confession of the Church and of salvation. No one, therefore, can k
now God unless he apprehends the Son; for the Son is the wisdom by whose instru
mentality all things have been created; and these created objects declare this
wisdom, and God is recognised in the wisdom. But the wisdom of God is not anyth
ing similar to the wisdom which man possesses, but it is the perfect wisdom whi
ch proceeds from the perfect God, and abides for ever, not like the thought of
man, which passes from him in the word that is spoken and (straightway) ceases
to be. Wherefore it is not wisdom only, but also God; nor is it Word only, but
also Son. And whether, then, one discerns God through creation, or is taught to
 know Him by the Holy Scriptures, it is impossible either to apprehend Him or t
o learn of Him apart from His wisdom. And he who calls upon God rightly, calls
on Him through the Son; and he who approaches Him in a true fellowship, comes t
o Him through Christ. Moreover, the Son Himself cannot be approached apart from
 the Spirit. For the Spirit is both the life and the holy formation of all thin
gs;(1) and God sending forth this Spirit through the Son makes the creature(2)
like Himself.

IV.
    One therefore is God the Father, one the Word, one the Spirit, the life, th
e sanctification of all. And neither is there another God as Father,(3) nor is
there another Son as Word of God, nor is there another Spirit as quickening and
 sanctifying. Further, although the saints are called both gods, and sons, and
spirits, they are neither filled with the Spirit, nor are made like the Son and
 God. And if, then, any one makes this affirmation, that the Son is God, simply
 as being Himself filled with divinity, and not as being generated of divinity,
 he has belied the Word, he has belied the Wisdom, he has lost the knowledge of
 God; he has fallen away into the worship of the creature, he has taken up the
impiety of the Greeks, to that he has gone back; and he has become a follower o
f the unbelief of the Jews, who, supposing the Word of God to be but a human so
n, have refused to accept Him as God, and have declined to acknowledge Him as t
he Son of God. But it is impious to think of the Word of God as merely human, a
nd to think of the works which are done by Him as abiding, while He abides not
Himself. And if any one says that the Christ works all things only as commanded
 by the Word, he will both make the Word of God idle,(4) and will change the Lo
rd's order into servitude. For the slave is one altogether under command, and t
he created is not competent to create; for to suppose that what is itself creat
ed may in like manner create other things, would imply that it has ceased to be
 like the creature.(5)

V.
    Again, when one speaks of the Holy Spirit as an object made holy,(6) he wil
l no longer be able to apprehend all things as being sanctified in (the) Spirit
. For he who has sanctified one, sanctifies all things. That man, consequently,
 belies the fountain of sanctification, the Holy Spirit, who denudes Him of the
 power of sanctifying, and he will thus be precluded from numbering Him with th
e Father and the Son; he makes nought, too, of the holy (ordinance of) baptism,
 and will no more be able to acknowledge the holy and august Trinity.(7) For ei
ther we must apprehend the perfect Trinity(7) in its natural and genuine glory,
 or we shall be under the necessity of speaking no more of a Trinity, but only
of a Unity;(8) or else, not numbering(9) created objects with the Creator, nor
the creatures with the Lord of all, we mast also not number what is sanctified
with what sanctifies; even as no object that is made can be numbered with the T
rinity, but in the name of the Holy Trinity baptism and invocation and worship
are administered. For if there are three several glories, there must also be th
ree several forms of cultus with those who impiously worship the creature; for
if there is a distinction in the nature of the objects worshipped, there ought
to be also with these men a distinction in the nature of the worship offered. W
hat is recent(10) surely is not to be worshipped along with what is eternal; fo
r the recent comprehends all that has had a beginning, while mighty and measure
less is lie who is before the ages. He, therefore, who supposes some beginning
of times in the life of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, therewith also cuts off
 any possibility of numbering the Son and the Spirit with the Father. For as we
 acknowledge the glory to be one, so ought we also to acknowledge the substance
 in the Godhead to be one, and one also the eternity of the Trinity.

VI.
    Moreover, the capital clement of our salvation is the incarnation of the Wo
rd. We believe,

42

therefore, that it was without any change in the Divinity that the incarnation
of the Word took place with a view to the renewal of humanity. For there took p
lace neither mutation nor transposition, nor any circumscription in will,(1) as
 regards the holy energy(2) of God; but while that remained in itself the same,
 it also effected the work of the incarnation with a view to the salvation of t
he world: and the Word of God, living(3) on earth after man's fashion, maintain
ed likewise in all the divine presence, fulfilling all things, and being united
(4) properly and individually with flesh; and while the sensibilities proper to
 the flesh were there, the divine energy maintained the impassibility proper to
 itself. Impious, therefore, is the man who introduces the passibility(5) into
the energy. For the Lord of glory appeared in fashion as a man when He undertoo
k the economy(6) upon the earth; and He fulfilled the law for men by His deeds,
 and by His sufferings He did away with man's sufferings, and by His death He a
bolished death, and by his resurrection He brought life to light; and now we lo
ok for His appearing from heaven in glory for the life and judgment of all, whe
n the resurrection of the dead shall take place, to the end that recompense may
 be made to all according to their desert.

VII.
    But some treat the Holy Trinity(7) in an awful manner, when they confidentl
y assert that there are not three persons, and introduce (the idea of) a person
 devoid of subsistence.(8) Wherefore we clear ourselves of Sabellius, who says
that the Father and the Son are the same. For he holds that the Father is He wh
o speaks, and that the Son is the Word that abides in the Father, and becomes m
anifest at the time of the creation,(9) and thereafter reverts to God on the fu
lfilling of all things. The same affirmation he makes also of the Spirit. We fo
rswear this, because we believe that three persons--namely, Father, Son, and Ho
ly Spirit--are declared to possess the one Godhead: for the one divinity showin
g itself forth according to nature in the Trinity(10) establishes the oneness o
f the nature; and thus there is a (divinity that is the) property of the Father
, according to the word, "There is one God the Father;"(11) and there is a divi
nity hereditary(12) in the Son, as it is written, "The Word was God;"(13) and t
here is a divinity present according to nature in the Spirit into wit, what sub
sists as the Spirit of God--according to Paul's statement, "Ye are the temple o
f God, and the Spirit of God dwelleth in you."(14)

VIII.
    Now the person in each declares the independent being and subsistence.(15)
But divinity is the property of the Father; and whenever the divinity of these
three is spoken of as one, testimony is borne that the property(16) of the Fath
er belongs also to the Son and the Spirit: wherefore, if the divinity may be sp
oken of as one in three persons, the trinity is established, and the unity is n
ot dissevered; and the oneness Which is naturally the Father's is also acknowle
dged to be the Son's and the Spirit's. If one, however, speaks of one person as
 he may speak of one divinity, it cannot be that the two in the one are as one.
(17) For Paul addresses the Father as one in respect of divinity, and speaks of
 the Son as one in respect of lordship: "There is one God the Father, of whom a
re all things, and we for Him; and one Lord Jesus Christ, by whom are all thing
s, and we by Him."(18) Wherefore if there is one God, and one Lord, and at the
same time one person as one divinity in one lordship,(19) how can credit be giv
en to (this distinction in) the words "of whom" and "by whom," as has been said
 before? We speak, accordingly, not as if we separated the lordship from the di
vinity, nor as estranging the one from the other, but as unifying them in the w
ay warranted by actual fact and truth; and we call the Son God with the propert
y of the Father,(20) as being His image and offspring; and we call the Father L
ord, addressing Him by the name of the One Lord, as being His Origin and Begett
or.

IX.
    The same position we hold respecting the Spirit, who has that unity with th
e Son which the Son has with the Father. Wherefore let the hypostasis of the Fa
ther be discriminated by the appellation of God; but let not the Son be cut off
 from this appellation, for He is of God. Again, let the person of the Son also
 be discriminated by the appellation of Lord; only let not God be dissociated f
rom that, for He is Lord as being the Father of the Lord. And as it is proper t
o the Son to exercise lordship, for He

43

it is that made (all things) by Himself, and now rules the things that were mad
e, while at the same time the Father has a prior possession of that property, i
nasmuch as He is the Father of Him who is Lord; so we speak of the Trinity as O
ne God, and yet not as if we made the one by a synthesis of three: for the subs
istence that is constituted by synthesis is something altogether partitive and
imperfect.(1) But just as the designation Father is the expression of originali
ty and generation, so the designation Son is the expression of the image and of
fspring of the Father. Hence, if one were to ask how there is but One God, if t
here is also a God of God, we would reply that that is a term proper to the ide
a of original causation,(2) so far as the Father is the one First Cause.(3) And
 if one were also to put the question, how there is but One Lord, if the Father
 also is Lord, we might answer that again by saying that He is so in so far as
He is the Father of the Lord; and this difficulty shall meet us no longer.

X.
    And again, if the impious say, How will there not be three Gods and three P
ersons, on the supposition that they have one and the same divinity?--we shall
reply: Just because God is the Cause and Father of the Son; and this Son is the
 image and offspring of the Father, and not His brother; and the Spirit in like
 manner is the Spirit of God, as it is written, "God is a Spirit."(4) And in ea
rlier times we have this declaration from the prophet David: "By the word of th
e Lord were the heavens stablished, and all the power of them by the breath (sp
irit) of His mouth."(5) And in the beginning of the book of the creation(6) it
is written thus: "And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters."(7)
And Paul in his Epistle to the Romans says "But ye are not in the flesh, but in
 the Spirit, if so be that the Spirit of God dwell in you."(8) And again he say
s: "But if the Spirit of Him that raised up Jesus from the dead dwell in you, H
e that raised up Christ from the dead shall also quicken your mortal bodies by
His Spirit that dwelleth in you."(9) And again: "As many as are led by the Spir
it of God, they are the sons of God. For ye have not received the spirit of bon
dage again to fear; but ye have received the Spirit of adoption, whereby we cry
, Abba, Father."(10) And again: "I say the truth in Christ, I lie not, my consc
ience also bearing me witness in the Holy Ghost."(11) And again: "Now the God o
f hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, that ye may abound in hope
, by the power of the Holy Ghost."(12)

XI.
    And again, writing to those same Romans, he says: "But I have written the m
ore boldly unto you in some sort, as putting you in mind, because of the grace
that is given to me of God, that I should be the minister of Jesus Christ to th
e Gentiles, ministering the Gospel of God, that the offering up of the Gentiles
 might be acceptable, being sanctified by the Holy Ghost. I have therefore wher
eof I may glory through Jesus Christ in those things which pertain to God. For
I dare not to speak of any of those things which Christ hath not wrought by me,
(13) to make the Gentiles obedient, by word and deed, through mighty signs and
wonders, by the power of the Holy Spirit."(14) And again: "Now I beseech you, b
rethren, for our Lord Jesus Christ's sake, and by the love of the Spirit."(15)
And these things, indeed, are written in the Epistle to the Romans.(16)

XII.
    Again, in the Epistle to the Corinthians he says: "For my speech and my pre
aching was not in the enticing words of man's wisdom, but in demonstration of t
he Spirit and of power; that your faith should not stand in the wisdom of men,
but in the power of God."(17) And again he says: "As it is written, Eye hath no
t seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things w
hich God hath prepared for them that love Him. But God hath revealed them unto
us by His Spirit: for the Spirit searcheth all things, yea, the deep things of
God. For what man knoweth the things of a man, save the spirit of man which is
in him? Even so the things of God knoweth no man, but the Spirit of God."(18) A
nd again he says: "But the natural man receiveth not the things of the Spirit o
f God."(19)

XIII.
    Seest thou that all through Scripture the Spirit is preached, and yet nowhe
re named a creature?

44

And what can the impious have to say if the Lord sends forth His disciples to b
aptize in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit?(1) Wi
thout contradiction, that implies a communion and unity between them, according
 to which there are neither three divinities nor (three) lordships; but, while
there remain truly and certainly the three persons, the real unity of the three
 must be acknowledged. And in this way proper credit will be given to the sendi
ng and the being sent(2) (in the Godhead), according to which the Father hath s
ent forth the Son, and the Son in like manner sends forth the Spirit. For one o
f the persons surely could not (be said to) send Himself; and one could not spe
ak of the Father as incarnate. For the articles of our faith will not concur wi
th the vicious tenets of the heresies; and it is right that our conceptions sho
uld follow the inspired and apostolic doctrines, and not that our impotent fanc
ies should coerce the articles of our divine faith.

XIV.
    But if they say, How can there be three Persons, and how but one Divinity?-
-we shall make this reply: That there are indeed three persons, inasmuch as the
re is one person of God the Father, and one of the Lord the Son, and one of the
 Holy Spirit; and yet that there is but one divinity, inasmuch as the Son is th
e Image of God the Father, who is One,--that is, He is God of God; and in like
manner the Spirit is called the Spirit of God, and that, too, of nature accordi
ng to the very substance,(3) and not according to simple participation of God.
And there is one substance(4) in the Trinity, which does not subsist also in th
e case of objects that are made; for there is not one substance in God and in t
he things that are made, because none of these is in substance God. Nor, indeed
, is the Lord one of these according to substance, but there is one Lord the So
n, and one Holy Spirit; and we speak also of one Divinity, and one Lordship, an
d one Sanctity in the Trinity; because the Father is the Cause(5) of the Lord,
having begotten Him eternally, and the Lord is the Prototype(6) of the Spirit.
For thus the Father is Lord, and the Son also is God; and of God it is said tha
t "God is a Spirit."(7)

XV.
    We therefore acknowledge one true God, the one First Cause, and one Son, ve
ry God of very God, possessing of nature the Father's divinity,--that is to say
, being the same in substance with the Father;(8) and one Holy Spirit, who by n
ature and in truth sanctifies all, and makes divine, as being of the substance
of God.(9) Those who speak either of the Son or of the Holy Spirit as a creatur
e we anathematize. All other things we hold to be objects made, and in subjecti
on,(10) created by God through the Son, (and) sanctified in the Holy Spirit. Fu
rther, we acknowledge that the Son of God was made a Son of man, having taken t
o Himself the flesh from the Virgin Mary, not in name, but in reality; and that
 He is both the perfect Son of God, and the (perfect) Son of man,--that the Per
son is but one, and that there is one worship(11) for the Word and the flesh th
at He assumed. And we anathematize those who constitute different worships, one
 for the divine and another for the human, and who worship the man born of Mary
 as though He were another than the God of God. For we know that "in the beginn
ing was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God."(12) And we
worship Him who was made man on account of our salvation, not indeed as made pe
rfectly like in the like body,(13) but as the Lord who has taken to Himself the
 form of the servant. We acknowledge the passion of the Lord in the flesh, the
resurrection in the power of His divinity, the ascension to heaven, and His glo
rious appearing when He comes for the judgment of the living and the dead, and
for the eternal life of the saints.

XVI.
    And since some have given us trouble by attempting to subvert our faith in
our Lord Jesus Christ, and by affirming of Him that He was not God incarnated,
but a man linked with God; for this reason we present our confession on the sub
ject of the aforementioned matters of faith, and reject the faithless dogmas op
posed thereto. For God, having been incarnated in the flesh of man, retains als
o His proper energy pure, possessing a mind unsubjectcd by the natural(14) and
fleshly affections, and holding the flesh and the fleshly motions divinely and
sinlessly, and not only unmastered by the power of death, but even destroying d
eath. And it is the true God unincarnate that has appeared incarnate, the perfe
ct One with the genuine and divine perfection; and in Him there are not two per
sons. Nor do

45

we affirm that there are four to worship, viz., God and the Son of God, and man
 and the Holy Spirit. Wherefore we also anathematize those who show their impie
ty in this, and who thus give the man a place in the divine doxology. For we ho
ld that the Word of God was made man on account of our salvation, in order that
 we might receive the likeness of the heavenly, and be made divine(1) after the
 likeness of Him who is the true Son of God by nature, and the Son of man accor
ding to the flesh, our Lord Jesus Christ.

XVII.
    We believe therefore in one God, that is, in one First Cause, the God of th
e law and of the Gospel, the just and good; and in one Lord Jesus Christ, true
God, that is, Image of the true God, Maker of all things seen and unseen, Son o
f God and only-begotten Offspring, and Eternal Word, living and self-subsistent
 and active.(2) always being with the Father; and in one Holy Spirit; and in th
e glorious advent of the Son of God, who of the Virgin Mary took flesh, and end
ured sufferings and death in our stead, and came to resurrection on the third d
ay, and was taken up to heaven; and in His glorious appearing yet to come; and
in one holy Church, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the flesh, and
 life eternal.

XVIII.
    We acknowledge that the Son and the Spirit are consubstantial with the Fath
er, and that the substance of the Trinity is one,--that is, that there is one d
ivinity according to nature, the Father remaining unbegotten, and the Son being
 begotten of the Father in a true generation, and not in a formation by will,(3
) and the Spirit being sent forth eternally from the substance of the Father th
rough the Son, with power to sanctify the whole creation. And we further acknow
ledge that the Word was made flesh, and was manifested in the flesh-movement(4)
 received of a virgin, and did not simply energize in a man. And those who have
 fellowship with men that reject the consubstantiality as a doctrine foreign to
 the Scriptures, and speak of any of the persons in the Trinity as created, and
 separate that person from the one natural divinity, we hold as aliens, and hav
e fellowship with none such.(5) There is one God the Father, and there is only
one divinity. But the Son also is God, as being the true image of the one and o
nly divinity, according to generation and the nature which He has from the Fath
er. There is one Lord the Son; but in like manner there is the Spirit, who bear
s over(6) the Son's lordship to the creature that is sanctified. The Son sojour
ned in the world, having of the Virgin received flesh, which He filled with the
 Holy Spirit for the sanctification of us all; and having given up the flesh to
 death, He destroyed death through the resurrection that had in view the resurr
ection of us all; and He ascended to heaven, exalting and glorifying men in Him
self; and He comes the second time to bring us again eternal life.

XIX.
    One is the Son, both before the incarnation and after the incarnation. The
same (Son) is both man and God, both these together as though one; and the God
the Word is not one person, and the man Jesus another person, but the same who
subsisted as Son before was made one with flesh by Mary, so constituting Himsel
f a perfect, and holy, and sinless man, and using that economical position for
the renewal of mankind and the salvation of all the world. God the Father, bein
g Himself the perfect Person, has thus the perfect Word begotten of Him truly.
not as a word that is spoken, nor yet again as a son by adoption, in the sense
in which angels and men are called sons of God, but as a Son who is in nature G
od. And there is also the perfect Holy Spirit supplied(7) of God through the So
n to the sons of adoption, living and life-giving, holy and imparting holiness
to those who partake of Him,--not like an unsubstantial breath(8) breathed into
 them by man, but as the living Breath proceeding from God. Wherefore the Trini
ty is to be adored, to be glorified, to be honoured, and to be reverenced; the
Father being apprehended in the Son even as the Son is of Him, and the Son bein
g glorified in the Father, inasmuch as He is of the Father, and being manifeste
d in the Holy Spirit to the sanctified.

XX.
    And that the holy Trinity is to be worshipped without either separation or
alienation, is taught us by Paul, who says in his Second Epistle to the Corinth
ians: "The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of God, and the communi
on of the Holy Ghost, be with yon all."(9) And again, in that epistle he makes
this explanation: "Now He which stablisheth us with you in Christ, and hath ano
inted us, is God, who hath also sealed us, and given the earnest of the Spirit
in our hearts."(10) And still more clearly

46

he writes thus in the same epistle: "When Moses is read, the veil is upon their
 heart. Nevertheless when it shall turn to the Lord, the veil shall be taken aw
ay. Now the Lord is that Spirit; and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is
liberty. But we all with open face beholding as in a glass the glory of the Lor
d, are changed into the same image, from glory to glory, even as by the Spirit
of the Lord."(1)

XXI.
    And again Paul says: "That mortality might be swallowed up of life. Now He
that hath wrought us for the selfsame thing is God, who also hath given unto us
 the earnest of the Spirit."(2) And again he says: "Approving ourselves as the
ministers of God, in much patience, in afflictions, in necessities."(3) and so
forth. Then he adds these words: "By kindness, by the Holy Ghost, by love unfei
gned, by the word of truth, by the power of God."(4) Behold here again the sain
t has defined the holy Trinity, naming God, and the Word, and the Holy Ghost. A
nd again he says: "Know ye not that ye are the temple of God, and that the Spir
it of God dwelleth in you? If any man defile the temple of God, him shall God d
estroy."(5) And again: "But ye are washed, but ye are justified in the name of
our Lord Jesus, and by the Spirit of our God."(6) And again: "What! know ye not
 that your bodies are the temple of the Holy Ghost which is in you, which ye ha
ve of God?"(7) "And I think also that I have the Spirit of God."(8)

XXII.
    And again, speaking also of the children of Israel as baptized in the cloud
 and in the sea, he says: "And they all drank of the same spiritual drink: for
they drank of that spiritual Rock that followed them, and that Rock was Christ.
"(9) And again he says: "Wherefore I give you to understand, that no man speaki
ng by the Spirit of God calleth Jesus accursed: and that no man can say that Je
sus is the Lord, but by the Holy Ghost. Now there are diversities of gifts, but
 the same Spirit. And there are differences of administrations, but the same Lo
rd. And there are diversities of operations, but it is the same God which worke
th all in all. But the manifestation of the Spirit is given to every man to pro
fit withal. For to one is given by the Spirit the word of wisdom; to another th
e word of knowledge by the same Spirit; to another faith by the sane Spirit; to
 another the gifts of healing by the same Spirit; to another the working of mir
acles; to another prophecy; to another discerning of spirits; to another divers
 kinds of tongues; to another the interpretation of tongues: but all these work
eth that one and the selfsame Spirit, dividing to every man severally as He wil
l. For as the body is one, and hath many members, and all the members of that o
ne body, being many, are one body; so also is Christ. For by one Spirit are we
all baptized into one body."(10) And again he says: "For if he who comes preach
es another Christ whom we have not preached, or ye receive another spirit that
ye have received not, or another gospel which ye have not obtained, ye will rig
htly be kept back."(11)

XXIII.
    Seest thou that the Spirit is inseparable from the divinity? And no one wit
h pious apprehensions could fancy that He is a creature. Moreover, in the Epist
le to the Hebrews he writes again thus: "How shall we escape, if we neglect so
great salvation; which at the first began to be spoken by the Lord, and was con
firmed unto us by them that heard Him; God also bearing them witness, both with
 signs and wonders, and with divers miracles, and gifts of the Holy Ghost?"(12)
 And again he says in the same epistle: "Wherefore, as the Holy Ghost saith, To
day, if ye will hear His voice, harden not your hearts, as in the provocation,
in the day of temptation in the wilderness; when your fathers tempted me, prove
d me, and saw my works forty years. Wherefore I was grieved with that generatio
n, and said, They do always err in their heart; for(13) they have not known my
ways: as I sware in my wrath, that they should not enter into my rest."(14) And
 there, too, they ought to give ear to Paul, for he by no means separates the H
oly Spirit from the divinity of the Father and the Son, but clearly sets forth
the discourse of the Holy Ghost as one from the person of the Father, and thus
as given expression to(15) by God, just as it has been represented in the befor
e-mentioned sayings. Wherefore the holy Trinity is believed to be one God, in a
ccordance with these testimonies of Holy Scripture; albeit all through the insp
ired Scriptures numberless announcements are supplied us, all confirmatory of t
he apostolic and ecclesiastical faith.

47

A FRAGMENT OF THE SAME DECLARATION OF FAITH, ACCOMPANIED BY GLOSSES.(1)

FROM GREGORY THAUMATURGUS, AS THEY SAY, IN HIS SECTIONAL CONFESSION OF FAITH.

    To maintain two natures(2) in the one Christ, makes a Tetrad of the Trinity
, says he; for he expressed himself thus: "And it is the true God, the unincarn
ate, that was manifested in the flesh, perfect with the true and divine perfect
ion, not with two natures; nor do we speak of worshipping four (persons), viz.,
 God, and the Son of God, and man, and the Holy Spirit." First, however, this p
assage is misapprehended, and is of very doubtful import. Nevertheless it bears
 that we should not speak of two persons in Christ, lest, by thus acknowledging
 Him as God, and as in the perfect divinity, and yet speaking of two persons, w
e should make a Tetrad of the divine persons, counting that of God the Father a
s one, and that of the Son of God as one, and that of the man as one, and that
of the Holy Spirit as one. But, again, it bears also against recognising two di
vine natures,(3) and rather for acknowledging Him to be perfect God in one natu
ral divine perfection, and not in two; for his object is to show that He became
 incarnate without change, and that He retains the divinity without duplication
.(4) Accordingly he says shortly: "And while the affections of the flesh spring
, the energy(5) retains the impassibility proper to it. He, therefore, who intr
oduces the (idea of) passion into the energy is impious; for it was the Lord of
 glory that appeared in human form, having taken to Himself the
 human economy."

ELUCIDATION.

(The minister ... to the Gentiles, p. 43.)
    IF St. Peter had been at Rome, St. Paul would not have come there (2 Cor. x
. 16). The two apostles had each his jurisdiction, and they kept to their own "
line of things" respectively. How, then, came St. Peter to visit Rome? The answ
er is clear: unless he came involuntarily, as a prisoner, he came to look after
 the Church of the Circumcision,(1) which was "in his measure;" and doubtless S
t. Paul urged him to this, the Hebrew Christians there being so large a proport
ion of the Church. St. Peter came "at the close of his life," doubtless attende
d by an apostolic companion, as St. Paul was, and Barnabas also (Acts xv. 39, 4
0). Linus probably laboured for St. Paul (in prison) among the Gentile Romans,(
2) and Cletus for St. Peter among Jewish Christians. St. Peter survived all his
 martyred associates, and left Clement in charge of the whole Church. This most
 probable theory squares with all known facts, and reconciles all difficulties.
 Clement, then, was first bishop of Rome (A.D. 65); and so says Tertullian, vol
 iii. p. 258, note 9.
    That compendious but superficial little work, Smith's History of the First
Ten Centuries,(3) justly censures as "misleading" the usage, which it yet keeps
 up, of calling the early bishops of Rome "Popes."(4) The same author utterly m
isunderstands Cyprian's references to Rome as "a principal cathedra," "a root a
nd matrix," etc.; importing into the indefinite Latin a definite article. Cypri
an applies a similar principle, after his master Tertullian (vol. iii. p. 260,
this series), to all the Apostolic Sees, the matrices of Christian churches.

48

ON THE TRINITY.

FRAGMENT FROM THE DISCOURSE.(1)

    GREGORY THAUMATURGUS, Bishop of Neo-Caesareia in Pontus,(2) near successor
of the apostles, in his discourse on the Trinity, speaks thus: --
    I see in all three essentials--substance, genus, name. We speak of man, ser
vant, curator (curatorem),--man, by reason of substance; servant, by reason of
genus or condition; curator, by reason of denomination. We speak also of Father
, Son, and Holy Spirit: these, however, are not names which have only supervene
d at some after period, but they are subsistences. Again, the denomination of m
an is not in actual fact a denomination, but a substance common to men, and is
the denomination proper to all men. Moreover, names are such as these,--Adam, A
braham, Isaac, Jacob: these, I say, are names. But the Divine Persons are names
 indeed: and the names are still the persons; and the persons then signify that
 which is and subsists,--which is the essence of God. The name also of the natu
re signifies subsistence;(3) as if we should speak of the man. All (the persons
) are one nature, one essence, one will, and are called the Holy Trinity; and t
hese also are haines subsistent, one nature in three persons, and one genus. Bu
t the person of the Son is composite in its oneness (unita est), being one made
 up of two, that is, of divinity and humanity together, which two constitute on
e. Yet the divinity does not consequently receive any increment, but the Trinit
y remains as it was. Nor does anything new befall the persons even or the names
, but these are eternal and without time. No one, however, was sufficient to kn
ow these until the Son being made flesh manifested them, saying: "Father, I hav
e manifested Thy name to men; glorify Thou me also, that they may know me as Th
y Son."(4) And on the mount the Father spake, and said, "This is my beloved Son
."(5) And the same sent His Holy Spirit at the Jordan. And thus it was declared
 to us that there is an Eternal Trinity in equal honour. Besides, the generatio
n of the Son by the Father is incomprehensible and ineffable; and because it is
 spiritual, its investigation becomes impracticable: for a spiritual object can
 neither be understood nor traced by a corporeal object, for that is far remove
d from human nature. We men know indeed the generation proper to us, as also th
at of other objects; but a spiritual matter is above human condition, neither c
an it in any manner be understood by the minds of men. Spiritual substance can
neither perish nor be dissolved; ours, however, as is easy to understand, peris
hes and is dissolved. How, indeed, could it be possible for man, who is limited
 on six sides--by east, west, south, north, deep, and sky--understand a matter
which is above the skies, which is beneath the deeps, which stretches beyond th
e north and south, and which is present in every place, and fills all vacuity?
But if, indeed, we are able to scrutinize spiritual substance, its excellence t
ruly would be undone. Let us consider what is done in our body; and, furthermor
e, let us see whether it is in our power to ascertain in what manner thoughts a
re born of the heart, and words of the tongue, and the like. Now, if we can by
no means apprehend things that are done in ourselves, how could it ever be that
 we should understand the mystery of the uncreated Creator, which goes beyond e
very mind? Assuredly, if this mystery were one that could be penetrated by man,
 the inspired John would by no means have affirmed this: "No man hath seen God
at any time."(6) He then, whom no man hath seen at any time,--whom can we recko
n Him to resemble, so that thereby we should understand His generation? And we,
 indeed, without ambiguity apprehend that our soul dwells in us in union with t
he body; but still, who has ever seen his own soul? who has been able to discer
n its conjunction with his body? This one

49

thing is all we know certainly, that there is a soul within us conjoined with t
he body. Thus, then, we reason and believe that the Word is begotten by the Fat
her, albeit we neither possess nor know the clear rationale of the fact. The Wo
rd Himself is before every creature--eternal froth the Eternal, like spring fro
m spring, and light from light. The vocable Word, indeed, belongs to those thre
e genera of words which are named in Scripture, and which are not substantial,-
-namely, the word conceived,(1) the word uttered,(2) and the word articulated.(
3) The word conceived, certainly, is not substantial. The word uttered, again,
is that voice which the prophets hear from God, or the prophetic speech itself;
 and even this is not substantial. And, lastly, the word articulated is the spe
ech of man formed forth in air (aere efformatus), composed of terms, which also
 is not substantial.(4) But the Word of God is substantial, endowed with an exa
lted and enduring nature, and is eternal with Himself, and is inseparable from
Him, and can never fall away, but shall remain in an everlasting union. This Wo
rd created heaven and earth, and in Him were all things made. He is the arm and
 the power of God, never to be separated from the Father, in virtue of an indiv
isible nature, and, together with the Father, He is without beginning. This Wor
d took our substance of the Virgin Mary; and in so far as He is spiritual indee
d, He is indivisibly equal with the Father; but in so far as He is corporeal, H
e is in like manner inseparably equal with us. And, again, in so far as He is s
piritual, He supplies in the same equality (oequiparat) the Holy Spirit, insepa
rably and without limit. Neither were there two natures, but only one nature of
 the Holy Trinity before the incarnation of the Word, the Son; and the nature o
f the Trinity remained one also after the incarnation of the Son. But if any on
e, moreover, believes that any increment has been given to the Trinity by reaso
n of the assumption of humanity by the Word, he is an alien from us, and from t
he ministry of the Catholic and Apostolic Church. This is the perfect, holy, Ap
ostolic faith of the holy God. Praise to the Holy Trinity for ever through the
ages of the ages. Amen.

ELUCIDATION.

    PETAVIUS, to whom the translator refers his readers, may be trusted in poin
ts where he has no theory of his own to sustain, but must always be accepted wi
th caution. The Greek Fathers in this very series, from Justin(2) onward, enabl
e us to put the later terminology to the test of earlier exposition (see exampl
es in the notes to the Praxeas of Tertullian, and consult Dr. Holmes' valuable
note embodied in my elucidations).(2) We may go back to Theophilus for the dist
inction between the <greek>endiaqetos</greek> and the <greek>proforikos</greek>
, the immanent and the uttered Word.(3) Compare Tertullian, also, against Marci
on.(4) Evidences, therefore, are abundant and archaic, indeed, to prove that th
e Ante-Nicene Fathers, with those of the Nicene and the Post-Nicene periods, we
re of one mind, and virtually of one voice.

50

TWELVE TOPICS ON THE FAITH.

WHEREIN IS GIVEN ALSO THE FORMULA OF EXCOMMUNICATION, AND AN EXPLICATION IS SUB
JOINED TO EACH.(1)

TOPIC I.
    IF any one says that the body of Christ is uncreated, and refuses to acknow
ledge that He, being the uncreated Word (God) of God, took the flesh of created
 humanity and appeared incarnate, even as it is written, let him be anathema.

EXPLICATION.
    How could the body be said to be uncreated? For the uncreated is the passio
nless, invulnerable, intangible. But Christ, on rising from the dead, showed Hi
s disciples the print of the nails and the wound made by the spear, and a body
that could be handled, although He also had entered among them when the doors w
ere shut, with the view of showing them at once the energy of the divinity and
the reality of the body.
    Yet, while being God, He was recognised as man in a natural manner; and whi
le subsisting truly as man, He was also manifested as God by His works.(2)

TOPIC II.
    If any one affirms that the flesh of Christ is consubstantial with the divi
nity, and refuses to acknowledge that He, subsisting Himself in the form of God
 as God before all ages, emptied Himself and took the form of a servant, even a
s it is written, let him be anathema.

EXPLICATION.
    How could the flesh, which is conditioned by time, be said to be consubstan
tial(3) with the timeless divinity? For that is designated consubstantial which
 is the same in nature and in eternal duration without variableness.

TOPIC III.
    If any one affirms that Christ, just like one of the prophets, assumed the
perfect man, and refuses to acknowledge that, being begotten in the flesh of th
e Virgin,(4) He became man and was born in Bethlehem, and was brought up in Naz
areth, and advanced in age, and on completing the set number of years (appeared
 in public and) was baptized in the Jordan, and received this testimony from th
e Father, "This is my beloved Son,"(5) even as it is written, let him be anathe
ma.

EXPLICATION.
    How could it be said that Christ (the Lord) assumed the perfect man just li
ke one of the prophets, when He, being the Lord Himself, became man by the inca
rnation effected through the Virgin? Wherefore it is written, that "the first m
an was of the earth, earthy."(6) But whereas he that was formed of the earth re
turned to the earth, He that became the second man returned to heaven. And so w
e read of the "first Adam and the last Adam."(7) And as it is admitted that the
 second came by the first according to the flesh, for which reason also Christ
is called man and the Son of man; so is the witness given that the second is th
e Savior of the first, for whose sake He came down from heaven. And as the Word
 came down from heaven, and was made man, and ascended again to heaven, He is o
n that account said to be the second Adam from heaven.

TOPIC IV.
    If any one affirms that Christ was born of the seed of man by the Virgin, i
n the same manner as all men are born, and refuses to acknowledge that He was m
ade flesh by the Holy Spirit and the holy Virgin Mary, mad became man of the se
ed of David, even as it is written, let him be anathema.

EXPLICATION.
    How could one say that Christ was born of the seed of man by the Virgin, wh
en the holy

51

Gospel and the angel, in proclaiming the good tidings, testify of Mary the Virg
in that she said, "How shall this be, seeing I know not a man?"(1) Wherefore he
 says, "The Holy Ghost shall come upon thee, and the power of the highest shall
 overshadow thee: therefore also that holy thing which shall be born of thee sh
all be called the Son of the Highest."(2) And to Joseph he says, "Fear not to t
ake unto thee Mary thy wife: for that which is conceived in her is of the Holy
Ghost. And she shall bring forth a soil, and they shall call His name Jesus: fo
r He shall save His people from their sins."(3)

TOPIC V.
    If any one affirms that the Son of God who is before the ages is one, and H
e who has appeared in these last times is another, and refuses to acknowledge t
hat He who is before the ages is the same with Him who appeared in these last t
imes, even as it is written, let him be anathema.

EXPLICATION.
    How could it be said that the Son of God who is before the ages, and He who
 has appeared in these last times, are different, when the Lord Himself says, "
Before Abraham was, I am;"(4) and, "I came forth from God, and I come, and agai
n I go to my Father?"(5)

TOPIC VI.
    If any one affirms that He who suffered is one, and that He who suffered no
t is another, and refuses to acknowledge that the Word, who is Himself the impa
ssibie and unchangeable God, suffered in the flesh which He had assumed really,
 yet without mutation, even as it is written,

EXPLICATION.
    How could it be said that He who suffered is one, and He who suffered not a
nother, when the Lord Himself says, "The Son of man must suffer many things, an
d be killed, and be raised again the third day from the dead;"(6) and again, "W
hen ye see the Son of man sitting on the right hand of the Father;"(7) and agai
n, "When the Son of man cometh in the glory of His Father?"(8)

TOPIC VII.
    If any one affirms that Christ is saved, and refuses to acknowledge that He
 is the Saviour of the world, and the Light of the world, even as it is written
,(9) let him be anathema.

EXPLICATION.
    How could one say that Christ is saved, when the Lord Himself says, "I am t
he life;"(10) and, "I am come that they might have life;"(11) and, "He that bel
ieveth on me shall not see death, but he shall behold the life eternal?"(12)

TOPIC VIII.
    If any one affirms that Christ is perfect man and also God the Word in the
way of separation,(13) and refuses to acknowledge the one Lord Jesus Christ, ev
en as it is written, let him be anathema.

EXPLICATION.
    How could one say that Christ is perfect man and also God the Word in the w
ay of separation, when the Lord Himself says, "Why seek ye to kill me, a man th
at hath told you the truth, which I have heard of God?"(14) For God the Word di
d not give a man for us, but He gave Himself for us, having been made man for o
ur sake. Wherefore He says: "Destroy this temple, and in three days I will rais
e it up. But He spake of the temple of His body."(15)

TOPIC IX.
    If any one says that Christ suffers change or alteration, and refuses to ac
knowledge that He is unchangeable in the Spirit, though corruptible(16) in the
flesh,(17) let him be anathema.

EXPLICATION.
    How could one say that Christ suffers change or alteration, when the Lord H
imself says, "I am and change not;(18) again, His soul shall not be left in Had
es, neither shall His flesh see corruption?"(19)

TOPIC X.
    If any one affirms that Christ assumed the man only in part, and refuses to
 acknowledge that He was made in all things like us, apart from sin, let him be
 anathema.

52

EXPLICATION.
    How could one say that Christ assumed the man only in part, when the Lord H
imself says, "I lay down my life, that I might take it again, for the sheep;"(1
) and, "My flesh is meat indeed, and my blood is drink indeed;"(2) and, "He tha
t eateth my flesh, and drinketh my blood, hath eternal life?"(3)

TOPIC XI.
    If any one affirms that the body of Christ is void of soul and understandin
g,(4) and refuses to acknowledge that He is perfect man, one and the same in al
l things (with us), let him be anathema.

EXPLICATION.
    How could one say that the body of the Lord (Christ) is void of soul and un
derstanding? For perturbation, and grief, and distress, are not the properties
either of a flesh void of soul, or of a soul void of understanding; nor are the
y the sign of the immutable Divinity, nor the index of a mere phantasm, nor do
they mark the defect of human weakness; but the Word exhibited in Himself the e
xercise of the affections and susceptibilities proper to us, having endued Hims
elf with our passibility, even as it is written, that "He hath borne our griefs
, and carried our sorrows."(5) For perturbation, and grief, and distress, are d
isorders of soul; and toil, and sleep, and the body's liability to wounding, ar
e infirmities of the flesh.

TOPIC XII.
    If any one says that Christ was manifested in the world only in semblance,
and refuses to acknowledge that He came actually in the flesh, let him be anath
ema.

EXPLICATION.
    How could one say that Christ was manifested only in semblance in the world
, born as He was in Bethlehem, and made to submit to the circumcising of the fl
esh, and lifted up by Simeon, and brought up on to His twelfth year (at home),
and made subject to His parents, and baptized in Jordan, and nailed to the cros
s, and raised again from the dead?
    Wherefore, when it is said that He was "troubled in spirit,"(6) that "He wa
s sorrowful in soul,"(7) that "He was wounded in body,"(8) He places before us
designations of susceptibilities proper to our constitution, in order to show t
hat He was made man in the world, and had His conversation with men,(9) yet wit
hout sin. For He was born in Bethlehem according to the flesh, in a manner meet
 for Deity, the angels of heaven recognising Him as their Lord, and hymning as
their God Him who was then wrapped in swaddling-clothes in a manger, and exclai
ming, "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good-will among men."(1
0) He was brought tip in Nazareth; but in divine fashion He sat among the docto
rs, and astonished them by a wisdom beyond His years, in respect of the capacit
ies of His bodily life, as is recorded in the Gospel narrative. He was baptized
 in Jordan, not as receiving any sanctification for Himself, but as gifting a p
articipation in sanctification to others. He was tempted in the wilderness, not
 as giving way, however, to temptation, but as putting our temptations before H
imself on the challenge of the tempter, in order to show the powerlessness of t
he tempter.
    Wherefore He says, "Be of good cheer, I have overcome the world."(11) And t
his He said, not as holding before us any contest proper only to a God, but as
showing our own flesh in its capacity to overcome suffering, and death, and cor
ruption, in order that, as sin entered into the world by flesh, and death came
to reign by sin over all men, the sin in the flesh might also be condemned thro
ugh the selfsame flesh in the likeness thereof;(12) and that that overseer of s
in, the tempter, might be overcome, and death be cast down from its sovereignty
, and the corruption in the burying of the body be done away, and the first-fru
its of the resurrection be shown, and the principle of righteousness begin its
course in the world through faith, and the kingdom of heaven be preached to men
, and fellowship be established between God and men.
    In behalf of this grace let us glorify the Father, who has given His only b
egotten Son for the life of the world. Let us glorify the Holy Spirit that work
eth in us, and quickeneth us, and furnisheth the gifts meet for the fellowship
of God; and let us not intermeddle with the word of the Gospel by lifeless disp
utations, scattering about endless questionings and logomachies, and making a h
ard thing of the gentle and simple word of faith; but rather let us work the wo
rk of faith, let us love peace, let us exhibit concord, let us preserve unity,
let us cultivate love, with which God is well pleased.
    As it is not for us to know the times or the seasons which the Father hath
put in His own power,(13) but only to believe that there will come an end to ti
me, and that there will be a manifes-

53

tation of a future world, and a revelation of judgment, and an advent of the So
n of God, and a recompense of works, and an inheritance in the kingdom of heave
n, so it is not for us to know how the Son of God became man; for this is a gre
at mystery, as it is written, "Who shall declare His generation? for His life i
s taken from the earth."(1) But it is for us to believe that the Son of God bec
ame man, according to the Scriptures; and that He was seen on the earth, and ha
d His conversation with men, according to the Scriptures, in their likeness, ye
t without sin; and that He died for us, and rose again from the dead, as it is
written; and that He was taken up to heaven, and sat down at the right hand of
the Father, whence He shall come to judge the quick and the dead, as it is writ
ten; lest, while we war against each other with words, any should be led to bla
spheme the word of faith, and that should come to pass which is written, "By re
ason of you is my name(2) continually blasphemed among the nations."(3)

ELUCIDATION.
    THESE "twelve anathemas," as they are called, do evidently refute the Nesto
rians and later heretics. Evidently, therefore, we must assign this document to
 another author. And, as frequent references are made to such tests, I subjoin
a list of OEcumenical or Catholic Councils, properly so called, as follows:--

1. JERUSALEM,            against Judaism,[1]            A.D. 50.
2. NICAEA,                  "    Arianism      (1),[2]  A.D. 325.
3. CONSTANTINOPLE (I.),     "    Semi-Arianism (2),     A.D. 381.
4. EPHESUS,                 "    Nestorianism  (3),     A.D. 431.
5. CHALCEDON,               "    Eutychianism  (4),     A.D. 451.
6. CONSTANTINOPLE (II.),    "    Monophysitism (5),     A.D. 553.
7. CONSTANTINOPLE (III.),   "    Monothelitism (6),[3]  A.D. 680.[4]

    These are all the undisputed councils.The Seventh Council,so called (A.D. 5
37), was not a free council, and was rejected by a free council of the West, co
nvened at Frankfort A.D. 794. Its acceptance by the Roman pontiffs, subsequentl
y, should have no logical force with the Easterns, who do not recognise their s
upremacy even over the councils of the West; and no free council has ever been
held under pontifical authority. The above list, therefore, is a complete list
of all the councils of the undivided Church as defined by Catholic canons. Ther
e has been no possibility of a Catholic council since the division of East and
West. The Council of Frankfort is the pivot of subsequent history, and its fund
amental importance has not been sufficiently insisted upon.

54

ON THE SUBJECT OF THE SOUL.(1)

    You have instructed us, most excellent Tatian,(2) to forward for your use a
 discourse upon the soul, laying it out in effective demonstrations. And this y
ou have asked us to do without making use of the testimonies of Scripture,--a m
ethod which is opened to us, and which, to those who seek the pious mind, prove
s a manner of setting forth doctrine more convincing than any reasoning of man.
(3) You have said, however, that you desire this, not with a view to your own f
ull assurance, taught as you already have been to hold by the Holy Scriptures a
nd traditions, and to avoid being shaken in your convictions by any subtleties
of man's disputations, but with a view to the confuting of men who have differe
nt sentiments, and who do not admit that such credit is to be given to the Scri
ptures, and who endeavour, by a kind of cleverness of speech, to gain over thos
e who are unversed in such discussions. Wherefore we were led to comply readily
 with this commission of yours, not shrinking from the task on account of inexp
erience in this method of disputation, but taking encouragement froth the knowl
edge of your good-will toward us. For your kind and friendly disposition toward
s us will make you understand how to put forward publicly whatever you may appr
ove of as rightly expressed by us, and to pass by and conceal whatever statemen
t of ours yon may judge to come short of what is proper. Knowing this, therefor
e, I have betaken myself with all confidence to the exposition. And in my disco
urse I shall use a certain order and consecution, such as those who are very ex
pert in these matters employ towards those who desire to investigate any subjec
t intelligently.
    First of all, then, I shall propose to inquire by what criterion the soul c
an, according to its nature, be apprehended; then by what means it can be prove
d to exist; thereafter, whether it is a substance or an accident;(4) then conse
quently on these points, whether it is a body or is incorporeal; then, whether
it is simple or compound; next, whether it is mortal or immortal; and finally,
whether it is rational or irrational.
    For these are the questions which are wont, above all, to be discussed, in
any inquiry about the soul, as most important, and as best calculated to mark o
ut its distinctive nature. And as demonstrations for the establishing of these
matters of investigation, we shall employ those common modes of consideration(5
) by which the credibility of matters under hand is naturally attested. But for
 the purpose of brevity and utility, we shall at present make use only of those
 modes of argumentation which are most cogently demonstrative on the subject of
 our inquiry, in order that clear and intelligible(6) notions may impart to us
some readiness for meeting the gainsayers. With this, therefore, we shall comme
nce our discussion.

I.WHEREIN IS THE CRITERION FOR THE APPREHENSION OF THE SOUL.

    All things that exist are either known by sense(7) or apprehended by though
t.(8) And what falls under sense has its adequate demonstration in sense itself
; for at once, with the application, it creates in us the impression(9) of what
 underlies it. But what is apprehended by thought is known not by itself, but b
y its operations.(10) The soul, consequently, being unknown by itself, shall be
 known property by its effects.

II. WHETHER THE SOUL EXISTS.

    Our body, when it is put in action, is put in action either from without or
 from within. And that it is not put in action from without, is manifest from t
he circumstance that it is put in action neither by impulsion(11) nor by tracti
on,(12) like soulless things. And again, if it is put in action from within, it
 is not put in action according to nature, like fire. For fire never loses its
action as long

55

as there is fire; whereas the body, when it has become dead, is a body void of
action. Hence, if it is put in action neither from without, like soulless thing
s, nor according to nature, after the fashion of fire, it is evident that it is
 put in action by the soul, which also furnishes life to it. If, then, the soul
 is shown to furnish the life to our body, the soul will also be known for itse
lf by its operations.

III. WHETHER THE SOUL IS A SUBSTANCE.

    That the soul is a substance,(1) is proved in the following manner. In the
first place, because the definition given to the term substance suits it very w
ell. And that definition is to the effect, that substance is that which, being
ever identical, and ever one in point of numeration with itself, is yet capable
 of taking on contraries in succession.(2) And that this soul, without passing
the limit of its own proper nature, takes on contraries in succession, is, I fa
ncy, clear to everybody. For righteousness and unrighteousness, courage and cow
ardice, temperance and intemperance, are seen in it successively; and these are
 contraries. If, then, it is the property of a substance to be capable of takin
g on contraries in succession, and if the soul is shown to sustain the definiti
on in these terms, it follows that the soul is a substance. And in the second p
lace, because if the body is a substance, the soul must also be a substance. Fo
r it cannot be, that what only has life imparted should be a substance, and tha
t what imparts the life should be no substance: unless one should assert that t
he non-existent is the cause of the existent; or unless, again, one were insane
 enough to allege that the dependent object is itself the cause of that very th
ing in which it has its being, and without which it could not subsist.(3)

IV. WHETHER THE SOUL IS INCORPOREAL.

    That the soul is in our body, has been shown above. We ought now, therefore
, to ascertain in what manner it is in the body. Now, if it is in juxtaposition
 with it, as one pebble with another, it follows that the soul will be a body,
and also that the whole body will not be animated with soul,(4) inasmuch as wit
h a certain part it will only be in juxtaposition. But if again, it is mingled
or fused with the body, the soul will become multiplex,(5) and not simple, and
will thus be despoiled of the rationale proper to a soul. For what is multiplex
 is also divisible and dissoluble; and what is dissoluble, on the other hand, i
s compound;(6) and what is compound is separable in a threefold manner. Moreove
r, body attached to body makes weight;(7) but the soul, subsisting in the body,
 does not make weight, but rather imparts life. The soul, therefore, cannot be
a body, but is incorporeal.
    Again, if the soul is a body, it is put in action either from without or fr
om within. But it is not put in action from without; for it is moved neither by
 impulsion nor by traction, like soulless things. Nor is it put in action from
within, like objects animated with soul; for it is absurd to talk of a soul of
the soul: it cannot, therefore, be a body, but it is incorporeal.
    And besides, if the soul is a body, it has sensible qualities, and is maint
ained by nurture. But it is not thus nurtured. For if it is nurtured, it is not
 nurtured corporeally, like the body, but incorporeally; for it is nurtured by
reason. It has not, therefore, sensible qualities: for neither is righteousness
, nor courage, nor any one of these things, something that is seen; yet these a
re the qualities of the soul. It cannot, therefore, be a body, but is incorpore
al.
    Still further, as all corporeal substance is divided into animate and inani
mate, let those who hold that the soul is a body tell us whether we are to call
 it animate or inanimate.
    Finally, if every body has colour, and quantity, and figure, and if there i
s not one of these qualities perceptible in the soul, it follows that the soul
is not a body.(8)

V. WHETHER THE SOUL IS SIMPLE OR COMPOUND.

    We prove, then, that the soul is simple, best of all, by those arguments by
 which its incorporeality has been demonstrated. For if it is not a body, while
 every body is compound, and what is composite is made up of parts, and is cons
equently multiplex, the soul, on the other hand, being incorporeal, is simple;
since thus it is both uncompounded and indivisible into parts.

VI. WHETHER OUR SOUL IS IMMORTAL.

    It follows, in my opinion, as a necessary consequence, that what is simple
is immortal. And as to how that follows, hear my explanation: Nothing that exis
ts is its own corrupter,(9) else it could never have had any thorough consisten
cy, even from the beginning. For things that are subject to corruption are corr
upted by contraries: wherefore everything that is corrupted is subject to disso
lution; and what is subject to

56

dissolution is compound; and what is compound is of many parts; and what is mad
e up of parts manifestly is made up of diverse parts; and the diverse is not th
e identical: consequently the soul, being simple, and not being made up of dive
rse parts, but being uncompound and indissoluble, must be, in virtue of that, i
ncorruptible and immortal.
    Besides, everything that is put in action by something else, and does not p
ossess the principle of life in itself, but gets it from that which puts it in
action, endures just so long as it is held by the power that operates in it; an
d whenever the operative power ceases, that also comes to a stand which has its
 capacity of action from it. But the soul, being self-acting, has no cessation
of its being. For it follows, that what is self-acting is ever-acting; and what
 is ever-acting is unceasing; and what is unceasing is without end; and what is
 without end is incorruptible; and what is incorruptible is immortal. Consequen
tly, if the soul is self-acting, as has been shown above, it follows that it is
 incorruptible and immortal, in accordance with the mode of reasoning already e
xpressed.
    And further, everything that is not corrupted by the evil proper to itself,
 is incorruptible; and the evil is opposed to the good, and is consequently its
 corrupter. For the evil of the body is nothing else than suffering, and diseas
e, and death; just as, on the other hand, its excellency is beauty, life, healt
h, and vigour. If, therefore, the soul is not corrupted by the evil proper to i
tself, and the evil of the soul is cowardice, intemperance, envy, and the like,
 and all these things do not despoil it of its powers of life and action, it fo
llows that it is immortal.

VII. WHETHER OUR SOUL IS RATIONAL.

    That our soul is rational, one might demonstrate by many arguments. And fir
st of all from the fact that it has discovered the arts that are for the servic
e of our life. For no one could say that these arts were introduced casually an
d accidentally, as no one could prove them to be idle, and of no utility for ou
r life. If, then, these arts contribute to what is profitable for our life, and
 if the profitable is commendable, and if the commendable is constituted by rea
son, and if these things are the discovery of the soul, it follows that our sou
l is rational.
    Again, that our soul is rational, is also proved by the fact that our sense
s are not sufficient for the apprehension of things. For we are not competent f
or the knowledge of things by the simple application of the faculty of sensatio
n. But as we do not choose to rest in these without inquiry,(1) that proves tha
t the senses, apart from reason, are felt to be incapable of discriminating bet
ween things which are identical in form and similar in colour, though quite dis
tinct in their natures. If, therefore, the senses, apart from reason, give us a
 false conception of things, we have to consider whether things that are can be
 apprehended in reality or not. And if they can be apprehended, then the power
which enables us to get at them is one different from, and superior to, the sen
ses. And if they are not apprehended, it will not be possible for us at all to
apprehend things which are different in their appearance from the reality. But
that objects are apprehensible by us, is clear from the fact that we employ eac
h in a way adaptable to utility, and again turn them to what we please. Consequ
ently, if it has been shown that things which are can be apprehended by us, and
 if the senses, apart from reason, are an erroneous test of objects, it follows
 that the intellect(2) is what distinguishes all things in reason, and discerns
 things as they are in their actuality. But the intellect is just the rational
portion of the soul, and consequently the soul is rational.
    Finally, because we do nothing without having first marked it out for ourse
lves; and as that is nothing else than just the high prerogative(3) of the soul
,--for its knowledge of things does not come to it from without, but it rather
sets out these things, as it were, with the adornment of its own thoughts, and
thus first pictures forth the object in itself, and only thereafter carries it
out to actual fact,--and because the high prerogative of the soul is nothing el
se than the doing of all things with reason, in which respect it also differs f
rom the senses, the soul has thereby been demonstrated to be rational.

57

ELUCIDATIONS.

I.
(Substance or accident, p. 54.)
    This essay is "rather the work of a philosopher than a bishop," says Dupin.
 He assigns it to an age when "Aristotle began to be in some reputation,"--a mo
st important concession as to the estimate of this philosopher among the early
faithful. We need not wonder that such admissions, honourable to his candour an
d to his orthodoxy, brought on him the hatred and persecutions of the Jesuits.
Even Bossuet thought he went too far, and wrote against him. But, the whole sys
tem of Roman dogma being grounded in Aristotle's physics as well as in his meta
physics, Dupin was not orthodox in the eyes of the society that framed Aristotl
e into a creed, and made it the creed of the "Roman-Catholic Church." Note, e.g
., "transubstantiation," which is not true if Aristotle's theory of accidents,
etc., is false.(1) It assumes an exploded science.

II.
(Prerogative of the soul, p. 56.)
    If this "Discourse" be worthy of study, it may be profitably contrasted, st
ep by step, with Tertullian's treatises on kindred subjects.(2) That the early
Christians should reason concerning the Soul, the Mind, the immortal Spirit, wa
s natural in itself. But it was also forced upon them by the "philosophers" and
 the heretics, with whom they daily came into conflict. This is apparent from t
he Anti-Marcion(3) of the great Carthaginian. The annotations upon that treatis
e, and those On the Soul's Testimony and On the Soul, may suffice as pointing o
ut the best sources(4) of information on speculative points and their bearings
on theology. Compare, however, Athenagoras(5) and the great Clement of Alexandr
ia.(6)

58

FOUR HOMILIES.(1)

THE FIRST HOMILY.
ON THE ANNUNCIATION TO THE HOLY VIRGIN MARY.(2)

    To-day are strains of praise sung joyfully by the choir of angels, and the
light of the advent of Christ shines brightly upon the faithful. Today is the g
lad spring-time to us, and Christ the Sun of righteousness has beamed with clea
r light around us, and has illumined the minds of the faithful. To-day is Adam
made anew,(3) and moves in the choir of angels, having winged his way to heaven
. To-day is the whole circle of the earth filled with joy, since the sojourn of
 the Holy Spirit has been realized to men. To-day the grace of God and the hope
 of the unseen shine through all wonders transcending imagination, and make the
 mystery that was kept hid from eternity plainly discernible to us. To-day are
woven the chaplets of never-fading virtue. To-day, God, willing to crown the sa
cred heads of those whose pleasure is to hearken to Him, and who delight in His
 festivals, invites the lovers of unswerving faith as His called and His heirs;
 and the heavenly kingdom is urgent to summon those who mind celestial things t
o join the divine service of the incorporeal choirs. To-day is fulfilled the wo
rd of David, "Let the heavens rejoice, and let the earth be glad. The fields sh
all be joyful, and all the trees of the wood before the Lord, because He cometh
."(4) David thus made mention of the trees;(5) and the Lord's forerunner also s
poke of them as trees(6) " that should bring forth fruits meet for repentance,"
(7) or rather for the coming of the Lord. But our Lord Jesus Christ promises pe
rpetual gladness to all those who believe on Him. For He says, "I will see you,
 and ye shall rejoice; and your joy no man taketh from you."(8) To-day is the i
llustrious and ineffable mystery of Christians, who have willingly(9) set their
 hope like a seal upon Christ, plainly declared to us. To-day did Gabriel, who
stands by God, come to the pure virgin, bearing to her the glad annunciation, "
Hail, thou that art highly favoured!(10) And she cast in her mind what manner o
f salutation this might be. And the angel immediately proceeded to say, The Lor
d is with thee: fear not, Mary; for thou hast found favour with God. Behold,(11
) thou shalt conceive in thy womb, and bring forth a son, and shalt call(12) Hi
s name Jesus. He shall be great, and shall be called the Son of the Highest; an
d the Lord God shall give unto Him the throne of His father David, and He shall
 reign over the house of Jacob for ever: and of His kingdom there shall be no e
nd. Then said Mary unto the angel, How shall this be, seeing I know not a man?"
(13) Shall I still remain a virgin? is the honour of virginity not then lost by
 me? And while she was yet in perplexity as to these things, the angel placed s
hortly before her the summary of his whole message, and said to the pure virgin
, "The Holy Ghost shall come upon thee, and the power of the Highest shall over
shadow thee; therefore also that holy thing which shall be born of thee shall b
e called the Son of God." For what it is, that also shall it be called by all m
eans. Meekly, then, did grace make election of the pure Mary alone out of all g
enerations. For she proved herself prudent truly in all things; neither has any
 woman been born like her in all generations. She was not like the primeval vir
gin Eve, who, keeping holiday(14) alone in paradise, with thoughtless mind, ung
uardedly hearkened to the word of the serpent, the author of all evil, and thus
 became

59

depraved in the thoughts of her mind;(1) and through her that deceiver, dischar
ging his poison and refusing death with it, brought it into the whole world; an
d in virtue of this has arisen all the trouble of the saints. But in the holy V
irgin alone is the fall of that (first mother) repaired. Yet was not this holy
one competent to receive the gift until she had first learned who it was that s
ent it, and what the gift was, and who it was that conveyed it. While the holy
one pondered these things in perplexity with herself, she says to the angel, "W
hence hast thou brought to us the blessing in such wise? Out of what treasure-s
tores is the pearl of the word despatched to us? Whence has the gift acquired i
ts purpose(2) toward us? From heaven art thou come, yet thou walkest upon earth
! Thou dost exhibit the form of man, and (yet) thou art glorious with dazzling
light."(3) These things the holy one considered with herself, and the archangel
 solved the difficulty expressed in such reasonings by saying to her: "The Holy
 Ghost shall come upon thee, and the power of the Highest shall overshadow thee
. Therefore also that holy thing which shall be born of thee shall be called th
e Son of God. And fear not, Mary; for I am not come to overpower thee with fear
, but to repel the subject of fear. Fear not, Mary, for thou hast found favour
with God. Question not grace by the standard of nature. For grace does not endu
re to pass under the laws of nature. Thou knowest, O Mary, things kept hid from
 the patriarchs and prophets. Thou hast learned, O virgin, things which were ke
pt concealed till now from the angels. Thou hast heard, O purest one, things of
 which even the choir of inspired men(4) was never deemed worthy. Moses, and Da
vid, and Isaiah, and Daniel, and all the prophets, prophesied of Him; but the m
anner they knew not. Yet thou alone, O purest virgin, art now made the recipien
t of things of which all these were kept in ignorance, and thou dost learn(5) t
he origin of them. For where the Holy Spirit is, there are all things readily o
rdered. Where divine grace is present, all things are found possible with God.
The Holy Ghost shall come upon thee, and the power of the Highest shall; oversh
adow thee. Therefore also that holy thing which shall be born of thee shall be
called the Son of God." And if He is the Son of God, then is He also God, of on
e form with the Father, and co-eternal; in Him the Father possesses all manifes
tation;(6) He is His image in the person, and through His reflection the (Fathe
r's) glory shines forth. And as from the ever-flowing fountain the streams proc
eed, so also from this ever-flowing and ever-living fountain does the light of
the world proceed, the perennial and the true, namely Christ our God. For it is
 of this that the prophets have preached: "The streams of the river make glad t
he city of God."(7) And not one city only, but all cities; for even as it makes
 glad one city, so does it also the whole world. Appropriately, therefore, did
the angel(8) say to Mary the holy virgin first of all, "Hail, thou that art hig
hly favoured, the Lord is with thee;" inasmuch as with her was laid up the full
 treasure of grace. For of all generations she alone has risen as a virgin pure
 in body and in spirit; and she alone bears Him who bears all things on His wor
d. Nor is it only the beauty of this holy one in body that calls forth our admi
ration, but also the innate virtue of her soul. Wherefore also the angels addre
ssed her first with the salutation, "Hail, thou that art highly favoured,(9) th
e Lord is with thee, and no spouse of earth;" He Himself is with thee who is th
e Lord of sanctification, the Father of purity, the Author of incorruption, and
 the Bestower of liberty, the Curator of salvation, and the Steward and Provide
r of the true peace, who out of the virgin earth made man, and out of man's sid
e formed Eve in addition. Even this Lord is with thee, and on the other hand al
so is of thee. Come, therefore, beloved brethren, and let us take up the angeli
c strain, and to the utmost of our ability return the due meed of praise, sayin
g, "Hail,(10) thou that art highly favoured, the Lord is with thee!" For it is
thine truly to rejoice, seeing that the grace of God, as he knows, has chosen t
o dwell with thee--the Lord of glory dwelling with the handmaiden; "He that is
fairer than the children of men "(11) with the fair virgin; He who sanctifies a
ll things with the undefiled. God is with thee, and with thee also is the perfe
ct man in whom dwells the whole fulness of the Godhead. Hail, thou that art hig
hly favoured, the fountain of the light that lightens all who believe upon Him!
 Hail, thou that art highly favoured, the rising of the rational Sun,(12) and t
he undefiled flower of Life! Hail, thou that art highly favoured, the mead(13)
of sweet savour! Hail, thou that art highly favoured, the ever-blooming vine, t
hat makes glad the souls of those who honour thee? Hail, thou that art highly f
avoured!--the soil that, all untilled, bears bounteous fruit: for thou hast bro
ught forth in accordance with the law of nature indeed, as it goes with us, and
 by the set

60

time of practice,(1) and yet in a way beyond nature, or rather above nature, by
 reason that God the Word from above took His abode in thee, and formed the new
 Adam in thy holy womb, and inasmuch as the Holy Ghost gave the power of concep
tion to the holy virgin; and the reality of His body was assumed from her body.
 And just as the pearl(2) comes of the two natures, namely lightning and water,
 the occult signs of the sea; so also our Lord Jesus Christ proceeds, without f
usion and without mutation, from the pure, and chaste, and undefiled, and holy
Virgin Mary; perfect in divinity and perfect in humanity, in all things equal t
o the Father, and in all things consubstantial with us, apart from sin.
    Most of the holy fathers, and patriarchs, and prophets desired to see Him,
and to be eye-witnesses of Him, but did not attaint hereto. And some of them by
 visions beheld Him in type, and darkly; others, again, were privileged to hear
 the divine voice through the medium of the cloud, and were favoured with sight
s of holy angels; but to Mary the pure virgin alone did the archangel Gabriel m
anifest himself luminously, bringing her the glad address, "Hail, thou that art
 highly favoured!" And thus she received the word, and in the due time of the f
ulfilment according to the body's course she brought forth the priceless pearl.
 Come, then, ye too, dearly beloved, and let us chant the melody which has been
 taught us by the inspired harp of David, and say, "Arise, O Lord, into Thy res
t; Thou, and the ark of Thy sanctuary."(3) For the holy Virgin is in truth an a
rk, wrought with gold both within and without, that has received the whole trea
sury of the sanctuary. "Arise, O Lord, into Thy rest." Arise, O Lord, out of th
e bosom of the Father, in order that Thou mayest raise up the fallen race of th
e first-formed man. Setting these things forth,(4) David in prophecy said to th
e rod that was to spring from himself, and to sprout into the flower of that be
auteous fruit, "Hearken, O daughter, and see, and incline thine ear, and forget
 thine own people and thy father's house; so shall the King greatly desire thy
beauty: for He is the Lord thy God, and thou shalt worship Him."(5) Hearken, O
daughter, to the things which were prophesied beforetime of thee, in order that
 thou mayest also behold the things themselves with the eyes of understanding.
Hearken to me while I announce things beforehand to thee, and hearken to the ar
changel who declares expressly to thee the perfect mysteries. Come then, dearly
 beloved, and let us fall back on the memory of what has gone before us; and le
t us glorify, and celebrate, and laud, and bless that rod that has sprung so ma
rvellously from Jesse. For Luke, in the inspired Gospel narratives, delivers a
testimony not to Joseph only, but also to Mary the mother of God, and gives thi
s account with reference to the very family and house of David: "For Joseph wen
t up," says he, "from Galilee, unto a city of Judea which is called Bethlehem,
to be taxed with Mary his espoused wife, being great with child, because they w
ere of the house and family of David. And so it was, that while they were there
, the days were accomplished that she should be delivered; and she brought fort
h her son, the first-born of the whole creation,(6) and wrapped him in swaddlin
g-clothes, and laid him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the
inn."(7) She wrapped in swaddling-clothes Him who is covered with light as with
 a garment.(8) She wrapped in swaddling-clothes Him who made every creature. Sh
e laid in a manger Him who sits above the cherubim,(9) and is praised by myriad
s of angels. In the manger set apart for dumb brutes did the Word of God repose
, in order that He might impart to men, who are really irrational by free choic
e, the perceptions of true reason. In the board from which cattle eat was laid
the heavenly Bread,(10) in order that He might provide participation in spiritu
al sustenance for men who live like the beasts of the earth. Nor was there even
 room for Him in the inn. He found no place, who by His word established heaven
 and earth; "for though He was rich, for our sakes He became poor,"(11) and cho
se extreme humiliation on behalf of the salvation of our nature, in His inheren
t goodness toward us. He who fulfilled the whole administration(12) of unuttera
ble mysteries of the economy(13) in heaven in the bosom of the Father, and in t
he cave in the arms of the mother, reposed in the manger. Angelic choirs encirc
led Him, singing of glory in heaven and of peace upon earth. In heaven He was s
eated at the right hand of the Father; and in the manger He rested, as it were,
 upon the cherubim. Even there was in truth His cherubic throne; there was His
royal seat. Holy of the holy, and alone glorious upon the earth, and holier tha
n the holy, was that wherein Christ our God rested. To Him be glory, honour, an
d power. together with the Father undefiled, and the altogether holy and quicke
ning Spirit, now and ever, and unto the ages of the ages. Amen.

61

THE SECOND HOMILY.
ON THE ANNUNCIATION TO THE HOLY VIRGIN MARY.(1)

DISCOURSE SECOND.

    It is our duty to present to God, like sacrifices, all the festivals and hy
mnal celebrations; and first of all, the annunciation to the holy mother of God
, to wit, the salutation made to her by the angel, "Hail, thou that art highly
favoured!" For first of all wisdom(2) and saving doctrine in the New Testament
was this salutation, "Hail, thou that art highly favoured!" conveyed to us from
 the Father of lights. And this address, "highly favoured,"(3) embraced the who
le nature of men. "Hail, thou that art highly favoured"(3) in the holy concepti
on and in the glorious pregnancy, "I bring you good tidings of great joy, which
 shall be to all people."(4) And again the Lord, who came for the purpose of ac
complishing a saving passion, said, "I will see you, and ye shall rejoice; and
your joy no man taketh from you."(5) And after His resurrection again, by the h
and of the holy women, He gave us first of all the salutation "Hail! "(6) And a
gain, the apostle made the announcement in similar terms, saying, "Rejoice ever
more: pray without ceasing: in everything give thanks."(7) See, then, dearly be
loved, how the Lord has conferred upon us everywhere, and indivisibly, the joy
that is beyond conception, and perennial. For since the holy Virgin, in the lif
e of the flesh, was in possession of the incorruptible citizenship, and walked
as such in all manner of virtues, and lived a life more excellent than man's co
mmon standard; therefore the Word that cometh from God the Father thought it me
et to assume the flesh, and endue the perfect man from her, in order that in th
e same flesh in which sin entered into the world, and death by sin, sin might b
e condemned in the flesh, and that the tempter of sin might be overcome in the
burying(8) of the holy body, and that therewith also the beginning of the resur
rection might be exhibited, and life eternal instituted in the world, and fello
wship established for men with God the Father. And what shall we state, or what
 shall we pass by here? or who shall explain what is incomprehensible in the my
stery? But for the present let us fall back upon our subject. Gabriel was sent
to the holy virgin; the incorporeal was despatched to her who in the body pursu
ed the incorruptible conversation, and lived in purity and in virtues. And when
 he came to her, he first addressed her with the salutation, "Hail, thou that a
rt highly favoured! the Lord is with thee." Hail, thou that art highly favoured
! for thou doest what is worthy of joy indeed, since thou hast put on the vestu
re of purity, and art girt with the cincture of prudence. Hail, thou that art h
ighly favoured! for to thy lot it has fallen to be the vehicle of celestial joy
. Hail, thou that art highly favoured! for through thee joy is decreed for the
whole creation, and the human race receives again by thee its pristine dignity.
 Hail, thou that art highly favoured! for in thy arms the Creator of all things
 shall be carried. And she was perplexed by this word; for she was inexperience
d in all the addresses of men, and welcomed quiet, as the mother of prudence an
d purity; (yet) being a pure, and immaculate, and stainless image(9) herself, s
he shrank not in terror from the angelic apparition, like most of the prophets,
 as indeed true virginity has a kind of affinity and equality with the angels.
For the holy Virgin guarded carefully the torch of virginity, and gave diligent
 heed that it should not be extinguished or defiled. And as one who is clad in
a brilliant robe deems it a matter of great moment that no impurity or filth be
 suffered to touch it anywhere, so did the holy Mary consider with herself, and
 said: Does this act of attention imply any deep design or seductive purpose? S
hall this word "Hail" prove the cause of trouble to me, as of old the fair prom
ise of being made like God, which was given her by the serpent-devil, proved to
 our first mother Eve? Has the devil, who is the author of all evil, become tra
nsformed again into an angel of light; and bearing a grudge against my espoused
 husband for his admirable temperance, and having assailed him with some fair-s
eeming address, and finding himself powerless to overcome a mind so firm, and t
o deceive the man, has he turned his attack upon me, as one endowed with a more
 susceptible mind; and is this word "Hail" (Grace be with thee) spoken as the s
ign of gracelessness hereafter? Is this benediction and salutation uttered in i
rony? Is there not some poison concealed in the honey? Is it not the address of
 one who brings good tidings, while the end of the same is to make me the desig
ner's prey? And how is it that he can thus salute one whom he knows not? These
things she pondered in perplexity with herself, and expressed in words. Then ag
ain the archangel addressed her with the announcement of a joy which all may be
lieve in, and which shall not be taken away, and said to her, "Fear not, Mary,
for thou hast found favour

62

with God." Shortly hast thou the proof of what has been said. For I not only gi
ve yon to understand that there is nothing to fear, but I show you the very key
 to the absence of all cause for fear. For through me all the heavenly powers h
ail thee, the holy virgin: yea rather, He Himself, who is Lord of all the heave
nly powers and of all creation, has selected thee as the holy one and the wholl
y fair; and through thy holy, and chaste, and pure, and undefiled womb the enli
ghtening Pearl comes forth for the salvation of all the world: since of all the
 race of man thou art by birth the holy one, and the more honourable, and the p
urer, and the more pious than any other: and thou hast a mind whiter than the s
now, and a body made purer than any gold, however fine, and a womb such as the
object which Ezekiel saw, and which he has described in these terms: "And the l
ikeness of the living creatures upon the head was as the firmament, and as the
appearance of the terrible crystal, and the likeness of the throne above them w
as as the appearance of a sapphire-stone: and above the throne it was as the li
keness of a man, and as the appearance of amber; and within it there was, as it
 were, the likeness of fire round about."(1) Clearly, then, did the prophet beh
old in type Him who was born of the holy virgin, whom thou, O holy virgin, woul
dest have had no strength to bear, hadst thou not beamed forth for that time(2)
 with all that is glorious and virtuous. And with what words of laudation, then
, shall we describe her virgin-dignity? With what indications and proclamations
 of praise shall we celebrate her stainless figure? With what spiritual song or
 word shall we honour her who is most glorious among the angels? She is planted
 in the house of God like a fruitful olive that the Holy Spirit overshadowed; a
nd by her means are we called sons and heirs of the kingdom of Christ. She is t
he ever-blooming paradise of incorruptibility, wherein is planted the tree that
 giveth life, and that furnisheth to all the fruits of immortality. She is the
boast and glory of virgins, and the exultation of mothers. She is the sure supp
ort of the believing, and the succourer(3) of the pious. She is the vesture of
light, and the domicile of virtue.(4) She is the ever-flowing fountain, wherein
 the water of life sprang and produced the Lord's incarnate manifestation. She
is the monument of righteousness; and all who become lovers of her, and set the
ir affections on virgin-like ingenuousness and purity, shall enjoy the grace of
 angels. All who keep themselves from wine and intoxication, and from the wanto
n enjoyments of strong drink, shall be made glad with the products of the life-
bearing plant. All who have preserved the lamp of virginity unextinguished shal
l be privileged to receive the amaranthine crown of immortality. All who have p
ossessed themselves of the stainless robe of temperance shall be received into
the mystical bride-chamber of righteousness. All who have come nearer the angel
ic degree than others shall also enter into the more real enjoyment of their Lo
rd's beatitude. All who have possessed the illuminating oil of understanding, a
nd the pure incense of conscience, shall inherit the promise of spiritual favou
r and the spiritual adoption. All who worthily observe the festival of the Annu
nciation of the Virgin Mary, the mother of God, acquire as their meet recompens
e the fuller interest in the message, "Hail, thou that art highly favoured!" It
 is our duty, therefore, to keep this feast, seeing that it has tilled the whol
e world with joy and gladness. And let us keep it with psalms, and hymns, and s
piritual songs. Of old did Israel also keep their festival, but then it was wit
h unleavened bread and bitter herbs, of which the prophet says: "I will turn th
eir feasts into afflictions and lamentation, and their joy into shame."(5) But
our afflictions our Lord has assured us He will turn into joy by the fruits of
penitence.(6) And again, the first covenant maintained the righteous requiremen
ts(7) of a divine service, as in the case of our forefather Abraham; but these
stood in the inflictions of pain in the flesh by circumcision, until the time o
f the fulfilment. "The law was given to them through Moses" for their disciplin
e; "but grace and truth" have been given to us by Jesus Christ.(8) The beginnin
g of all these blessings to us appeared in the annunciation to Mary, the highly
-favoured, in the economy of the Saviour which is worthy of all praise, and in
His divine and supra-mundane instruction. Thence rise the rays of the light of
understanding upon us. Thence spring for us the fruits of wisdom and immortalit
y, sending forth the clear pure streams of piety. Thence come to us the brillia
nt splendours of the treasures of divine knowledge. "For this is life eternal,
that we may know the true God, and Jesus Christ whom He hath sent."(9) And agai
n, "Search the Scriptures, for in them ye think ye have eternal life."(10) For
on this account the treasure of the knowledge of God is revealed to them who se
arch the divine oracles. That treasure of the inspired Scriptures the Paraclete
 has unfolded to us this day. And let the tongue of prophecy and the doctrine o
f apostles be the

63

treasure of wisdom to us; for without the law and the prophets, or the evangeli
sts and the apostles, it is not possible to have the certain hope of salvation.
 For by the tongue of the holy prophets and apostles our Lord speaks, and God t
akes pleasure in the words of the saints; not that He requires the spoken addre
ss, but that He delights in the good disposition; not that He receives any prof
it from men, but that He finds a restful satisfaction in the rightly-affected s
oul of the righteous. For it is not that Christ is magnified by what we say; bu
t as we receive benefits from Him, we proclaim with grateful mind His beneficen
ce to us; not that we can attain to what is worthy therein, but that we give th
e meet return to the best of our ability. And when the Gospels or the Epistles,
 therefore, are read, let not your attention centre on the book or on the reade
r, but on the God who speaks to you from heaven. For the book is but that which
 is seen, while Christ is the divine subject spoken of. It brings us then the g
lad tidings of that economy of the Saviour, which is worthy of all praise, to w
it, that, though He was God, He became man through kindness toward man, and did
 not lay aside, indeed, the dignity which was His from all eternity, but assume
d the economy that should work salvation. It brings us the glad tidings of that
 economy of the Saviour worthy of all praise, to wit, that He sojourned with us
 as a physician for the sick, who did not heal them with potions, but restored
them by the inclination of His philanthropy. It brings us the glad tidings of t
his economy of the Saviour altogether to be praised, to wit, that to them who h
ad wandered astray the way of salvation was shown, and that to the despairing t
he grace of salvation was made known, which blesses all in different modes; sea
rching after the erring, enlightening the blinded, giving life to the dead, set
ting free the slaves, redeeming the captives, and becoming all things to all of
 us in order to be the true way of salvation to us: and all this He does, not b
y reason of our goodwill toward Him, but in virtue of a benignity that is prope
r to our Benefactor Himself. For the Saviour did all, not in order that He migh
t acquire virtue Himself, but that He might put us in possession of eternal lif
e. He made man, indeed, after the image of God, and appointed him to live in a
paradise of pleasure. But the man being deceived by the devil, and having becom
e a transgressor of the divine commandment, was made subject to the doom of dea
th. Whence, also, those born of him were involved in their father's liability i
n virtue of their succession, and had the reckoning of condemnation required of
 them. "For death reigned from Adam to Moses."(1) But the Lord. in His benignit
y toward man, when He saw the creature He Himself had formed now held by the po
wer of death, did not turn away finally from him whom He had made in His own im
age, but visited him in each generation, and forsook him not; and manifesting H
imself first of all among the patriarchs, and then proclaiming Himself in the l
aw, and presenting the likeness of Himself(2) in the prophets, He presignified
the economy of salvation. When, moreover, the fulness of the times came for His
 glorious appearing, He sent beforehand the archangel Gabriel to bear the glad
tidings to the Virgin Mary. And he came down from the ineffable powers above to
 the holy Virgin, and addressed her first of all with the salutation, 'Hail, th
ou that art highly favoured." And when this word," Hail, thou that art highly f
avoured," reached her, in the very moment of her hearing it, the Holy Spirit en
tered into the undefiled temple of the Virgin, and her mind and her members wer
e sanctified together. And nature stood opposite, and natural intercourse at a
distance, beholding with amazement the Lord of nature, in a manner contrary to
nature, or rather above nature, doing a miraculous work in the body; and by the
 very weapons by which the devil strove against us, Christ also saved us, takin
g to Himself our passible body in order that He might impart the greater grace(
3) to the being who was deficient in it. And "where sin abounded, grace did muc
h more abound." And appropriately was grace sent to the holy Virgin. For this w
ord also is contained in the oracle of the evangelic history: "And in the sixth
 month the angel Gabriel was sent to a virgin espoused to a man whose name was
Joseph, of the house and lineage of David; and the virgin's name was Mary;"(4)
and so forth. And this was the first month to the holy Virgin. Even as Scriptur
e says in the book of the law: "This month shall be unto you the beginning of m
onths: it shall be the first month among the months of the year to you."(5) "Ke
ep ye the feast of the holy passover to the Lord in all your generations." it w
as also the sixth month to Zacharias. And rightly, then, did the holy Virgin pr
ove to be of the family of David, and she had her home in Bethlehem, and was be
trothed rightfully to Joseph, in accordance with the laws of relationship. And
her espoused husband was her guardian, and possessor also of the untarnished in
corruption which was hers. And the name given to the holy Virgin was one that b
ecame her exceedingly. For she was called Mary, and that, by interpretation, me
ans illumination. And what shines more brightly that the light of

64

virginity? For this reason also the virtues are called virgins by those who str
ive rightly to get at their true nature. But if it is so great a blessing to ha
ve a virgin heart, how great a boon will it be to have the flesh that cherishes
 virginity along with the soul! Thus the holy Virgin, while still in the flesh,
 maintained the incorruptible life, and received in faith the things which were
 announced by the archangel. And thereafter she journeyed diligently to her rel
ation Elisabeth in the hill-country. "And she entered into the house of Zachari
as, and saluted Elisabeth,"(1) in imitation of the angel. "And it came to pass,
 that, when Elisabeth heard the salutation of Mary, the babe leapt with joy in
her womb; and Elisabeth was filled with the Holy Ghost."(1) Thus the voice of M
ary wrought with power, and filled Elisabeth with the Holy Ghost. And by her to
ngue, as from an ever-flowing fountain, she sent forth a stream of gracious gif
ts in the way of prophecy to her relation; and while the feet of her child were
 bound in the womb,(2) she prepared to dance and leap. And that was the sign of
 a marvellous jubilation. For wherever she was who was highly favoured, there s
he filled all things with joy. "And Elisabeth spake out with a loud voice, and
said, Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb. And w
hence is this to me, that the mother of my Lord should come to me? Blessed art
thou among women."(3) For thou hast become to women the beginning of the new cr
eation.(4) Thou hast given to us boldness of access into paradise, and thou has
t put to flight our ancient woe. For after thee the race of woman shall no more
 be made the subject of reproach. No more do the successors of Eve fear the anc
ient curse, or the pangs of childbirth. For Christ, the Redeemer of our race, t
he Saviour of all nature, the spiritual Adam who has healed the hurt of the cre
ature of earth, cometh forth from thy holy womb. "Blessed art thou among women,
 and blessed is the fruit of thy womb." For He who bears all blessings for us i
s manifested as thy fruit. This we read in the clear words of her who was barre
n; but yet more clearly did the holy Virgin herself express this again when she
 presented to God the song replete with thanksgiving, and acceptance, and divin
e knowledge; announcing ancient things together with what was new; proclaiming
along with things which were of old, things also which belong to the consummati
on of the ages; and summing up in a short discourse the mysteries of Christ. "A
nd Mary said, My soul doth magnify the Lord, and my spirit hath rejoiced in God
 my Saviour," and so forth. "He hath holpen His servant Israel in remembrance o
f His mercy, and of the covenant which He established with Abraham and with his
 seed for ever."(5) Thou seest how the holy Virgin has surpassed even the perfe
ction of the patriarchs, and how she confirms the covenant which was made with
Abraham by God, when He said, "This is the covenant which I shall establish bet
ween me and thee."(6) Wherefore He has come and confirmed the covenant with Abr
aham, having received mystically in Himself the sign of circumcision, and havin
g proved Himself the fulfilment of the law and the prophets. This song of proph
ecy, therefore, did the holy mother of God render to God, saying, "My soul doth
 magnify the Lord, and my spirit hath rejoiced in God my Saviour: for He that i
s mighty hath done to me great things, and holy is His name." For having made m
e the mother of God, He has also preserved me a virgin; and by my womb the fuln
ess of all generations is headed up together for sanctification. For He hath bl
essed every age, both men and women, both young men and youths, and old men. "H
e hath made strength with His arm,"(7) on our behalf, against death and against
 the devil, having torn the handwriting of our sins. "He hath scattered the pro
ud in the imagination of their hearts;" yea, He hath scattered the devil himsel
f, and all the demons that serve under him. For he was overweeningly haughty in
 his heart, seeing that he dared to say, "I will set my throne above the clouds
, and I will be like the Most High."(8) And now, how He scattered him the proph
et has indicated in what follows, where he says, "Yet now thou shalt be brought
 down to hell,"(9) and all thy hosts with thee. For He has overthrown everywher
e his altars and the worship of vain gods, and He has prepared for Himself a pe
culiar people out of the heathen nations. "He hath put down the mighty from the
ir seats, and exalted them of low degree." In these terms is intimated in brief
 the extrusion of the Jews and the admission of the Gentiles. For the elders of
 the Jews and the scribes in the law, and those who were richly privileged with
 other prerogatives, because they used their riches ill and their power lawless
ly, were cast down by Him from every seat, whether of prophecy or of priesthood
, whether of legislature or of doctrine, and were stripped of all their ancestr
al wealth, and of their sacrifices and multitudinous festivals, and of all the
honourable privileges of the

65

kingdom. Spoiled of all these boons, as naked fugitives they were cast out into
 captivity. And in their stead the humble were exalted, namely, the Gentile peo
ples who hungered after righteousness. For, discovering their own lowliness, an
d the hunger that pressed upon them for the knowledge of God, they pleaded for
the divine word, though it were but for crumbs of the same, like the woman of C
anaan;(1) and for this reason they were filled with the riches of the divine my
steries. For the Christ who was born of the Virgin, and who is our God, has giv
en over the whole inheritance of divine blessings to the Gentiles. "He hath hol
pen His servant Israel."(2) Not any Israel in general, indeed, but His servant,
 who in very deed maintains the true nobility of Israel. And on this account al
so did the mother of God call Him servant (Son) and heir. For when He had found
 the same labouring painfully in the letter and the law, He called him by grace
. It is such an Israel, therefore, that He called and hath holpen in remembranc
e of His mercy. "As He spake to our fathers, I to Abraham and to his seed for e
ver." In these few words is comprehended the whole mystery of the economy. For,
 with the purpose of saving the race of men, and fulfilling the covenant that w
as made with our fathers, Christ has once "bowed the heavens and come down."(3)
 And thus He shows Himself to us as we are capable of receiving Him, in order t
hat we might have power to see Him, and handle Him, and hear Him when the speak
eth. And on this account did God the Word deem it meet to take to Himself the f
lesh and the perfect humanity by a woman, the holy Virgin; and He was born a ma
n, in order that He might discharge our debt, and fulfil even in Himself(4) the
 ordinances of the covenant made with Abraham, in its rite of circumcision, and
 all the other legal appointments connected with it. And after she had spoken t
hese words the holy Virgin went to Nazareth; and from that a decree of Caesar l
ed her to come again to Bethlehem; and so, as proceeding herself from the royal
 house, she was brought to the royal house of David along with Joseph her espou
sed husband. And there ensued there the mystery which transcends all wonders,--
the Virgin brought forth and bore in her hand Him who bears the whole creation
by His word. "And there was no room for them in the inn."(5) He found no room w
ho founded the whole earth by His word. She nourished with her milk Him who imp
arts sustenance and life to everything that hath breath. She wrapped Him in swa
ddling-clothes who binds the whole creation fast with His word. She laid Him in
 a manger who rides seated upon the cherubim.(6) A light from heaven shone roun
d about Him who lighteneth the whole creation. The hosts of heaven attended Him
 with their doxologies who is glorified in heaven from before all ages. A star
with its torch guided them who had come from the distant parts of earth toward
Him who is the true Orient. From the East came those who brought gifts to Him w
ho for our sakes became poor. And the holy mother of God kept these words, and
pondered them in her heart, like one who was the receptacle of all the mysterie
s. Thy praise, O most holy Virgin, surpasses all laudation, by reason of the Go
d who received the flesh and was born man of thee. To thee every creature, of t
hings in heaven, and things on earth, and things under the earth, offers the me
et offering of honour. For thou hast been indeed set forth as the true cherubic
 throne. Thou shinest as the very brightness of light in the high places of the
 kingdoms of intelligence; where the Father, who is without beginning,, and who
se power thou hadst overshadowing thee, is glorified; where also the Son is wor
shipped, whom thou didst bear according to the flesh; and where the Holy Spirit
 is praised, who effected in thy womb the generation of the mighty King. Throug
h thee, O thou that art highly favoured, is the holy and consubstantial Trinity
 known in the world. Together with thyself, deem us also worthy to be made part
akers of thy perfect grace in Jesus Christ our Lord: with whom, and with the Ho
ly Spirit, be glory to the Father, now and ever, and unto the ages of the ages.
 Amen.(8)

THE THIRD HOMILY.

ON THE ANNUNCIATION TO THE HOLY VIRGIN MARY.(9)

    Again have we the glad tidings of joy, again the announcements of liberty,
again the restoration, again the return, again the promise of gladness, again t
he release from slavery. An angel talks with the Virgin, in order that the serp
ent may no more have converse with the woman. In the sixth month, it is said, t
he angel Gabriel was sent from God to a virgin espoused to a man.(10) Gabriel w
as sent to declare the world-wide salvation: Gabriel was sent to bear to Adam t
he signature of his restoration; Gabriel was sent to a virgin, in order to tran
sform the dishonour of the female sex into honour; Gabriel was sent to

66

prepare the worthy chamber for the pure spouse; Gabriel was sent to wed the cre
ature with the Creator; Gabriel was sent to the animate palace of the King of t
he angels; Gabriel was sent to a virgin espoused to Joseph, but preserved for J
esus the Son of God. The incorporeal servant was sent to the virgin undefiled.
One free from sin was sent to one that admitted no corruption. The light was se
nt that should announce the Sun of righteousness. The dawn was sent that should
 precede the light of the day. Gabriel was sent to proclaim Him who is in the b
osom of the Father, and who yet was to be in the arms of the mother. Gabriel wa
s sent to declare Him who is upon the throne, and yet also in the cavern. The s
ubaltern was sent to utter aloud the mystery of the great King; the mystery, I
mean, which is discerned by faith, and which cannot be searched out by officiou
s curiosity; the mystery which is to be adored, not weighed; the mystery which
is to be taken as a thing divine, and not measured. "In the sixth month Gabriel
 was sent to a virgin." What is meant by this sixth month? What? It is the sixt
h month from the time when Elisabeth received the glad tidings, from the time t
hat she conceived John. And how is this made plain? The archangel himself gives
 us the interpretation, when he says to the virgin: "Behold, thy relation Elisa
beth, she hath also conceived a son in her old age: and this is now the sixth m
onth with her, who was called barren."(1) In the sixth month--that is evidently
, therefore, the sixth month of the conception of John. For it was meet that th
e subaltern should go before; it was meet thai: the attendant should precede; i
t was meet that the herald of the Lord's coming should prepare the way for Him.
 In the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent to a virgin espoused to a man; e
spoused, not united; espoused, yet kept intact. And for what purpose was she es
poused? In order that the spoiler might not learn the mystery prematurely. For
that the King was to come by a virgin, was a fact known to the wicked one. For
he too heard these words of Isaiah: 4, Behold, a virgin shall conceive, and bea
r a son."(2 )And on every occasion, consequently, he kept watch upon the virgin
's words, in order that, whenever this mystery should be fulfilled, he might pr
epare her dishonour. Wherefore the Lord came by an I espoused virgin, in order
to elude the notice of the wicked one; for one who was espoused was pledged in
fine to be her husband's. "In the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent to a v
irgin espoused to a man whose name was Joseph." Hear what the prophet says abou
t this man and the virgin: "This book that is sealed shall be delivered to a ma
n that is learned."(3) What is meant by this sealed book, but just the virgin u
ndefiled? From whom is this to be given? From the priests evidently. And to who
m? To the artisan Joseph. As, then, the priests espoused Mary to Joseph as to a
 prudent husband, and committed her to his care in expectation of the time of m
arriage, and as it behoved him then on obtaining her to keep the virgin untouch
ed, this was announced by the prophet long before, when he said: "This book tha
t is sealed shall be delivered to a man that is learned." And that man will say
, I cannot read it. But why canst thou not read it, O Joseph? I cannot read it,
 he says, because the book is sealed. For whom, then, is it preserved? It is pr
eserved as a place of sojourn for the Maker of the universe. But let us return
to our immediate subject. In the sixth month Gabriel was sent to a virgin -- he
 who received, indeed, such injunctions as these: "Come hither now, archangel,
and become the minister of a dread mystery which has been kept hid, and be thou
 the agent in the miracle. I am moved by my compassions to descend to earth in
order to recover the lost Adam. Sin hath made him decay who was made in my imag
e, and hath corrupted the work of my hands, and hath obscured the beauty which
I formed. The wolf devours my nursling, the home of paradise is desolate, the t
ree of life is guarded by the flaming sword, the location of enjoyments is clos
ed. My pity is evoked for the object of this enmity, and I desire to seize the
enemy. Yet I wish to keep this mystery, which I confide to thee alone, still hi
d from all the powers of heaven. Go thou, therefore, to the Virgin Mary. Pass t
hou on to that animate city whereof the prophet spake in these words: 'Glorious
 things were spoken of thee, O city of God.'(4) Proceed, then, to my rational p
aradise; proceed to the gate of the east; proceed to the place of sojourn that
is worthy of my word; proceed to that second heaven on earth; proceed to the li
ght cloud, and announce to it the shower of my coming; proceed to the sanctuary
 prepared for me; proceed to the hall of the incarnation; proceed to the pure c
hamber of my generation after the flesh. Speak in the ears of my rational ark,
so as to prepare for me the accesses of hearing. But neither disturb nor vex th
e soul of the virgin. Manifest thyself in a manner befitting that sanctuary, an
d hail her first with the voice of gladness. And address Mary with the saturati
on, 'Hail, thou that art highly favoured,' that I may show compassion for Eve i
n her depravation." The archangel heard these things, and considered them withi
n himself, as was reason-

67

able, and said: "Strange is this matter; passing comprehension is this thing th
at is spoken. He who is the object of dread to the cherubim, He who cannot be l
ooked upon by the seraphim, He who is incomprehensible to all the heavenly(1) p
owers, does He give the assurance of His connection with a maiden? does He anno
unce His own personal coming? yea more, does He hold out an access by hearing?
and is He who condemned Eve, urgent to put such honour upon her daughter? For H
e says: 'So as to prepare for me the accesses of hearing.' But can the womb con
tain Him who cannot be contained in space? Truly this is a dread mystery." Whil
e the angel is indulging such reflections, the Lord says to Him: "Why art thou
troubled and perplexed, O Gabriel? Hast thou not already been sent by me to Zac
harias the priest? Hast thou not conveyed to him the glad tidings of the nativi
ty of John? Didst thou not inflict upon the incredulous priest the penalty of s
peechlessness? Didst thou not punish the aged man with dumbness? Didst thou not
 make thy declaration, and I confirmed it? And has not the actual fact followed
 upon thy announcement of good? Did not the barren woman conceive? Did not the
womb obey the word? Did not the malady of sterility depart? Did not the inert d
isposition of nature take to flight? Is not she now one that shows fruitfulness
, who before was never pregnant? Can anything be impossible with me, the Creato
r of all? Wherefore, then, art thou tossed with doubt?" What is the angel's ans
wer to this? "O Lord," he says, "to remedy the defects of nature, to do away wi
th the blast of evils, to recall the dead members to the power of life, to enjo
in on nature the potency of generation, to remove barrenness in the case of mem
bers that have passed the common limit,(2) to change the old and withered stalk
 into the appearance of verdant vigour, to set forth the fruitless soil suddenl
y as the producer of sheaves of corn,--to do all this is a work which, as it is
 ever the case, demands Thy power. And Sarah is a witness thereto, and along wi
th her(3) also Rebecca, and again Anna, who all, though bound by the dread ill
of barrenness, were afterwards gifted by Thee with deliverance from that malady
. But that a virgin should bring forth, without knowledge of a man, is somethin
g that goes beyond all the laws of nature; and dost Thou yet announce Thy comin
g to the maiden? The bounds of heaven and earth do not contain Thee, and how sh
all the womb of a virgin contain Thee?" And the Lord says: "How did the tent of
 Abraham contain me?"(4) And the angel says: "As there were there the deeps of
hospitality, O Lord, Thou didst show Thyself there to Abraham at the door of th
e tent, and didst pass quickly by it, as He who filleth all things. But how can
 Mary sustain the fire of the divinity? Thy throne blazes with the illumination
 of its splendour, and can the virgin receive Thee without being consumed?" The
n the Lord says: "Yea surely, if the fire in the wilderness injured the bush, m
y coming will indeed also injure Mary; but if that fire which served as the adu
mbration of the advent of the fire of divinity from heaven fertilized the bush,
 and did not burn it, what wilt thou say of the Truth that descends not in a fl
ame of fire, but in the form of rain?"(5) Thereupon the angel set himself to ca
rry out the commission given him, and repaired to the Virgin, and addressed her
 with a loud voice, saying: "Hail, thou that are highly favoured! the Lord is w
ith thee. No longer shalt the devil be against thee; for where of old that adve
rsary inflicted the wound, there now first of all does the Physician apply the
salve of deliverance. Where death came forth, there has life now prepared its e
ntrance. By a woman came the flood of our ills, and by a woman also our blessin
gs have their spring. Hail, thou that are highly favoured! Be not thou ashamed,
 as if thou wert the cause of our condemnation. For thou art made the mother of
 Him who is at once Judge and Redeemer. Hail, thou stainless mother of the Brid
egroom(6) of a world bereft! Hail, thou that hast sunk in thy womb the death (t
hat came) of the mother (Eve)! Hail, thou animate temple of temple of God! Hail
, thou equal(7) home of heaven and earth alike! Hail, thou amplest receptacle o
f the illimitable nature!" But as these things are so, through her has come for
 the sick the Physician; for them that sit in darkness, the Sun of righteousnes
s; for all that are tossed and tempest-beaten, the Anchor and the Port undistur
bed by storm. For the servants in irreconcilable enmity has been born the Lord;
 and One has sojourned with us to be the bond of peace and the Redeemer of thos
e led captive, and to be the peace for those involved in hostility. For He is o
ur peace;(8) and of that peace may it be granted that all we may receive the en
joyment, by the grace and kindness of our Lord Jesus Christ; to whom be the glo
ry, honour, and power, now and ever, and unto all the ages of the ages. Amen.

68

THE FOURTH HOMILY.

ON THE HOLY THEOPHANY, OR ON CHRIST'S BAPTISM,(1)
    O ye who are the friends of Christ, and the friends of the stranger, and th
e friends of the brethren, receive in kindness my speech to-day, and open your
ears like the doors of hearing, and admit within them my discourse, and accept
from me this saving proclamation of the baptism(2) of Christ, which took place
in the river Jordan, in order that your loving desires may be quickened after t
he Lord, who has done so much for us in the way of condescension. For even thou
gh the festival of the Epiphany of the Saviour is past, the grace of the same y
et abides with us through all. Let us therefore enjoy it with insatiable minds;
 for insatiate desire is a good thing in the case of what pertains to salvation
--yea, it is a good thing. Come therefore, all of us, from Galilee to Judea, an
d let us go forth with Christ; for blessed is he who journeys in such company o
n the way of life. Come, and with the feet of thought let us make for the Jorda
n, and see John the Baptist as he baptizes One who needs no baptism, and yet su
bmits to the rite in order that He may bestow freely upon us the grace of bapti
sm. Come, let us view the image of our regeneration, as it is emblematically pr
esented in these waters. "Then cometh Jesus from Galilee to Jordan unto John, t
o be baptized of him."(3) O how vast is the humility of the Lord! O how vast Hi
s condescension! The King of the heavens hastened to John, His own forerunner,
without setting in motion the camps(4) of His angels, without despatching befor
ehand the incorporeal powers as His precursors; but presenting Himself in utmos
t simplicity, in soldier-like form,(5) He comes tip to His own subaltern. And H
e approached him as one of the multitude, and humbled Himself among the captive
s though He was the Redeemer, and ranged Himself with those under judgment thou
gh He was the Judge, and joined Himself with the lost sheep though He was the G
ood Shepherd who on account of the straying sheep came down from heaven, and ye
t did not forsake His heavens, and Was mingled with the tares though He was tha
t heavenly grain that springs unsown. And when the Baptist John then saw Him, r
ecognising Him whom before in his mother's womb he had recognised and worshippe
d, and discerning clearly that this was He on whose account, in a manner surpas
sing the natural time, the had leaped in the womb of his mother. in violation o
f the limits of nature, he drew his right hand within his double cloak, and bow
ing his head like a servant full of love to his master, addressed Him in these
words: I have need to be baptized of Thee, and comest Thou to me?(6) What is th
is Thou doest, my Lord? Why dost Thou reverse the order of things? Why seekest
Thou along with the servants, at the hand of Thy servant, the things that are p
roper to servants? Why dost Thou desire to receive what Thou requirest not? Why
 dost Thou burden me, Thy servitor, with Thy mighty condescension? I have need
to be baptized of Thee, but Thou hast no need to be baptized of me. The less is
 blessed by the greater, and the greater is not blessed and sanctified by the l
ess. The light is kindled by the sun, and the sun is not made to shine by the r
ush-lamp. The clay is wrought by the potter, and the potter is not moulded by t
he clay. The creature is made anew by the Creator, and the Creator is not resto
red by the creature. The infirm is healed by the physician, and the physician i
s not cured by the infirm. The poor man receives contributions from the rich, a
nd the rich borrow not from the poor. I have need to be baptized of Thee, and c
omest Thou to me? Can I be ignorant who Thou art, and from what source Thou has
t Thy light, and whence Thou art come? Or, because Thou hast been born even as
I have been,(7) am I, then, to deny the greatness of Thy divinity? Or, because
Thou hast condescended so far to me as to have approached my body, and dost bea
r me wholly in Thyself in order to effect the salvation of the whole man, am I,
 on account of that body of Thine which is seen, to overlook that divinity of T
hine which is only apprehended? Or, because on behalf of my salvation Thou hast
 taken to Thyself the offering of my first-fruits, am I to ignore the fact that
 Thou "coverest Thyself with light as with a garment? "(8) Or, because Thou wea
rest the flesh that is related to me, and dost show Thyself to men as they are
able to see Thee, am I to forget the brightness of Thy glorious divinity? Or, b
ecause I see my own form in Thee, am I to reason against Thy divine substance,
which is invisible and incomprehensible? I know Thee, O Lord; I know Thee clear
ly. I know Thee, since I have been taught by Thee; for no one can recognise The
e, unless He enjoys Thine illumination. I know Thee, O Lord, clearly; for I saw
 Thee spiritually before I beheld this light. When Thou wert altogether in the
incorporeal bosom of the heavenly Father, Thou wert also altogether in the womb
 of Thy handmaid and mother; and I though held in the womb of Elisabeth by natu
re as in a prison, and bound with the indis-

69

soluble bonds of the children unborn, leaped and celebrated Thy birth with anti
cipative rejoicings. Shall I then, who gave intimation of Thy sojourn on earth
before Thy birth, fail to apprehend Thy coming after Thy birth? Shall I, who in
 the womb was a teacher of Thy coming, be now a child in understanding in view
of perfect knowledge? But I cannot but worship Thee, who art adored by the whol
e creation; I cannot but proclaim Thee, of whom heaven gave the indication by t
he star, and for whom earth offered a kind reception by the wise men, while the
 choirs of angels also praised Thee in joy over Thy condescension to us, and th
e shepherds who kept watch by night hymned Thee as the Chief Shepherd of the ra
tional sheep. I cannot keep silence while Thou art present, for I am a voice; y
ea, I am the voice, as it is said, of one crying in the wilderness, Prepare ye
the way of the Lord.(1) I have need to be baptized of Thee, and comest Thou to
me? I was born, and thereby removed the barrenness of the mother that bore me;
and while still a babe I became the healer of my father's speechlessness, havin
g received of Thee from my childhood the gift of the miraculous. But Thou, bein
g born of the Virgin Mary, as Thou didst will, and as Thou alone dost know, did
st not do away with her virginity; but Thou didst keep it, and didst simply gif
t her with the name of mother: and neither did her virginity preclude Thy birth
, nor did Thy birth injure her virginity. But these two things, so utterly oppo
site--bearing and virginity--harmonized with one intent; for such a thing abide
s, possible with Thee, the Framer of nature. I am, but a man, and am a partaker
 of the divine grace; but Thou art God, and also man to the same effect: for Th
ou art by nature man's friend. I have need to be baptized of Thee, and comest T
hou to me? Thou who wast in the beginning, and wast with God, and wast God;(2)
Thou who art the brightness of the Father's glory;(3) Thou who art the perfect
image of the perfect Father;(4) Thou who art the true light that lighteneth eve
ry man that cometh into the world;(5) Thou who wast in the world, and didst com
e where Thou wast; Thou who wast made flesh, and yet wast not changed into the
flesh; Thou who didst dwell among us, and didst manifest Thyself to Thy servant
s in the form of a servant; Thou who didst bridge earth and heaven together by
Thy holy name,--comest Thou to me? One so great to such a one as I am? The King
 to the forerunner? The Lord to the servant? But though Thou wast not ashamed t
o be born in the lowly measures of humanity, yet I have no ability to pass the
measures of nature. I know how great is the measure of difference between earth
 and the Creator. I know how great is the distinction between the clay and the
potter. I know how vast is the superiority possessed by Thee, who art the Sun o
f righteousness, over me who am but the torch of Thy grace. Even though Thou ar
t compassed with the pure cloud of the body, I can still recognise Thy lordship
. I acknowledge my own servitude, I proclaim Thy glorious greatness, I recognis
e Thy perfect lordship, I recognise my own perfect insignificance, I am not wor
thy to unloose the latchets of Thy shoes;(6) and how shall I dare to touch Thy
stainless head? How can I stretch out the right hand upon Thee, who didst stret
ch out the heavens like a curtain,(7) and didst set the earth above the waters?
(8) How shall I spread those menial hands of mine upon Thy head? How shall I wa
sh Thee, who art undefiled and sinless? How shall I enlighten the light? What m
anner of prayer shall I offer up over Thee, who dost receive the prayers even o
f those who are ignorant of Thee?
    When I baptize others, I baptize into Thy name, in order that they may beli
eve on Thee, who comest with glory; but when I baptize Thee, of whom shall I ma
ke mention? and into whose name shall I baptize Thee? Into that of the Father?
But Thou hast the Father altogether in Thyself, and Thou art altogether in the
Father. Or into that of the Son? But beside Thee there is no other Son of God b
y nature. Or into that of the Holy Spirit? But He is ever together with Thee, a
s being of one substance, and of one will, and of one judgment, and of one powe
r, and of one honour with Thee; and He receives, l along with Thee, the same ad
oration from all. Wherefore, O Lord, baptize Thou me, if Thou pleasest; baptize
 me, the Baptist. Regenerate one whom Thou didst cause to be generated. I Exten
d Thy dread right hand, which Thou hast prepared for Thyself, and crown my head
 by Thy touch, in order that I may run the course before Thy kingdom, crowned l
ike a forerunner, and diligently announce the good tidings to the sinners, addr
essing them with this earnest call: "Behold the Lamb of God, that taketh away t
he sin of the world!"(9) O river Jordan, accompany me in the joyous choir, and
leap with me, and stir thy waters rhythmically, as in the movements of the danc
e; for thy Maker stands by thee in the body. Once of old didst thou see Israel
pass through thee, and thou didst divide thy floods, and didst wait in expectat
ion of the passage of the people; but now divide thyself more

70

decidedly, and flow more easily, and embrace the stainless limbs of Him who at
that ancient time did convey the Jews(1) through thee. Ye mountains and hills,
ye valleys and torrents, ye seas and rivers, bless the Lord, who has come upon
the river Jordan; for through these streams He transmits sanctification to all
streams. And Jesus answered and said to him: Suffer it to be so now, for thus i
t becometh us to fulfil all righteousness.(2) Suffer it to be so now; grant the
 favour of silence, O Baptist, to the season of my economy. Learn to will whate
ver is my will. Learn to minister to me in those things on which I am bent, and
 do not pry curiously into all that I wish to do. Suffer it to be so now: do no
t yet proclaim my divinity; do not yet herald my kingdom with thy lips, in orde
r that the tyrant may not learn the fact and give up the counsel he has formed
with respect to me. Permit the devil to come upon me, and enter the conflict wi
th me as though I were but a common man, and receive thus his mortal wound. Per
mit me to fulfil the object for which I have come to earth. It is a mystery tha
t is being gone through this day in the Jordan. My mysteries are for myself and
 my own. There is a mystery here, not for the fulfilling of my own need, but fo
r the designing of a remedy for those who have been wounded. There is a mystery
, which gives in these waters the representation of the heavenly streams of the
 regeneration of men. Suffer it to be so now: when thou seest me doing what see
meth to me good among the works of my hands, in a manner befitting divinity, th
en attune thy praises to the acts accomplished. When thou seest me cleansing th
e lepers, then proclaim me as the framer of nature. When thou seest me make the
 lame ready runners, then with quickened pace do thou also prepare thy tongue t
o praise me. When thou seest me cast out demons, then hail my kingdom with ador
ation. When thou seest me raise the dead from their graves by my word, then, in
 concert with those thus raised, glorify me as the Prince of Life. When thou se
est me on the Father's right hand, then acknowledge me to be divine, as the equ
al of the Father and the Holy Spirit, on the throne, and in eternity, and in ho
nour. Suffer it to be so now; for thus it becometh us to fulfil all righteousne
ss. I am the Lawgiver, and the Son of the Lawgiver; and it becometh me first to
 pass through all that is established, and then to set forth everywhere the int
imations of my free gift. It becometh me to fulfil the law, and then to bestow
grace. It becometh me to adduce the shadow, and then the reality. It becometh m
e to finish the old covenant, and then to dictate the new, and to write it on t
he hearts of men, and to subscribe it with my blood,(3) and to seal it with my
Spirit. It becometh me to ascend the cross, and to be pierced with its nails, a
nd to suffer after the manner of that nature which is capable of suffering, and
 to heal sufferings by my suffering, and by the tree to cure the wound that was
 inflicted upon men by the medium of a tree. It becometh me to descend even int
o the very depths of the grave, on behalf of the dead who are detained there. I
t becometh me, by my three days' dissolution in the flesh, to destroy the power
 of the ancient enemy, death. It becometh me to kindle the torch of my body for
 those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death. It becometh me to ascend
 in the flesh to that place where I am in my divinity. It becometh me to introd
uce to the Father the Adam reigning in me. It becometh me to accomplish these t
hings, for on account of these things I have taken my position with the works o
f my hands. It becometh me to be baptized with this baptism for the present, an
d afterwards to bestow the baptism of the consubstantial Trinity upon all men.
Lend me, therefore, O Baptist, thy right hand for the present economy, even as
Mary lent her womb for my birth. Immerse me in the streams of Jordan, even as s
he who bore me wrapped me m children's swaddling-clothes. Grant me thy baptism
even as the Virgin granted me her milk. Lay hold of this head of mine, which th
e seraphim revere. With thy right hand lay hold of this head, that is related t
o thyself in kinship. Lay hold of this head, which nature has made to be touche
d. Lay hold of this head, which for this very purpose has been formed by myself
 and my Father. Lay hold of this head of mine, which, if one does lay hold of i
t in piety, will save him from ever suffering shipwreck. Baptize me, who am des
tined to baptize those who believe on me with water, and with the Spirit, and w
ith fire: with water, capable of washing away the defilement of sins; with the
Spirit, capable of making the earthly spiritual; with fire, naturally fitted to
 consume the thorns of transgressions. On hearing these words, the Baptist dire
cted his mind to the object of the salvation,(4) and comprehended the mystery w
hich he had received, and discharged the divine command; for he was at once pio
us and ready to obey. And stretching forth slowly his right hand, which seemed
both to tremble and to rejoice, he baptized the Lord. Then the Jews who were pr
esent, with those in the vicinity and those from a distance, reasoned together,
 and spake thus with themselves and with each other: Was it, then, without caus
e that we imagined John to be superior to Jesus? Was it without

71

cause that we considered the former to be greater than the latter? Does not thi
s very baptism attest the Baptist's pre-eminence? Is not he who baptizeth prese
nted as the superior, and he who is baptized as the inferior? But while they, i
n their ignorance of the mystery of the economy, babbled in such wise with each
 other, He who alone is Lord, and by nature the Father of the Only-begotten, He
 who alone knoweth perfectly Him whom He alone in passionless fashion begat, to
 correct the erroneous imaginations of the Jews, opened the gates of the heaven
s, and sent down the Holy Spirit in the form of a dove, lighting upon the head
of Jesus, pointing out thereby the new Noah, yea the maker of Noah, and the goo
d pilot of the nature which is in shipwreck. And He Himself calls with clear vo
ice out of heaven, and says: "This is my beloved Son,"(1) -- the Jesus there, n
amely, and not the John; the one baptized, and not the one baptizing; He who wa
s begotten of me before all periods of time and not he who was begotten of Zach
arias; He who was born of Mary after the flesh, and not he who was brought fort
h by Elisabeth beyond all expectation; He who was the fruit of the virginity ye
t preserved intact, and not he who was the shoot from a sterility removed; He w
ho has had His conversation with you, and not he who was brought up in the wild
erness. This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased: my Son, of the same
substance with myself, and not of a different; of one substance with me accordi
ng to what is unseen, and of one substance with you according to what is seen,
yet without sin. This is He who along with me made man. This is my beloved Son,
 in whom I am well pleased. This Son of mine and this son of Mary are not two d
istinct persons; but this is my beloved Son, -- this one who is both seen with
the eye and apprehended with the mind. This is my beloved Son, in whom I am wel
l pleased; hear Him. If He shall say, I and my Father are one,(2) hear Him. If
He shall say, He that hath seen me hath seen the Father,(3) hear Him. If He sha
ll say, He that hath sent me is greater than I,(4) adapt the voice to the econo
my. If He shall say, Whom do men say that I the Son of man am?(5) answer ye Him
 thus: Thou art the Christ, the Son of the living God.(6) By these words, as th
ey were sent from the Father out of heaven in thunder-form, the race of men was
 enlightened: they apprehended the difference between the Creator and the creat
ure, between the King and the soldier (subject), between the Worker and the wor
k; and being strengthened in faith, they drew near through the baptism of John
to Christ, our true God, who baptizeth with the Spirit and with fire. To Him be
 glory, and to the Father, and to the most holy and quickening Spirit, now and
ever, and unto the ages of the ages. Amen.

ELUCIDATION.

    I CAN do no better than follow Dupin as to the authorship of these Homilies
. He thinks the style of Proclus (of Constantinople) may be detected in them, t
hough the fourth is beyond him for eloquence, and has even been thought worthy
of St. Chrysostom. It was produced after Nicaea, and probably after Ephesus, it
s somewhat exaggerated praises of the <greek>qeotokos</greek> being unusual at
an earlier period. The titles of these Homilies are the work of much later edit
ors; and interpolations probably occur frequently, by the same hands.

72

ON ALL THE SAINTS.(1)

    GRANT thy blessing, Lord.
    It was my desire to be silent, and not to make a public(2) display of the r
ustic rudeness of my tongue. For silence is a matter of great consequence when
one's speech is mean.(3) And to refrain from utterance is indeed an admirable t
hing, where there is lack of training; and verily he is the highest philosopher
 who knows how to cover his ignorance by abstinence from public address. Knowin
g, therefore, the feebleness of tongue proper to me, I should have preferred su
ch a course. Nevertheless the spectacle of the onlookers impels me to speak. Si
nce, then, this solemnity is a glorious one among our festivals, and the specta
tors form a crowded gathering, and our assembly is one of elevated fervour in t
he faith, I shall face the task of commencing an address with confidence.(4) An
d this I may attempt all the more boldly, since the Father(5) requests me, and
the Church is with me, and the sainted martyrs with this object strengthen what
 is weak in me. For these have inspired aged men to accomplish with much love a
 long course, and constrained them to support their failing steps by the staff
of the word;(6) and they have stimulated women to finish their course like the
young men, and have brought to this, too, those of tender years, yea, even cree
ping children. In this wise have the martyrs shown their power, leaping with jo
y in the presence of death, laughing at the sword, making sport of the wrath of
 princes, grasping at death as the producer of deathlessness, making victory th
eir own by their fall, through the body taking their leap to heaven, suffering
their members to be scattered abroad in order that they might hold(7) their sou
ls, and, bursting the bars of life, that they might open the. gates(8) of heave
n. And if any one believes not that death is abolished, that Hades is trodden u
nder foot, that the chains thereof are broken, that the tyrant is bound, let hi
m look on the martyrs disporting themselves(9) in the presence of death, and ta
king up the jubilant strain of the victory of Christ. O the marvel! Since the h
our when Christ despoiled Hades, men have danced in triumph over death. "O deat
h, where is thy sting! O grave, where is thy victory?"(10) Hades and the devil
have been despoiled, and stripped of their ancient armour, and cast out of thei
r peculiar power. And even as Goliath had his head cut off with his own sword,
so also is the devil, who has been the father of death, put to rout through dea
th; and he finds that the selfsame thing which he was wont to use as the ready
weapon of his deceit, has become the mighty instrument of his own destruction.
Yea, if we may so speak, casting his hook at the Godhead, and seizing the wonte
d enjoyment of the baited pleasure, he is himself manifestly caught while he de
ems himself the captor, and discovers that in place of the man he has touched t
he God. By reason thereof do the martyrs leap upon the head of the dragon, and
despise every species of torment. For since the second Adam has brought up the
first Adam out of the deeps of Hades, as Jonah was delivered out of the whale,
and has set forth him who was deceived as a citizen of heaven to the shame of t
he deceiver, the gates of Hades have been shut, and the gates of heaven have be
en opened, so as to offer an unimpeded entrance to those who rise thither in fa
ith. In olden time Jacob beheld a ladder erected reaching to heaven, and the an
gels of God ascending and descending upon it. But now, having been made man for
 man's sake, He who is the Friend of man has crushed with the foot of His divin
ity him who is the enemy of man, and has borne up the man with the hand of His
Christhood,(11) and has made the trackless ether to be trodden by the feet of m
an. Then the angels were

73

ascending and descending; but now the Angel of the great counsel neither ascend
eth nor descendeth: for whence or where shall He change His position, who is pr
esent everywhere, and filleth all things, and holds in His hand the ends. of th
e world? Once, indeed, He descended, and once He ascended,--not, however, throu
gh any change(1) of nature, but only in the condescension(2) of His philanthrop
ic Christhood;(3) and He is seated as the Word with the Father, and as the Word
 He dwells in the womb, and as the Word He is found everywhere, and is never se
parated from the God of the universe. Aforetime did the devil deride the nature
 of man with great laughter, and he has had his joy over the times of our calam
ity as his festal-days. But the laughter is only a three days' pleasure, while
the wailing is eternal; and his great laughter has prepared for him a greater w
ailing and ceaseless tears, and inconsolable weeping, and a sword in his heart.
 This sword did our Leader forge against the enemy with fire in the virgin furn
ace, in such wise and after such fashion as He willed, and gave it its point by
 the energy of His invincible divinity, and dipped it in the water of an undefi
led baptism, and sharpened it by sufferings without passion in them, and made i
t bright by the mystical resurrection; and herewith by Himself He put to death
the vengeful adversary, together with his whole host. What manner of word, ther
efore, will express our joy or his misery? For he who was once an archangel is
now a devil; he who once lived in heaven is now seen crawling like a serpent up
on earth; he who once was jubilant with the cherubim, is now shut up in pain in
 the guard-house of swine; and him, too, in fine, shall we put to rout if we mi
nd those things which are contrary to his choice, by the grace and kindness of
our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory and the power unto the ages of the
ages. Amen.

ELUCIDATION.

    THE feast of All Saints is very ancient in the Oriental churches, and is as
signed to the Octave of Pentecost, the Anglican Trinity Sunday. See Neale, East
ern Church, vol. ii. pp. 734, 753. In the West it was instituted when Boniface
III. (who accepted from the Emperor Phocas the title of "Universal Bishop," A.D
. 607) turned the Pantheon into a church, and with a sort of practical epigram
called it the church of" All the Saints." It was a local festival until the nin
th century, when the Emperor Louis the Pious introduced it into France and Germ
any. Thence it came to England. It falls on the 1st of November.
    The gates of the church at Rome are the same which once opened for the wors
hip of "all the gods." They are of massive bronze, and are among the most inter
esting of the antiquities of the city.
    The modern gates of St. Peter's, at Rome, are offensive copies of heathen m
ythology; and among the subjects there represented, is the shameful tale of Led
a,--a symbol of the taste of Leo X.

74

ON THE GOSPEL ACCORDING TO MATTHEW.(1)

(CHAPTER VI. 22, 23.)

"The light of the body is the eye: if therefore thine eye be single, thy whole
body shall be full of light. But it thine eye be evil, thy whole body shall be
full of darkness. If therefore the light that is in thee be darkness, how great
 is that darkness!"
    THE single eye is the love unfeigned; for when the body is enlightened by i
t, it sets forth through the medium of the outer members only things which are
perfectly correspondent with the inner thoughts. But the evil eye is the preten
ded love, which is also called hypocrisy, by which the whole body of the man is
 made darkness. We have to consider that deeds meet only for darkness may be wi
thin the man, while through the outer members he may produce words that seem to
 be of the light:(2) for there are those who are in reality wolves, though they
 may be covered with sheep's clothing. Such are they who wash only the outside
of the cup and platter, and do not understand that, unless the inside of these
things is cleansed, the outside itself cannot be made pure. Wherefore, in manif
est confutation of such persons, the Saviour says: "If the light that is in the
e be darkness, how great is that darkness!" That is to say, if the love which s
eems to thee to be light is really a work meet for darkness, by reason of some
hypocrisy concealed in thee, what must be thy patent transgressions!

DIONYSIUS

[TRANSLATED BY THE REV. S. D. F. SALMOND, M.A.]

81

THE WORKS OF DIONYSIUS.

EXTANT FRAGMENTS.

PART I.--CONTAINING VARIOUS SECTIONS OF THE WORKS.

I.--FROM THE TWO BOOKS ON THE PROMISES.(1)

    I. But as they produce a certain composition by Nepos,(2) on which they ins
ist very strongly, as if it demonstrated incontestably that there will be a (te
mporal) reign of Christ upon the earth, I have to say, that in many other respe
cts I accept the opinion of Nepos, and love him at once for his faith, and his
laboriousness, and his patient study in the Scriptures, as also for his great e
fforts in psalmody,(3) by which even now many of the brethren are delighted. I
hold the man, too, in deep respect still more, inasmuch as(4) he has gone to hi
s rest before us. Nevertheless the truth is to be prized and reverenced above a
ll things else. And while it is indeed proper to praise and approve ungrudgingl
y anything that is said aright, it is no less proper to examine and correct any
thing which may appear to have been written unsoundly. If he had been present t
hen himself, and had been stating his opinions orally, it would have been suffi
cient to discuss the question together without the use of writing, and to endea
vour to convince the opponents, and carry them along by interrogation and reply
. But the work is published, and is, as it seems to some, of a very persuasive
character; and there are unquestionably some teachers, who hold that the law an
d the prophets are of no importance, and who decline to follow the Gospels, and
 who depreciate the epistles of the apostles, and who have also made large prom
ises(5) regarding the doctrine of this composition, as though it were some grea
t and hidden mystery, and who, at the same time, do not allow that our simpler
brethren have any sublime and elevated conceptions either of our Lord's appeari
ng in His glory and His true divinity, or of our own resurrection from the dead
, and of our being gathered together to Him, and assimilated to Him, but, on th
e contrary, endeavour to lead them to hope(6) for things which are trivial and
corruptible, and only such as what we find at present in the kingdom of God. An
d since this is the case, it becomes necessary for us to discuss this subject w
ith our brother Nepos just as if he were present.
    2. After certain other mailers, he adds the following statement:--Being the
n in the Arsinoitic(7) prefecture--where, as you are aware, this

82

doctrine was current long ago, and caused such division, that schisms and apost
asies took place I in whole churches -- I called together the presbyters and th
e teachers among the brethren in the villages, and those of the brethren also w
ho wished to attend were present. I exhorted them to make an investigation into
 that dogma in public. Accordingly, when they had brought this book before us,
as though it were a kind of weapon or impregnable battlement, I sat with them f
or three days in succession from morning till evening, and attempted to set the
m right on the subjects propounded in the composition. Then, too, I was greatly
 gratified by observing the constancy of the brethren, and their love of the tr
uth, and their docility and intelligence, as we proceeded, in an orderly method
, and in a spirit of moderation, to deal with questions, and difficulties, and
concessions. For we took care not to press, in every way and with jealous urgen
cy, opinions which had once been adopted, even although they might appear to be
 correct.(1) Neither did we evade objections alleged by others; but we endeavou
red as far as possible to keep by the subject in hand, and to establish the pos
itions pertinent to it. Nor, again, were we ashamed to change our opinions, if
reason convinced us, and to acknowledge the fact; but rather with a good consci
ence, and in all sincerity, and with open hearts(2) before God, we accepted all
 that could be established by the demonstrations and teachings of the Holy Scri
ptures. And at last the author and introducer of this doctrine, whose name was
Coracion, in the hearing of all the brethren present, made acknowledgment of hi
s position, and engaged to us that he would no longer hold by his opinion, nor
discuss it, nor mention it, nor teach it, as he had been completely convinced b
y the arguments of those opposed to it. The rest of the brethren, also, who wer
e present, were delighted with the conference, and with the conciliatory spirit
 and the harmony exhibited by all.
    3. Then, a little further on, he speaks of the Revelation of John as follow
s:--Now some before our time have set aside this book, and repudiated it entire
ly, criticising it chapter by chapter, and endeavouring to show it to be withou
t either sense or reason. They have alleged also that its title is false; for t
hey deny that John is the author. Nay, further, they hold that it can be no sor
t of revelation, because it is covered with so gross and dense a veil of ignora
nce. They affirm, therefore, that none of the apostles, nor indeed any of the s
aints, nor any person belonging to the Church, could be its author; but that Ce
rinthus,(3) and the heretical sect founded by him, and named after him the Ceri
nthian sect, being desirous of attaching the authority of a great name to the f
iction propounded by him, prefixed that title to the book. For the doctrine inc
ulcated by Cerinthus is this: that there will be an earthly reign of Christ ; a
nd as he was himself a man devoted to the pleasures of the body, and altogether
 carnal l in his dispositions, he fancied(4) that that kingdom would consist in
 those kinds of gratifications on which his own heart was set,--to wit, in the
delights of the belly, and what comes beneath the belly, that is to say, in eat
ing and drinking, and marrying, and in other things under the guise of which he
 thought he could indulge his appetites with a better grace,(5) such as festiva
ls, and sacrifices, and the slaying of victims. But I, for my part, could not v
enture to set this book aside, for there are many brethren who value it highly.
 Yet, having formed an idea of it as a composition exceeding my capacity of und
erstanding, I regard it as containing a kind of hidden and wonderful intelligen
ce on the several subjects which come under it. For though I cannot comprehend
it, I still suspect that there is some deeper sense underlying the words. And I
 do not measure and judge its expressions by the standard of my own reason, but
, making more allowance for faith, I have simply regarded them as too lofty for
 my comprehension; and I do not forthwith reject what I do not understand, but
I am only the more filled with wonder at it, in that I have not been able to di
scern its import.(6)
    4. After this, he examines the whole book of the Revelation; and having pro
ved that it cannot possible be understood according to the bald, literal sense,
 he proceeds thus:--When the prophet now has completed, so to speak, the whole
prophecy, he pronounces those blessed who should observe it, and names himself,
 too, in the number of the same: "For blessed," says

83

he, "is he that keepeth the words of the prophecy of this book; and I John who
saw and heard these things."(1) That this person was called John, therefore, an
d that this was the writing of a John, I do not deny. And I admit further, that
 it was also the work of some holy and inspired man. But I could not so easily
admit that this was the apostle, the son of Zebedee, the brother of James, and
the same person with him who wrote the Gospel which bears the title according t
o John, and the catholic epistle. But from the character of both, and the forms
 of expression, and the whole disposition and execution(2) of the book, I draw
the conclusion that the authorship is not his. For the evangelist nowhere else
subjoins his name, and he never proclaims himself either in the Gospel or in th
e epistle.
    And a little further on he adds:--John, moreover, nowhere gives us the name
, whether as of himself directly (in the first person), or as of another (in th
e third person). But the writer of the Revelation puts himself forward at once
in the very beginning, for he says: "The Revelation of Jesus Christ, which He g
ave to him to show to His servants quickly; and He sent and signified it by His
 angel to His servant John, who bare record of the Word of God, and of his test
imony, and of all things that he saw."(3) And then he writes also an epistle, i
n which he says: "John to the seven churches which are in Asia, grace be unto y
ou, and peace." The evangelist, on the other hand, has not prefixed his name ev
en to the catholic epistle; but without any circumlocution, he has commenced at
 once with the mystery of the divine revelation itself in these terms: "That wh
ich was from the beginning, which we have heard, which we have seen with our ey
es."(4) And on the ground of such a revelation as that the Lord pronounced Pete
r blessed, when He said: "Blessed art thou, Simon Bar-jona; for flesh and blood
 hath not revealed it unto thee, but my Father which is in heaven."(5) And agai
n in the second epistle, which is ascribed to John, the apostle, and in the thi
rd, though they are indeed brief, John is not set before us by name; but we fin
d simply the anonymous writing, "The elder." This other author, on the contrary
, did not even deem it sufficient to name himself once, and then to proceed wit
h his narrative; but he takes up his name again, and says: "I John, who also am
 your brother and companion in tribulation, and in the kingdom and patience of
Jesus Christ, was in the isle that is called Patmos for the Word of God, and fo
r the testimony of Jesus Christ."(6) And likewise toward the end he speaks thus
: "Blessed is he that keepeth the sayings of the prophecy of this book; and I J
ohn who saw these things and heard them."(1) That it is a John, then, that writ
es these things we must believe, for he himself tells us.
    5. What John this is, however, is uncertain. For he has not said, as he oft
en does in the Gospel, that he is the disciple beloved by the Lord, or the one
that leaned on His bosom, or the brother of James, or one that was privileged t
o see and hear the Lord. And surely he would have given us some of these indica
tions if it had been his purpose to make himself clearly known. But of all this
 he offers us nothing; and he only calls himself our brother and companion, and
 the witness of Jesus, and one blessed with the seeing and hearing of these rev
elations. I am also of opinion that there were many persons of the same name wi
th John the apostle, who by their love for him, and their admiration and emulat
ion of him, and their desire to be loved by the Lord as he was loved, were indu
ced to embrace also the same designation, just as we find many of the children
of the faithful called by the names of Paul and Peter.(7) There is, besides, an
other John mentioned in the Acts of the Apostles, with the surname Mark, whom B
arnabas and Paul attached to themselves as companion, and of whom again it is s
aid: "And they had also John to their minister."(8) But whether this is the one
 who wrote the Revelation, I could not say. For it is not written that he came
with them into Asia. But the writer says: "Now when Paul and his company loosed
 from Paphos, they came to Perga in Pamphylia: and John, departing from them, r
eturned to Jerusalem."(9) I think, therefore, that it was some other one of tho
se who were in Asia. For it is said that there were two monuments in Ephesus, a
nd that each of these bears the name of John.
    6. And from the ideas, and the expressions, and the collocation of the same
, it may be very reasonably conjectured that this one is distinct

84

from that.(1) For the Gospel and the Epistle agree with each other, and both co
mmence in the same way. For the one opens thus, "In the beginning was the Word;
" while the other opens thus, "That which was from the beginning." The one says
: "And the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us; and we beheld His glory, th
e glory as of the Only-begotten of the Father."(2) The other says the same thin
gs, with a slight alteration: "That which we have heard, which we have seen wit
h our eyes, which we have looked upon, and our hands have handled, of the Word
of life: and the life was manifested."(3) For these things are introduced by wa
y of prelude, and in opposition, as he has shown in the subsequent parts, to th
ose who deny that the Lord is come in the flesh. For which reason he has also b
een careful to add these words: "And that which we have seen we testify, and sh
ow unto you that eternal life which was with the Father, and was manifested unt
o us: that which we have seen and heard declare we unto you."(4) Thus he keeps
to himself, and does not diverge inconsistently from his subjects, but goes thr
ough them all under the same heads and in the same phraseologies, some of which
 we shall briefly mention. Thus the attentive reader will find the phrases, "th
e life," "the light," occurring often in both; and also such expressions as fle
eing from darkness, holding the truth, grace, joy, the flesh and the blood of t
he Lord, the judgment, the remission of sins, the love of God toward us, the co
mmandment of love an our side toward each other; as also, that we ought to keep
 all the commandments, the conviction of the world, of the devil, of Antichrist
, the promise of the Holy Spirit, the adoption of God, the faith required of us
 in all things, the Father and the Son, named as such everywhere. And altogethe
r, through their whole course, it will be evident that the Gospel and the Epist
le are distinguished by one and the same character of writing. But the Revelati
on is totally different, and altogether distinct from this; and I might almost
say that it does not even come near it, or border upon it. Neither does it cont
ain a syllable in common with these other books. Nay more, the Epistle--for I s
ay nothing of the Gospel--does not make any mention or evince any notion of the
 Revelation and the Revelation, in like manner, gives no note of the Epistle. W
hereas Paul gives some indication of his revelations in his epistles; which rev
elations, however, he has not recorded in writing by themselves.
    7. And furthermore, on the ground of difference in diction, it is possible
to prove a distinction between the Gospel and the Epistle on the one hand, and
the Revelation on the other. For the former are written not only without actual
 error as regards the Greek language, but also with the greatest elegance, both
 in their expressions and in their reasonings, and in the whole structure of th
eir style. They are very far indeed from betraying any barbarism or solecism, o
r any sort of vulgarism, in their diction. For, as might be presumed, the write
r possessed the gift of both kinds of discourse,(5) the Lord having bestowed bo
th these capacities upon him, viz., that of knowledge and that of expression. T
hat the author of the latter, however, saw a revelation, and received knowledge
 and prophecy, I do not deny. Only I perceive that his dialect and language are
 not of the exact Greek type, and that he employs barbarous idioms, and in some
 places also solecisms. These, however, we are under no necessity of seeking ou
t at present. And I would not have any one suppose that I have said these thing
s in the spirit of ridicule; for I have done so only with the purpose of settin
g right this matter of the dissimilarity subsisting between these writings.(6)

II.--FROM THE BOOKS ON NATURE.(7)

I. IN OPPOSITION TO THOSE OF THE SCHOOL OF EPICURUS WHO DENY THE EXISTENCE OF A
 PROVIDENCE, AND REFER THE CONSTITUTION OF THE UNIVERSE TO ATOMIC BODIES.

    Is the universe one coherent whole, as it seems to be in our own judgment,
as well as in that of the wisest of the Greek philosophers, such as Plato and P
ythagoras, and the Stoics and Heraclitus? or is it a duality, as some may possi
bly

85

have conjectured? or is it indeed something manifold and infinite, as has been
the opinion of certain others who, with a variety of mad speculations and fanci
ful usages of terms, have sought to divide and resolve the essential matter(1)
of the universe, and lay down the position that it is infinite and unoriginated
, and without the sway of Providence?(2) For there are those who, giving the na
me of atoms to certain imperishable and most minute bodies which are supposed t
o be infinite in number, and positing also the existence of a certain vacant sp
ace of an unlimited vastness, allege that these atoms, as they are borne along
casually in the void, and clash all fortuitously against each other in an unreg
ulated whirl, and become commingled one with another in a multitude of forms, e
nter into combination with each other, and thus gradually form this world and a
ll objects in it; yea, more, that they construct infinite worlds. This was the
opinion of Epicurus and Democritus; only they differed in one point, in so far
as the former supposed these atoms to be all most minute and consequently imper
ceptible, while Democritus held that there were also some among them of a very
large size. But they both hold that such atoms do exist, and that they are so c
alled on account of their indissoluble consistency. There are some, again, who
give the name of atoms to certain bodies which are indivisible into parts, whil
e they are themselves parts of the universe, out of which in their undivided st
ate all things are made up, and into which they are dissolved again. And the al
legation is, that Diodorus was the person who gave them their names as bodies i
ndivisible into parts.(3) But it is also said that Heraclides attached another
name to them, and called them "weights;"(4) and from him the physician Asclepia
des also derived that name.(5)

II. A REFUTATION OF THIS DOGMA ON THE GROUND OF FAMILIAR HUMAN ANALOGIES.
    How, shall we bear with these men who assert that all those wise, and conse
quently also noble, constructions (in the universe) are only the works of commo
n chance? those objects, I mean, of which each taken by itself as it is made, a
nd the whole system collectively, were seen to be good by Him by whose command
they came into existence. For, as it is said, "God saw everything that He had m
ade, and, behold, it was very good."(6) But truly these men do not reflect on(7
) the analogies even of small familiar things which might come under their obse
rvation at any time, and from which they might learn that no object of any util
ity, and fitted to be serviceable, is made without design or by mere chance, bu
t is wrought by skill of hand, and is contrived so as to meet its proper use. A
nd when the object falls out of service and becomes useless, then it also begin
s to break up indeterminately, and to decompose and dissipate its materials in
every casual and unregulated way, just as the wisdom by which it was skilfully
constructed at first no longer controls and maintains it. For a cloak, for exam
ple, cannot be made without the weaver, as if the warp could be set aright and
the woof could be entwined with it by their own spontaneous action; while, on t
he other hand, if it is once worn out, its tattered rags are flung aside. Again
, when a house or a city is built, it does not take on its stones, as if some o
f them placed themselves spontaneously upon the foundations, and others lifted
themselves up on the several layers, but the builder carefully disposes the ski
lfully prepared stones in their proper positions; while if the structure happen
s once to give way, the stones are separated and cast down and scattered about.
 And so, too, when a ship is built, the keel does not lay itself, neither does
the mast erect itself in the centre, nor do all the other timbers take up their
 positions casually and by their own motion. Nor, again, do the so-called hundr
ed beams in the wain fit themselves spontaneously to the vacant spaces they sev
erally light on. But the carpenter in both cases puts the materials together in
 the right way and at the right time.(8) And if the ship goes to sea and is wre
cked, or if the wain drives along on land and is shattered, their timbers are b
roken up and cast abroad anywhere,--those of the former by the waves, and those
 of the latter by the violence of the impetus. In like manner, then, we might w
ith all propriety say also to these men, that those atoms of theirs, which rema
in idle and unmanipulated and useless, are introduced vainly. Let them, accordi
ngly, seek for themselves to see into what is beyond the reach of sight, and co
nceive what is beyond the range of conception;(9) unlike him who in these terms
 confesses to God that things like these had been shown him only by God Himself
: "Mine

86

eyes did see Thy work, being till then imperfect."(1) But when they assert now
that all those things of grace and beauty, which they declare to be textures fi
nely wrought out of atoms, are fabricated spontaneously by these bodies without
 either wisdom or perception in them, who can endure to hear(2) them talk in su
ch terms of those unregulated(3) atoms, than which even the spider, that plies
its proper craft of itself, is gifted with more sagacity?

III. A REFUTATION ON THE GROUND OF THE CONSTITUTION OF THE UNIVERSE.

    Or who can bear to hear it maintained, that this mighty habitation, which i
s constituted of heaven and earth, and which is called "Cosmos" on account of t
he magnitude and the plenitude of the wisdom which has been brought to bear upo
n it, has been established in all its order and beauty by those atoms which hol
d their course devoid of order and beauty, and that that same state of disorder
 has grown into this true Cosmos, Order? Or who can believe that those regular
movements and courses are the products of a certain unregulated impetus? Or who
 can allow that the perfect concord subsisting among the celestial bodies deriv
es its harmony from instruments destitute both of concord and harmony? Or, agai
n, if there is but one and the same substance(4) in all things, and if there is
 the same incorruptible nature(5) in all,--the only elements of difference bein
g, as they aver, size and figure,--how comes it that there are some bodies divi
ne and perfect,(6) and eternal,(7) as they would phrase it, or lasting,(8) as s
ome one may prefer to express it; and among these some that are visible and oth
ers that are invisible,--the visible including such as sun, and moon, and stars
, and earth, and water; and the invisible including gods, and demons, and spiri
ts? For the existence of such they cannot possibly deny however desirous to do
so. And again, there are other objects that are long-lived, both animals and pl
ants. As to animals, there are, for example, among birds, as they say, the eagl
e, the raven, and the phoenix; and among creatures living on land, there are th
e stag, and the elephant, and the dragon; and among aquatic creatures there are
 the whales, and such like monsters of the deep. And as to trees, there are the
 palm, and the oak, and the persea;(9) and among trees, too, there are some tha
t are evergreens, of which kind fourteen have been reckoned up by some one; and
 there are others that only bloom for a certain season, and then shed their lea
ves. And there are other objects, again--which indeed constitute the vast mass
of all which either grow or are begotten--that have an early death and a brief
life. And among these is man himself, as a certain holy scripture says of him:
"Man that is born of woman is of few days."(10) Well, but I suppose they will r
eply that the varying conjunctions of the atoms account fully for differences(1
1) so great in the matter of duration. For it is maintained that there are some
 things that are compressed together by them, and firmly interlaced, so that th
ey become closely compacted bodies, and consequently exceedingly hard to break
up; while there are others in which more or less the conjunction of the atoms i
s of a looser and weaker nature, so that either quickly or after some time they
 separate themselves from their orderly constitution. And, again, there are som
e bodies made up of atoms of a definite kind and a certain common figure, while
 there are others made up of diverse atoms diversely disposed. But who, then, i
s the sagacious discriminator,(12) that brings certain atoms into collocation,
and separates others; and marshals some in such wise as to form the sun, and ot
hers in such a way as to originate the moon, and adapts all in natural fitness,
 and in accordance with the proper constitution of each star? For surely neithe
r would those solar atoms, with their peculiar size and kind, and with their sp
ecial mode of collocation, ever have reduced themselves so as to effect the pro
duction of a moon; nor, on the other hand, would the conjunctions of these luna
r atoms ever have developed into a sun. And as certainly neither would Arcturus
, resplendent as he is, ever boast his having the atoms possessed by Lucifer, n
or would the Pleiades glory in being constituted of those of Orion. For well ha
s Paul expressed the distinction when he says: "There is one glory of the sun,
and another glory of the moon, and another glory of the stars: for one star dif
fereth from another star in glory."(13) And if the coalition effected among the
m has been an unintelligent one, as is the case with soulless(14) objects,

87

then they must needs have had some sagacious artificer; and if their union has
been one without the determination of will, and only of necessity, as is the ca
se with irrational objects, then some skilful leader(1) must have brought them
together and taken them under his charge. And if they have linked themselves to
gether spontaneously, for a spontaneous work, then some admirable architect mus
t have apportioned their work for them, and assumed the superintendence among t
hem; or there must have been one to do with them as the general does who loves
order and discipline, and who does not leave his army in an irregular condition
, or suffer all things to go on confusedly, but marshals the cavalry in their p
roper succession, and disposes the heavy-armed infantry in their due array, and
 the javelin-men by themselves, and the archers separately, and the slingers in
 like manner, and sets each force in its appropriate position, in order that al
l those equipped in the same way may engage together. But if these teachers thi
nk that this illustration is but a joke, because I institute a comparison betwe
en very large bodies and very small, we may pass to the very smallest.
    Then we have what follows:--But if neither the word, nor the choice, nor th
e order of a ruler is laid upon them, and if by their own act they keep themsel
ves right in the vast commotion of the stream in which they move, and convey th
emselves safely through the mighty uproar of the collisions, and if like atoms
meet and group themselves with like, not as being brought together by God, acco
rding to the poet's fancy, but rather as naturally recognising the affinities s
ubsisting between each other, then truly we have here a most marvellous democra
cy of atoms, wherein friends welcome and embrace friends, and all are eager to
sojourn together in one domicile; while some by their own determination have ro
unded themselves off into that mighty luminary the sun, so as to make day; and
others have formed themselves into many pyramids of blazing stars, it may be, s
o as to crown also the whole heavens; and others have reduced themselves into t
he circular figure, so as to impart a certain solidity to the ether, and arch i
t over, and constitute it a vast graduated ascent of luminaries, with this obje
ct also, that the various conventions of the commoner atoms may select settleme
nts for themselves, and portion out the sky among them for their habitations an
d stations.
    Then, after certain other matters, the discourse proceeds thus:--But incons
iderate men do not see even things that are apparent, and certainly they are fa
r from being cognisant of things that are unapparent. For they do not seem even
 to have any notion of those regulated risings and settings of the heavenly bod
ies,--those of the sun, with all their wondrous glory, no less than those of th
e others; nor do they appear to make due application of the aids furnished thro
ugh these to men, such as the day that rises clear for man's work, and the nigh
t that overshadows earth for man's rest. "For man," it is said, "goeth forth un
to his work, and to his labour, until the evening."(2) Neither do they consider
 that other revolution, by which the sun makes out for us determinate times, an
d convenient seasons, and regular successions, directed by those atoms of which
 it consists. But even though men like these--and miserable men they are, howev
er they may believe themselves to be righteous--may choose not to admit it, the
re is a mighty Lord that made the sun, and gave it the impetus(3) for its cours
e by His words. O ye blind ones, do these atoms of yours bring you the winter s
eason and the rains, in order that the earth may yield food for you, and for al
l creatures living on it? Do they introduce summertime, too, in order that ye m
ay gather their fruits from the trees for your enjoyment? And why, then, do ye
not worship these atoms, and offer sacrifices to them as the guardians of earth
's fruits?(4) Thankless surely are ye, in not setting solemnly apart for them e
ven the most scanty first-fruits of that abundant bounty which ye receive from
them.
    After a short break he proceeds thus:--Moreover, those stars which form a c
ommunity so multitudinous and various, which these erratic and ever self-disper
sing atoms have constituted, have marked off by a kind of covenant the tracts f
or their several possessions, portioning these out like colonies and government
s, but without the presidency of any founder or house-master; and with pledged
fealty and in peace they respect the laws of vicinity with their neighbours, an
d abstain from passing beyond the boundaries which they received at the outset,
 just as if they enjoyed the legislative administration of true princes in the
atoms. Nevertheless these atoms exercise no rule. For how could these, that are
 themselves nothing, do that? But listen to the divine oracles: "The works of t
he Lord are in judgment; from the beginning, and from His making of them, He di
sposed the parts thereof. He garnished His works for ever, and their principles
 s unto their generations."(6)
    Again, after a little, he proceeds thus:--Or what phalanx ever traversed th
e plain in such perfect order, no trooper outmarching the others, or falling ou
t of rank, or obstructing the course,

88

or suffering himself to be distanced by his comrades in the array, as is the ca
se with that steady advance in regular file, as it were, and with close-set shi
elds, which is presented by this serried and unbroken and undisturbed and unobs
tructed progress of the hosts of the stars? Albeit by side inclinations and fla
nk movements certain of their revolutions become less clear. Yet, however that
may be, they assuredly always keep their appointed periods, and again bear onwa
rd determinately to the positions from which they have severally risen, as if t
hey made that their deliberate study. Wherefore let these notable anatomizers o
f atoms,(1) these dividers of the indivisible, these compounders of the uncompo
undable, these adepts in the apprehension of the infinite, tell us whence comes
 this circular march and course of the heavenly bodies, in which it is not any
single combination of atoms that merely chances all unexpectedly to swing itsel
f round in this way;(2) but it is one vast circular choir that moves thus, ever
 equally and concordantly, and whirls in these orbits. And whence comes it that
 this mighty multitude of fellow-travellers, all unmarshalled by any captain, a
ll ungifted with any determination of will, and all unendowed with any knowledg
e of each other, have nevertheless held their course in perfect harmony? Surely
, well has the prophet ranked this matter among things which are impossible and
 undemonstrable,--namely, that two strangers should walk together. For he says,
 "Shall two come to the same lodging unless they know each other?"(3)

IV. A REFUTATION OF THE SAME ON THE GROUNDS
OF THE HUMAN CONSTITUTION.

    Further, those men understand neither themselves nor what is proper to them
selves. For if any of the leaders in this impious doctrine only considered what
 manner of person he is himself, and whence he comes, he would surely be led to
 a wise decision, like one who has obtained understanding of himself, and would
 say, not to these atoms, but to his Father and Maker, "Thy hands have made me
and fashioned me."(4) And he would take up, too, this wonderful account of his
formation as it has been given by one of old: "Hast Thou not poured me out as m
ilk, and curdled me as choose? Thou hast clothed me with skin and flesh, and ha
st fenced me with bones and sinews. Thou hast granted me life and favour, and T
hy visitation hath preserved my spirit."(5) For of what quantity and of what or
igin were the atoms which the father of Epicurus gave forth from himself when h
e begat Epicurus? And how, when they were received within his mother's womb, di
d they coalesce, and take form and figure? and how were they put in motion and
made to increase? And how did that little seed of generation draw together the
many atoms that were to constitute Epicurus, and change some of them into skin
and flesh for a covering, and make bone of others for erectness and strength, a
nd form sinews of others for compact contexture? And how did it frame and adapt
 the many other members and parts--heart and bowels, and organs of sense, some
within and some without--by which the body is made a thing of life? For of all
these things there is not one either idle or useless: not even the meanest of t
hem--the hair, or the nails, or such like--is so; but all have their service to
 do, and all their contribution to make, some of them to the soundness of bodil
y constitution, and others of them to beauty of appearance. For Providence care
s not only for the useful, but also for the seasonable and beautiful.(6) Thus t
he hair is a kind of protection and covering for the whole head, and the beard
is a seemly ornament for the philosopher. It was Providence, then, that formed
the constitution of the whole body of man, in all its necessary parts, and impo
sed on all its members their due connection with each other, and measured out f
or them their liberal supplies from the universal resources. And the most promi
nent of these show clearly, even to the uninstructed, by the proof of personal
experience, the value and service attaching to them: the head, for example, in
the position of supremacy, and the senses set like a guard about the brain, as
the ruler in the citadel; and the advancing eyes, and the reporting ears; and t
he taste which, as it were, is the tribute-gatherer;(7) and the smell, which tr
acks and searches out its objects: and the touch, which manipulates all put und
er it.
    Hence we shall only run over in a summary way, at present, some few of the
works of an all-wise Providence; and after a little we shall, if God grant it,
go over them more minutely, when we direct our discourse toward one who has the
 repute of greater learning. So, then, we have the ministry of the hands, by wh
ich all kinds of works are wrought, and all skilful professions practised, and
which have all their various faculties furnished them, with a view to the disch
arge of one common function; and we have the shoulders, with their capacity for
 bearing burdens; and the fingers, with their power

89

of grasping; and the elbows, with their faculty of bending, by which they can t
urn inwardly, upon the body, or take an outward inclination, so as to be able e
ither to draw objects toward the body, or to thrust them away from it. We have
also the service of the feet, by which the whole terrestrial creation is made t
o come under our power, the earth itself is traversed thereby, the sea is made
navigable, the rivers are crossed, and intercourse is established for all with
all things. The belly, too, is the storehouse of meats, with all its parts arra
nged in their proper collocations, so that it apportions for itself the right m
easure of aliment, and ejects what is over and above that. And so is it with al
l the other things by which manifestly the due administration of the constituti
on of man is wisely secured.(1) Of all these, the intelligent and the unintelli
gent alike enjoy the same use; but they have not the same comprehension of them
.(2) For there are some who refer this whole economy to a power which they conc
eive to be a true divinity,(3) and which they apprehend as at once the highest
intelligence in all things, and the best benefactor to themselves, believing th
at this economy is all the work of a wisdom and a might which are superior to e
very other, and in themselves truly divine. And there are others who aimlessly
attribute this whole structure of most marvellous beauty to chance and fortuito
us coincidence. And in addition to these, there are also certain physicians, wh
o, having made a more effective examination into all these things, and having i
nvestigated with utmost accuracy the disposition of the inward parts in especia
l, have been struck with astonishment at the results of their inquiry, and have
 been led to deify nature itself. The notions of these men we shall review afte
rwards, as far as we may be able, though we may only touch the surface of the s
ubject.(4) Meantime, to deal with this matter generally and summarily, let me a
sk who constructed this whole tabernacle of ours, so lofty, erect, graceful, se
nsitive, mobile, active, and apt for all things? Was it, as they say, the irrat
ional multitude of atoms? Nay, these, by their conjunctions, could not mould ev
en an image of clay, neither could they hew and polish a statue of stone; nor c
ould they cast and finish an idol of silver or gold; but arts and handicrafts c
alculated for such operations have been discovered by men who fabricate these o
bjects.(5) And if, even in these, representations and models cannot be made wit
hout the aid of wisdom, how can the genuine and original patterns of these copi
es have come into existence spontaneously? And whence have come the soul, and t
he intelligence, and the reason, which are born with the philosopher? Has he ga
thered these from those atoms which are destitute alike of soul, and intelligen
ce, and reason? and has each of these atoms inspired him with some appropriate
conception and notion? And are we to suppose that the wisdom of man was made up
 by these atoms, as the myth of Hesiod tells us that Pandora was fashioned by t
he gods? Then shall the Greeks have , to give up speaking of the various specie
s of poetry, and music, and astronomy, and geometry, and all the other arts and
 sciences, as the inventions and instructions of the gods, and shall have to al
low that these atoms are the only muses with skill and wisdom for all subjects.
 For ibis theogony, constructed of atoms by Epicurus, is indeed something extra
neous to the infinite worlds of order,(6) and finds its refuge in the infinite
disorder.(7)

V. THAT TO WORK IS NOT A MATTER OF PAIN AND
WEARINESS TO GOD.

    Now to work, and administer, and do good, and exercise care, and such like
actions, may perhaps be hard tasks for the idle, and silly, and weak, and wicke
d; in whose number truly Epicurus reckons himself, when he propounds such notio
ns about the gods. But to the earnest, and powerful, and intelligent, and prude
nt, such as philosophers ought to be--and how much more so, therefore, the gods
!--these things are not only not disagreeable and irksome, but ever the most de
lightful, and by far the most welcome of all. To persons of this character, neg
ligence and procrastination in the doing of what is good are a reproach, as the
 poet admonishes them in these words of counsel:--
    "Delay not aught till the morrow"(8)
And then he adds this further sentence of threatening:--
    "The lazy procrastinator is ever wrestling with miseries."(9)

90

And the prophet teaches us the same lesson in a more solemn fashion, and declar
es that deeds done according to the standard of virtue are truly worthy of God,
(1) and that the man who gives no heed to these is accursed: "For cursed be he
that doeth the works of the Lord carelessly."(2) Moreover, those who are unvers
ed in any art, and unable to prosecute it perfectly, feel it to be wearisome wh
en they make their first attempts in it, just by reason of the novelty(3) of th
eir experience, and their want of practice in the works. But those, on the othe
r hand, who have made some advance, and much more those who are perfectly train
ed in the art, accomplish easily and successfully the objects of their labours,
 and have great pleasure in the work, and would choose rather thus, in the disc
harge of the pursuits to which they are accustomed, to finish and carry perfect
ly out what their efforts aim at, than to be made masters of all those things w
hich are reckoned advantageous among men. Yea, Democritus himself, as it is rep
orted, averred that he would prefer the discovery of one true cause to being pu
t in possession of the kingdom of Persia. And that was the declaration of a man
 who had only a vain and groundless conception of the causes of things,(4) inas
much as he started with an unfounded principle, and an erroneous hypothesis, an
d did not discern the real root and the common law of necessity in the constitu
tion of natural things, and held as the greatest wisdom the apprehension of thi
ngs that come about simply in an unintelligent and random way, and set up chanc
e(5) as the mistress and queen of things universal, and even things divine, and
 endeavoured to demonstrate that all things happen by the determination of the
same, although at the same time he kept it outside the sphere of the life of me
n, and convicted those of senselessness who worshipped it. At any rate, at the
very beginning of his Precepts(6) he speaks thus: "Men have made an image(7) of
 chance, as a cover(8) for their own lack of knowledge. For intellect and chanc
e are in their very nature antagonistic to each other.(9) And men have maintain
ed that this greatest adversary to intelligence is its sovereign. Yea, rather,
they completely subvert and do away, with the one, while they establish the oth
er in its place. For they do not celebrate intelligence as the fortunate,(10) b
ut they laud chance(11) as the most intelligent."(12) Moreover, those who atten
d to things conducing to the good of life, take special pleasure in what serves
 the interests of those of the same race with themselves, and seek the recompen
se of praise and glory in return for labours undertaken in behalf of the genera
l good; while some exert themselves as purveyors of ways and means,(13) others
as magistrates, others as physicians, others as statesmen; and even philosopher
s pride themselves greatly in their efforts after the education of men. Will, t
hen, Epicurus or Democritus be bold enough to assert that in the exertion of ph
ilosophizing they only cause distress to themselves? Nay, rather they will reck
on this a pleasure of mind second to none. For even though they maintain the op
inion that the good is pleasure, they will be ashamed to deny that philosophizi
ng is the greater pleasure to them.(14) But as to the gods, of whom the poets a
mong them sing that they are the "bestowers of good gifts,"(15) these philosoph
ers scoffingly celebrate them in strains like these: "The gods are neither the
bestowers nor the sharers in any good thing." And in what manner, forsooth, can
 they demonstrate that there are gods at all, when they neither perceive their
presence, nor discern them as the doers of aught, wherein, indeed, they resembl
e those who, in their admiration and wonder at the sun and the moon and the sta
rs, have held these to have been named gods,(16) from their running(17) such co
urses: when, further, they do not attribute to them any function or power of op
eration,(18) so as to bold them gods(19) from their constituting,(20) that is,
from their making objects,(21) for thereby in all truth the one maker and opera
tor of all things must be God: and when, in fine, they do not set forth any adm
inistration, or judgment, or beneficence of theirs in relation to men, so that
we might be bound either by fear or by reverence to worship them? Has Epicurus
then been able, forsooth, to see beyond this world, and to overpass the precinc
ts of heaven? or has he gone forth by some secret gates known to himself alone,
 and thus obtained sight of the gods in the void?(22) and, deeming them blessed
 in their full felicity, and then becoming himself a passionate aspirant after
such pleasure, and an ardent scholar in that life which they pursue in the void
, does he now

91

call upon all to participate in this felicity, and urge them thus to make thems
elves like the gods, preparing(1) as their true symposium of blessedness neithe
r heaven nor Olympus, as the poets feign, but the sheer void, and setting befor
e them the ambrosia of atoms,(2) and pledging them in(3) nectar made of the sam
e? However, in matters which have no relation to us, he introduces into his boo
ks a myriad oaths and solemn asseverations, swearing constantly both negatively
 and affirmatively by Jove, and making those whom he meets, and with whom he di
scusses his doctrines, swear also by the gods, not certainly that he fears them
 himself, or has any dread of perjury, but that he pronounces all this to be va
in, and false, and idle, and unintelligible, and uses it simply as a kind of ac
companiment to his words, just as he might also clear his throat, or spit, or t
wist his face, or move his hand. So completely senseless and empty a pretence w
as this whole matter of the naming of the gods, in his estimation. But this is
also a very patent fact, that, being in fear of the Athenians after (the warnin
g of) the death of Socrates, and being desirous of preventing his being taken f
or what he really was--an atheist--the subtle charlatan invented for them certa
in empty shadows of unsubstantial gods. But never surely did he look up to heav
en with eyes of true intelligence, so as to hear the clear voice from above, wh
ich another attentive spectator did hear, and of which he testified when he sai
d, "The heavens declare the glory of God, and the firmament showeth His handiwo
rk."(4) And never surely did he look down upon the world's surface with due ref
lection l for then would he have learned that "the earth is full of the goodnes
s of the Lord"(5) and that "the earth is the Lord's, and the fulness thereof;"(
6) and that, as we also read, "After this the Lord looked upon the earth, and f
illed it with His blessings. With all manner of living things hath He covered t
he face thereof."(7) And if these men are not hopelessly blinded, let them but
survey the vast wealth and variety of living creatures, land animals, and winge
d creatures, and aquatic; and let them understand then that the declaration mad
e by the Lord on the occasion of His judgment of all things(8) is true: "And al
l things, in accordance with His command, appeared good."(9)

III.--FROM THE BOOKS AGAINST SABELLIUS.(10) ON THE NOTION THAT MATTER IS UNGENE
RATED.(11)

    These certainly are not to be deemed pious who hold that matter is ungenera
ted, while they allow, indeed, that it is brought under the hand of God so far
as its arrangement and regulation are concerned; for they do admit that, being
naturally passive "and pliable, it yields readily to the alterations impressed
upon it by God. It is for them, however, to show us plainly how it can possibly
 be that the like and the unlike should be predicated as subsisting together in
 God and matter. For it becomes necessary thus to think of one as a superior to
 either, and that is a thought which cannot legitimately be entertained with re
gard to God. For if there is this defect of generation which is said to be the
thing like in both, and if there is this point of difference which is conceived
 of besides in the two, whence has this arisen in them? If, indeed, God is the
ungenerated, and if this defect of generation is, as we may say, His very essen
ce, then matter cannot be ungenerated; for God and matter are not one and the s
ame. But if each subsists properly and independently--namely, God and matter--a
nd if the defect of generation also belongs to both, then it is evident that th
ere is something different from each, and older and higher than both. But the d
ifference of their contrasted constitutions is completely subversive of the ide
a that these can subsist on an equality together, and more, that this one of th
e two--namely, matter--can subsist of itself. For then they will have to furnis
h an explanation of the fact that, though both are supposed to be ungenerated,
God is nevertheless impassible, immutable, imperturbable, energetic; while matt
er is the opposite, impressible, mutable, variable, alterable. And now, how can
 these properties harmoniously co-exist and unite? Is it that God has adapted H
imself to the nature of the matter, and thus has skilfully wrought it? But it w
ould be absurd to suppose that God works in gold, as men are wont to do, or hew
s or polishes stone, or puts His hand to any of the other arts by which differe
nt kinds of matter are made capable of receiving form and figure. But if, on th
e other hand, He has fashioned matter according to His own will, and after the
dictates of His own wisdom, impressing upon it the rich and manifold forms prod
uced by His own operation, then is this account of ours one both good and true,
 and still further

92

one that establishes the position that the ungenerated God is the hypostasis (t
he life and foundation) of all things in the universe. For with this fact of th
e defect of generation it conjoins the proper mode of His being. Much, indeed,
might be said in confutation of these teachers, but that is not what is before
us at present. And if they are put alongside the most impious polytheists,[1] t
hese will seem the more pious in their speech.

IV.--EPISTLE TO DIONYSIUS BISHOP OF ROME[2]

FROM THE FIRST BOOK.
    1. There certainly was not a time when God was not the Father.[3]
    2. Neither, indeed, as though He had not brought forth these things, did Go
d afterwards beget the Son, but because the Son has existence not flora Himself
, but from the Father.
    And after a few words he says of the Son Himself:--
    3. Being the brightness of the eternal Light, He Himself also is absolutely
 eternal. For since light is always in existence, it is manifest that its brigh
tness also exists, because light is perceived to exist from the fact that it sh
ines, and it is impossible that light should not shine. And let us once more co
me to illustrations. If the sun exists, there is also day; if nothing of this b
e manifest, it is impossible that the sun should be there. If then the sun were
 eternal, the day would never end; but now, for such is not really the state of
 the case, the day begins with the beginning of the sun, and ends with its endi
ng. But God is the eternal Light, which has neither had a beginning, nor shall
ever fail. Therefore the eternal brightness shines forth before Him, and co-exi
sts with Him, in that, existing without a beginning, and always begotten, He al
ways shines before Him; and He is that Wisdom which says, "I was that wherein H
e delighted, and I was daily His delight before His face at all times."[4]
    And a little after he thus pursues his discourse from the same point:--
    4. Since, therefore, the Father is eternal, the Son also is eternal, Light
of Light. For where there is the begetter, there is also the offspring. And if
there is no offspring, how and of what can He be the begetter? But both are, an
d always are. Since, then, God is the Light, Christ is the Brightness. And sinc
e He is a Spirit--for says He, "God is a Spirit"[5]--fittingly again is Christ
called Breath; for "He,"[6] saith He, "is the breath of God's power."[7]
    And again he says:--
    5. Moreover, the Son alone, always co-existing with the Father, and filled
with Him who is, Himself also is, since He is of the Father.

FROM THE SAME FIRST BOOK.
    6. But when I spoke of things created, and certain works to be considered,
I hastily put forward illustrations of such things, as it were little appropria
te, when I said neither is the plant the same as the husbandman, nor the boat t
he same as the boatbuilder.[8] But then I lingered rather upon things suitable
and more adapted to the nature of the thing, and I unfolded in many words, by v
arious carefully considered arguments, what things were more true; which things
, moreover, I have set forth to you in another letter. And in these things I ha
ve also proved the falsehood of the charge which they bring against me--to wit,
 that I do not maintain that Christ is consubstantial with God. For although I
say that I have never either found or read this word in the sacred Scriptures,
yet other reasonings, which I immediately subjoined, are in no wise discrepant
from this view, because I brought forward as an illustration human offspring, w
hich assuredly is of the same kind as the begetter; and I said that parents are
 absolutely distinguished from their children by the fact alone that they thems
elves are not their children, or that it would assuredly be a matter of necessi
ty that there would neither be parents nor children. But, as I said before, I h
ave not the letter in my possession, on account of the present condition of aff
airs; otherwise I would have sent you the very words that I then wrote, yea, an
d a copy of the whole letter, and I will send it if at any time I shall have th
e opportunity. I remember, further, that I added many similitudes from things k
indred to one another. For I said that the plant, whether it grows up from seed
 or from a root, is different from that whence it sprouted, although it is abso
lutely of the same nature; and similarly, that a river flowing from a spring ta
kes another form and name: for that neither is the spring called the river, nor
 the river the spring, but that these are two things, and that the spring indee
d is, as it were, the father, while the river is the water from the spring. But
 they feign that they do not see these things and the like to them which are wr
itten, as if they were blind; but they endeavour to assail me from a distance w
ith expressions too carelessly used, as if they were stones, not observing that
 on things of which

93

they are ignorant, and which require interpretation to be understood, illustrat
ions that are not only remote, but even contrary, will often throw light.

FROM THE SAME FIRST BOOK.
    7. It was said above that God is the spring of all good things, but the Son
 was called the river flowing from Him; because the word is an emanation of the
 mind, and--to speak after human fashion--is emitted from the heart by the mout
h. But the mind which springs forth by the tongue is different from the word wh
ich exists in the heart. For this latter, after it has emitted the former, rema
ins and is what it was before; but the mind sent forth flies away, and is carri
ed everywhere around, and thus each is in each although one is from the other,
and they are one although they are two. And it is thus that the Father and the
Son are said to be one, and to be in one another.

FROM THE SECOND BOOK.
    8. The individual haines uttered by me can neither be separated from one an
other, nor parted.[1] I spoke of the Father, and before I made mention of the S
on I already signified Him in the Father. I added the Son; and the Father, even
 although I had not previously named Him, had already been absolutely comprehen
ded in the Son. I added the Holy Spirit; but, at the same time, I conveyed unde
r the name whence and by whom He proceeded. But they are ignorant that neither
the Father, in that He is Father, can be separated from the Son, for that name
is the evident ground of coherence and conjunction; nor can the Son be separate
d from the Father, for this word Father indicates association between them. And
 there is, moreover, evident a Spirit who can neither be disjoined from Him who
 sends, nor from Him who brings Him. How, then, should I who use such names thi
nk that these are absolutely divided and separated the one from the other?
    After a few words he adds:--
    9. Thus, indeed, we expand the indivisible Unity into a Trinity; and again
we contract the Trinity, which cannot be diminished, into a Unity.

FROM THE SAME SECOND BOOK.
    10. But if any quibbler, from the fact that I said that God is the Maker an
d Creator of all things, thinks that I said that He is also Creator of Christ,
let him observe that I first called Him Father, in which word the Son also is a
t the same time expressed.[2] For after I called the Father the Creator, I adde
d, Neither is He the Father of those things whereof He is Creator, if He who be
got is properly understood to be a Father (for we will consider the latitude of
 this word Father in what follows). Nor is a maker a father, if it is only a fr
amer who is called a maker. For among the Greeks, they who are wise are said to
 be makers of their books. The apostle also says, "a doer (soil. maker) of the
law."[3] Moreover, of matters of the heart, of which kind are virtue and vice,
men are called doers (scil. makers); after which manner God said, "I expected t
hat it should make judgment, but it made iniquity."[4]
    11. That neither must this saying be thus blamed;[5] for he says that he us
ed the name of Maker on account of the flesh which the Word had assumed, and wh
ich certainly was made. But if any one should suspect that that had been said o
f the Word, even this also was to be heard without contentiousness. For as I do
 not think that the Word was a thing made, so I do not say that God was its Mak
er, but its Father. Yet still, if at any time, discoursing of the Son, I may ha
ve casually said that God was His Maker, even this mode of speaking would not b
e without defence. For the wise men among the Greeks call themselves the makers
 of their books, although the same are fathers of their books. Moreover, divine
 Scripture calls us makers of those motions which proceed from the heart, when
it calls us doers of the law of judgment and of justice.

FROM THE SAME SECOND BOOK.
    12. In the beginning was the Word.[6] But that was not the Word which produ
ced the Word.[7] For" the Word was with God."[6] The Lord is Wisdom; it was not
 therefore Wisdom that produced Wisdom; for "I was that" says He, "wherein He d
elighted[8] Christ is truth; but "blessed," says He, "is the God of truth."

FROM THE THIRD BOOK.
    13. Life is begotten of life in the same way as the river has flowed forth
from the spring, and the brilliant light is ignited from the inextinguishable l
ight.[9]

FROM THE FOURTH BOOK.

    14. Even as our mind emits from itself a word,[7]--as says the prophet, "My
 heart hath uttered forth a good word,"[10]--and each of the two is distinct th
e one from the other, and maintaining a peculiar place, and one that is distin-

94

guished from the other; since the former indeed abides and is stirred in the he
art, while the latter has its place in the tongue and in the mouth. And yet the
y are not apart from one another, nor deprived of one another; neither is the m
ind without the word, nor is the word without the mind; but the mind makes the
word and appears in the word, and the word exhibits the mind wherein it was mad
e. And the mind indeed is, as it were, the word immanent, while the word is the
 mind breaking forth.[1] The mind passes into the word, and the word transmits
the mind to the surrounding hearers; and thus the mind by means of the word tak
es its place in the souls of the hearers, entering in at the same time as the w
ord. And indeed the mind is, as it were, the father of the word, existing in it
self; but the word is as the son of the mind, and cannot be made before it nor
without it, but exists with it, whence it has taken its seed and origin. In the
 same manner, also, the Almighty Father and Universal Mind has before all thing
s the Son, the Word, and the discourse,[2] as the interpreter and messenger of
Himself.

ABOUT THE MIDDLE OF THE TREATISE.
    15. If, from the fact that there are three hypostases, they say that they a
re divided, there are three whether they like it or no, or else let them get ri
d of the divine Trinity altogether.[3]

AND AGAIN:
    For on this account after the Unity there is also the most divine Trinity.[
4]

THE CONCLUSION OF THE ENTIRE TREATISE.
    16. In accordance with all these things, the: form, moreover, and rule bein
g received from the elders who have lived before us, we also, with a voice in a
ccordance with them, will both acquit ourselves of thanks to you, and of the le
tter which we are now writing. And to God the Father, and His Son our Lord Jesu
s Christ, with the Holy Spirit, be glory and dominion for ever and ever. Amen.[
5]

V.--THE EPISTLE TO BISHOP BASILIDES.[6]
CANON I.

    Dionysius to Basilides, my beloved son, and my brother, a fellow-minister w
ith me in holy things, and an obedient servant of God, in the Lord greeting.
    You have sent to me, most faithful and accomplished son, in order to inquir
e what is the proper hour for bringing the fast to a close[7] on the day of Pen
tecost.[8] For you say that there are some of the brethren who hold that that s
hould be done at cockcrow, and others who hold that it should be at nightfall.[
9] For the brethren in Rome, as they say, wait for the cock; whereas, regarding
 those here, you told us that they would have it earlier.[10] And it is your an
xious desire, accordingly, to have the hour presented accurately, and determine
d with perfect exactness, [11] which indeed is a matter of difficulty and uncer
tainty. However, it will be acknowledged cordially by all, that from the date o
f the resurrection of our Lord, those who up to that time have been humbling th
eir souls with fastings, ought at once to begin their festal joy and gladness.
But in what you have written to me you have made out very clearly, and with an
intelligent understanding of the Holy Scriptures, that no very exact account se
ems to be offered in them of the hour at which He rose. For the evangelists hav
e given different descriptions of the parties who came to the sepulchre one aft
er another,[12] and all have declared that they found the Lord risen already. I
t was "in the end of the Sabbath," as Matthew has said;[13] it was "early, when
 it was yet dark," as John writes;[14] it was "very early in the morning," as L
uke puts it; and it was "very early in the morning, at the rising of the sun,"
as Mark tells us. Thus no one has shown us clearly the exact time when He rose.
 It is admitted, however, that those who came to the sepulchre in the end of th
e Sabbath, as it began to dawn toward the first day of the week,[15] found Him
no longer lying in it. And let us not suppose that the evangelists disagree or
contradict each other. But even although there may

95

seem to be some small difficulty as to the subject of our inquiry, if they all
agree that the light of the world, our Lord, rose on that one night, while they
 differ with respect to the hour, we may well seek with wise and faithful mind
to harmonize their statements. The narrative by Matthew then, runs thus: "In th
e end of the Sabbath as it began to dawn toward the first day of the week,(1) c
ame Mary Magdalene, and the other Mary, to see the sepulchre. And, behold, ther
e was a great earthquake: for the angel of the Lord descended from heaven, and
came and rolled back the stone, and sat upon it. And his countenance was like l
ightning, and his raiment white as snow: and for fear of him the keepers did sh
ake, and became as dead men. And the angel answered and said unto the women, Fe
ar not ye: for I know that ye seek Jesus, which was crucified. He is not here;
for He is risen, as He said."(2) Now this phrase "in the end" will be thought b
y some to signify, according to the common use(3) of the word, the evening:of t
he Sabbath; while others, with a better perception of the fact, will say that i
t does not indicate that, but a late hour in the night,(4) as the phrase "in th
e end"(5) denotes slowness and length of time. Also because he speaks of night,
 and not of evening, he has added the words, "as it began to dawn toward the fi
rst day of the week." And the parties here did not come yet, as the others say,
 "bearing spices," but "to see the sepulchre;" and they discovered the occurren
ce of the earthquake, and the angel sitting upon the stone, and heard from him
the declaration, "He is not here, He is risen." And to the same effect is the t
estimony of John. "The first day of the week," says he, "came Mary Magdalene ea
rly, when it was yet dark, unto the sepulchre, and seeth the stone taken away f
rom the sepulchre."(6) Only, according to this "when it was yet dark," she had
come in advance.(7) And Luke says: "They rested the Sabbath-day, according to t
he commandment. Now, upon the first day of the week, very early in the morning,
 they came unto the sepulchre, bringing the spices which they had prepared; and
 they found the stone rolled away from the sepulchre."(8) This phrase "very ear
ly in the morning"(9) probably indicates the early dawn(10) of the first day of
 the week; and thus, when the Sabbath itself was wholly past, and also the whol
e night succeeding it, and when another day had begun, they came, bringing spic
es and myrrh, and then it became apparent that He had already risen long before
. And Mark follows this, and says: "They had bought sweet spices, in order that
 they might come and anoint Him. And very early (in the morning), the first day
 of the week, they come unto the sepulchre at the rising of the sun."(11) For t
his evangelist also has used the term "very early," which is just the same as t
he "very early in the morning" employed by the former; and he has added, "at th
e rising of the sun." Thus they set out, and took their way first when it was "
very early in the morning," or (as Mark says) when it was "very early;" but on
the road, and by their stay at the sepulchre, they spent the time till it was s
unrise. And then the young man clad in white said to them, "He is risen, He is
not here." As the case stands thus, we make the following statement and explana
tion to those who seek an exact account of the specific hour, or half-hour, or
quarter of an hour, at which it is proper to begin their rejoicing over our Lor
d's rising from the dead. Those who are too hasty, and give up even before midn
ight,(12) we reprehend as remiss and intemperate, and as almost breaking off fr
om their course in their precipitation,(13) for it is a wise man's word, "That
is not little in life which is within a little." And those who hold out and con
tinue for a very long time, and persevere even on to the fourth watch, which is
 also the time at which our Saviour manifested Himself walking upon the sea to
those who were then on the deep, we receive as noble and laborious disciples. O
n those, again, who pause and refresh themselves in the course as they are move
d or as they are able, let us not press very hard:(14) for all do not carry out
 the six days of fasting(15) either equally or alike; but some pass even all th
e days as a fast, remaining without food through the whole; while others take b
ut two, and others three, and others four, and others not even one. And to thos
e who have laboured painfully through these protracted fasts. and have thereaft
er become exhausted and well-nigh undone, pardon ought to be extended if they a
re somewhat precipitate in taking food. But if there are any who not only decli
ne such protracted fasting, but refuse at the first to fast at all, and rather
indulge themselves luxuriously during the first four days, and then when they r
each the last two days--viz., the preparation and the Sabbath--fast with due ri
gour during these, and these alone, and think that they do something grand and
brilliant if they hold out till the morning, I cannot think that they have gone
 through the time on equal

96

terms with those who have been practising the same during several days before.
This is the counsel which, in accordance with my apprehension of the question,
I have offered you in writing on these matters.(1)

CANON II.
    The question touching women in the time of their separation, whether it is
proper for them when in such a condition to enter the house of God, I consider
a superfluous inquiry. For I do not think that, if they are believing and pious
 women, they will themselves be rash enough in such a condition either to appro
ach the holy table or to touch the body and blood of the Lord. Certainly the wo
man who had the issue of blood of twelve years' standing did not touch the Lord
 Himself, but only the hem of His garment, with a view to her cure.(2) For to p
ray, however a person may be situated, and to remember the Lord, in whatever co
ndition a person may be, and to offer up petitions for the obtaining of help, a
re exercises altogether blameless. But the individual who is not perfectly pure
 both in soul and in body, shall be interdicted from approaching the holy of ho
lies.

CANON lII.
    Moreover, those who are competent, and who are advanced in years, ought to
be judges of themselves in these matters. For that it is proper to abstain from
 each other by consent, in order that they may be free for a season to give the
mselves to prayer, and then come together again, they have heard from Paul in h
is epistle.(3)

CANON IV.
    As to those who are overtaken by an involuntary flux in the night-time, let
 such follow the testimony of their own conscience, and consider themselves as
to whether they are doubtfully minded(4) in this matter or not. And he that dou
bteth in the matter of meats, the apostle tells us, "is damned if he eat."(5) I
n these things, therefore, let every one who approaches God be of a good consci
ence, and of a proper confidence, so far as his own judgment is concerned. And,
 indeed, it is in order to show your regard for us (for you are not ignorant, b
eloved,) that you have proposed these questions to us, making us of one mind, a
s indeed we are, and of one spirit with yourself. And I, for my part, have thus
 set forth my opinions in public, not as a teacher, but only as it becomes us w
ith all simplicity to confer with each other. And when you have examined this o
pinion of mine, my most intelligent son, you will write back to me your notion
of these matters, and let me know whatever may seem to you to be just and prefe
rable, and whether you approve of my judgment in these things.(6) That it may f
are well with you, my beloved son, as you minister to the Lord in peace, is my
prayer.

PART II.--CONTAINING EPISTLES, OR FRAGMENTS OF EPISTLES.

EPISTLE I.--TO DOMITIUS AND DIDYMUS.(1)

    1. But it would be a superfluous task for me to mention by name our (martyr
) friends, who are numerous and at the same time unknown to you. Only understan
d that they include men and women, both young men and old, both maidens and age
d matrons, both soldiers and private citizens,--every class and every age, of w
hom some have suffered by stripes and fire, and some by the sword, and have won
 the victory and received their crowns. In the case of others. however, even a
very long lifetime has not proved sufficient to secure their appearance as men
acceptable to the Lord; as indeed in my own case too, that sufficient time has
not shown itself up to the present. Wherefore He has preserved me for another c
onvenient season, of which He knows Himself, as He says: "In an acceptable time
 have I heard thee, and in a day of salvation have I helped thee."(2)
    2. Since, however, you have been inquiring(3) about what has befallen us, a
nd wish to be informed as to how we have fared, you have got a full report of o
ur fortunes; how when we--that is to say, Gains, and myself, and Faustus, and P
eter. and Paul--were led off as prisoners by the centurion and the magistrates,
(4) and the sol-

97

diers and other attendants accompanying them, there came upon us certain partie
s from Mareotis, who dragged us with them against our will, and though we were
disinclined to follow them, and carried us away by force;(1) and how Gains and
Peter and myself have been separated from our other brethren, and shut up alone
 in a desert and sterile place in Libya, at a distance of three days' journey f
rom Paraetonium.
    3. And a little further on, he proceeds thus:--And they concealed themselve
s in the city, and secretly visited the brethren. I refer to the presbyters Max
imus, Dioscorus, Demetrius, and Lucius. For Faustinus and Aquila, who are perso
ns of greater prominence in the world, are wandering about in Egypt. I specify
also the deacons who survived those who died in the sickness,(2) viz., Faustus,
 Eusebius, and Chaeremon. And of Eusebius I speak as one whom the Lord strength
ened from the beginning, and qualified for the task of discharging energeticall
y the services due to the confessors who are in prison, and of executing the pe
rilous office of dressing out and burying(3) the bodies of those perfected and
blessed martyrs. For even up to the present day the governor does not cease to
put to death, in a cruel manner, as I have already said, some of those who are
brought before him; while he wears others out by torture, and wastes others awa
y with imprisonment and bonds, commanding also that no one shall approach them
and making strict scrutiny lest any one should be seen to do so. And neverthele
ss God imparts relief to the oppressed by the tender kindness and earnestness o
f the brethren.

EPISTLE II.--TO NOVATUS.(4)

Dionysius to Novatus(5) his brother, greeting. If you were carried on against y
our will, as you say, you will show that such has been the case by your volunta
ry retirement. For it would have been but dutiful to have suffered any kind of
ill, so as to avoid rending the Church of God. And a martyrdom borne for the sa
ke of preventing a division of the Church, would not have been more inglorious
than one endured for refusing to worship idols;(6) nay, in my opinion at least,
 the former would have been a nobler thing than the latter. For in the one case
 a person gives such a testimony simply for his own individual soul, whereas in
 the other case he is a witness for the whole Church. And now, if you can persu
ade or constrain the brethren to come to be of one mind again, your uprightness
 will be superior to your error; and the latter will not be charged against you
, while the former will be commended in you. But if you cannot prevail so far w
ith your recusant brethren, see to it that you save your own soul. My wish is,
that in the Lord you may fare well as you study peace.

EPISTLE III.--TO FABIUS(7) BISHOP OF ANTIOCH.

 I. The persecution with us did not commence with the imperial edict, but prece
ded it by a whole year. And a certain prophet and poet, an enemy to this city,(
8) whatever else he was, had previously roused and exasperated against us the m
asses of the heathen. inflaming them anew with the fires of their native supers
tition. Excited by him, and finding full liberty for the perpetration of wicked
ness, they reckoned this the only

98

piety and service to their demons,(1) namely, our slaughter.
    2. First, then, they seized an old man of the name of Metras, and commanded
 him to utter words of impiety; and as he refused, they beat his body with club
s, and lacerated his face and eyes with sharp reeds, and then dragged him off t
o the suburbs and stoned him there. Next they carried off a woman named Quinta,
 who was a believer, to an idol temple, and compelled her to worship the idol;
and when she turned away from it, and showed how she detested it, they bound he
r feet and dragged her through the whole city along the rough stone-paved stree
ts, knocking her at the same time against the millstones, and scourging her, un
til they brought her to the same place, and stoned her also there. Then with on
e impulse they all rushed upon the houses of the God-fearing, and whatever piou
s persons any of them knew individually as neighbours, after these they hurried
 and bore them with them, and robbed and plundered them, setting aside the more
 valuable portions of their property for themselves, and scattering about the c
ommoner articles, and such as were made of wood, and burning them on the roads,
 so that they made these parts present the spectacle of a city taken by the ene
my. The brethren, however, simply gave way and withdrew, and, like those to who
m Paul bears witness,(2) they took the spoiling of their goods with joy. And I
know l not that any of them--except possibly some solitary individual who may h
ave chanced to fall into their hands--thus far has denied the Lord.
    3. But they also seized that most admirable virgin Apollonia, then in advan
ced life, and knocked out all her teeth,(3) and cut her jaws; and then kindling
 a fire before the city, they threatened to burn her alive unless she would! re
peat along with them their expressions of impiety.(4) And although she seemed t
o deprecate(5) her fate for a little, on being let go, she leaped eagerly into
the fire and was consumed. They also laid hold of a certain Serapion in his own
 house;(6) and after torturing him with severe cruelties, and breaking all his
limbs, they dashed him headlong from an upper storey to the ground. And there w
as no road, no thoroughfare, no lane even, where we could walk, whether by nigh
t or by day; for at all times and in every place they all kept crying out, that
 if any one should refuse to repeat their blasphemous expressions, he must be a
t once dragged off and burnt. These in fictions were carried rigorously on for
a considerable time(7) in this manner. But when the insurrection and the civil
war in due time overtook these wretched people,(8) that diverted their savage c
ruelty from us, and turned it against themselves. And we enjoyed a little breat
hing time, as long as leisure failed them for exercising their fury against us.
(9)
    4. But speedily was the change from that more kindly reign(10) announced to
 us; and great was the terror of threatening that was now made to reach us. Alr
eady, indeed, the edict had arrived; and it was of such a tenor as almost perfe
ctly to correspond with what was intimated to us beforetime by our Lord, settin
g before us the most dreadful horrors, so as, if that were possible, to cause t
he very elect to stumble.(11) All verily were greatly alarmed, and of the more
notable there were some, and these a large number, who speedily accommodated th
emselves to the decree in fear;(12) others, who were engaged in the public serv
ice, were drawn into compliance by the very necessities of their official dutie
s;(13) others were dragged on to it by their friends, and on being called by na
me approached

99

the impure and unholy sacrifices; others yielded pale and trembling, as if they
 were not to offer sacrifice, but to be themselves the sacrifices and victims f
or the idols, so that they were jeered by the large multitude surrounding the s
cene, and made it plain to all that they were too cowardly either to face death
 or to offer the sacrifices. But there were others who hurried up to, the altar
s with greater alacrity, stoutly asserting(1) that they had never been Christia
ns at all before; of whom our Lord's prophetic declaration holds most true, tha
t it will be hard for such to be saved. Of the rest, some followed one or other
 of these parties already mentioned;t some fled, and some were seized. And of t
hese, some went as far in keeping their faith as bonds and imprisonment; and ce
rtain persons among them endured imprisonment even for several days, and then a
fter all abjured the faith before coming into the court of justice; while other
s, after holding out against the torture for a time, sank before the prospect o
f further sufferings.(2)
    5. But there were also others, stedfast and blessed pillars of the Lord, wh
o, receiving strength from Himself, and obtaining power and vigour worthy of an
d commensurate with the force of the faith that was in themselves, have proved
admirable witnesses for His kingdom. And of these the first was Julianus, a man
 suffering from gout, and able neither to stand nor to walk, who was arranged a
long with two other men who carried him. Of these two persons, the one immediat
ely denied Christ; but the other, a person named Cronion, and surnamed Eunus, a
nd together with him the aged Julianus himself, confessed the Lord, and were ca
rried on camels through the whole city, which is, as you know, a very large one
, and were scourged in that elevated position, and finally were consumed in a t
remendous fire, while the whole populace surrounded them. And a certain soldier
 who stood by them when they I were led away to execution, and who opposed the
wanton insolence of the people, was pursued by the outcries they raised against
 him; and this most courageous soldier of God, Besas by name, was arranged; and
 after bearing himself most nobly in that mighty conflict on behalf of piety, h
e was beheaded. And another individual, who was by birth a Libyan, and who at o
nce in name ' and in real blessedness was also a true Macar(3) although much wa
s tried by the judge to persuade him to make a denial, did not yield, and was c
onsequently burned alive. And these were succeeded by Epimachus and Alexander,
who, after a long time(4) spent in chains, and after suffering countless agonie
s and inflictions of the scrapers and the scourge, were also burnt to ashes in
an immense fire.
    6. And along with these there were four women. Among them was Ammonarium, a
 pious virgin, who was tortured for a very long time by the judge in a most rel
entless manner, because she declared plainly from the first that she would utte
r none of the things which he commanded her to repeat; and after she had made g
ood her profession she was led off to execution. The others were the most vener
able and aged Mercuria, and Dionysia, who had been the mother of many children,
 and yet did not love her offspring better than her Lord.(6) These, when the go
vernor was ashamed to subject them any further to profitless torments, and thus
 to see himself beaten by women, died by the sword, without more experience of
tortures. For truly their champion Ammonarium had received tortures for them al
l.
    7. Heron also, and Ater,(7) and Isidorus(8) who were Egyptians, and along w
ith them Dioscorus, a boy of about fifteen years of age, were delivered up. And
 though at first he, the judge, tried to deceive the youth with fair speeches,
thinking he could easily seduce him, and then attempted also to compel him by f
orce of tortures, fancying he might be made to yield without much difficulty in
 that way, Dioscorus neither submitted to his persuasions nor gave way to his t
errors. And the rest, after their bodies had been lacerated in a most savage ma
nner, and their stedfastness had nevertheless been maintained, he consigned als
o to the flames. But Dioscorus he dismissed, wondering at the distinguished app
earance he had made in public, and at the extreme wisdom of the answers he gave
 to his interrogations, and declaring that, on account of his age, he granted h
im further time for repentance. And this most godly Dioscorus is with us at pre
sent, tarrying for a greater conflict and a more lengthened contest. A certain
person of the name of Nemesion, too, who was also an Egyptian, was falsely accu
sed of being a companion of robbers; and after the had cleared himself of this
charge before the centurion, anti proved it to be a most unnatural calumny, he
was informed against as a Christian, and had to come as a prisoner before the g
overnor. And that most unrighteous magistrate inflicted on him a punishment twi
ce as

100

severe as that to which the robbers were subjected, making him suffer both tort
ures and scourgings, and then consigning him to the fire between the robbers. T
hus the blessed martyr was honoured after the pattern of Christ.
    8. There was also a body of soldiers,(1) including Ammon, and Zeno, and Pto
lemy, and Ingenuus, and along with them an old man, Theophilus, who had taken u
p their position in a mass in front of the tribunal; and when a certain person
was standing his trial as a Christian, and was already inclining to make a deni
al, these stood round about and ground their teeth, and made signs with their f
aces, and stretched out their hands, and made all manner of gestures with their
 bodies. And while the attention of all was directed to them, before any could
lay hold of them, they ran quickly up to the bench of judgment(2) and declared
themselves to be Christians, and made such an impression that the governor and
his associates were filled with fear; and those who were trader trial seemed to
 be most courageous in the prospect of what they were to suffer, while the judg
es themselves trembled. These, then, went with a high spirit from the tribunals
, and exulted in their testimony, God Himself causing them to triumph gloriousl
y.(3)
    9. Moreover, others in large numbers were torn asunder by the heathen throu
ghout the cities and villages. Of one of these I shall give some account, as an
 example. Ischyrion served one of the rulers in the capacity of steward for sta
ted wages. His employer ordered this man to offer sacrifice; and on his refusal
 to do so, he abused him. When he persisted in his non-compliance, his master t
reated him with contumely; and when he still held out, he took a huge stick and
 thrust it through his bowels and heart, and slew him. Why should I mention the
 multitudes of those who had to wander about in desert places and upon the moun
tains, and who were cut off by hunger, and thirst, and cold, and sickness, and
robbers, and wild beasts? The survivors of such are the witnesses of their elec
tion and their victory. One circumstance, however, I shall subjoin as an illust
ration of these things. There was a certain very aged person of the name of Cha
eremon, bishop of the place called the t city of the Nile.(4) He fled along wit
h his partner to the Arabian mountain,(5) and never returned. The brethren, too
, were unable to discover anything of them, although they made frequent search;
 and they never could find either the men themselves, or their bodies. Many wer
e also carried off as slaves by the barbarous Saracens(6) to that same Arabian
mount. Some of these were ransomed with difficulty, and only by paying a great
sum of money; others of them have not been ransomed to this day. And these fact
s I have related, brother, not without a purpose, but in order that you may kno
w how many and how terrible are the ills that have befallen us; which troubles
also will be best understood by those who have had most experience of them.
    10. Those sainted martyrs, accordingly, who were once with us, and who now
are seated with Christ,(7) and are sharers in His kingdom, and partakers with H
im in His judgment,(8) and who act as His judicial assessors,(9) received there
 certain of the brethren who had fallen away, and who had become chargeable wit
h sacrificing to the idols. And as they saw that the conversion and repentance
of such might be acceptable to Him who desires not at all the death of the sinn
er,(10) but rather his repentance, they proved their sincerity, and received th
em, and brought them together again, and assembled with them, and had fellowshi
p with them in their prayers and at their festivals.(11) What advice then, bret
hren, do you give us as regards these? What should we do? Are we to stand forth
 and act with the decision and judgment which those (martyrs) formed, and to ob
serve the same graciousness with them, and to deal so kindly with those toward
whom they showed such compassion? or are we to treat their decision as an unrig
hteous one,(12) and to constitute ourselves judges of their

101

opinion on such subjects, and to throw clemency into tears, and to overturn the
 established order?(1)
    11. But I shall give a more particular account of one case here which occur
red among us:(2) There was with us a certain Serapion, an aged believer. He had
 spent his long life blamelessly, but had fallen in the time of trial (the pers
ecution). Often did this man pray (for absolution), and no one gave heed to him
;(3) for he had sacrificed to the idols. Falling sick, he continued three succe
ssive days dumb and senseless. Recovering a little on the fourth day, he called
 to him his grandchild, and said, "My son, how long do you detain me? Hasten, I
 entreat you, and absolve me quickly. Summon one of the presbyters to me." And
when he had said this, he became speechless again. The boy ran for  the presbyt
er; but it was night, and the man was sick, and was consequently unable to come
. But as an injunction had been issued by me,(4) that persons at the point of d
eath, if they requested it then, and especially if they had earnestly sought it
 before, should be absolved,(5) in order that they might depart this life in ch
eerful hope, he gave the boy a small portion of the Eucharist,(6) telling him t
o steep it in water(7) and drop it into the old man's mouth. The boy returned b
earing the portion; and as he came near, and before he had yet entered, Serapio
n again recovered, and said, "You have come, my child, and the presbyter was un
able to come; but do quickly what you were instructed to do, and so let me depa
rt." The boy steeped the morsel in water, and at once dropped it into the (old
man's) mouth; and after he had swallowed a little of it, he forthwith gave up t
he ghost. Was he not then manifestly preserved? and did he not continue in life
 just until he could be absolved, and until through the wiping away of his sins
 he could be acknowledged s for the many good acts he had done?

EPISTLE IV.--TO CORNELIUS THE ROMAN BISHOP.

    In addition to all these, he writes likewise to Cornelius at Rome after rec
eiving his Epistle against Novatus. And in that letter he also shows that he ha
d been invited by Helenus, bishop in Tarsus of Cilicia, and by the others who w
ere with him--namely, Firmilian, bishop in Cappadocia, and Theoctistus in Pales
tine--to meet them at the Council of Antioch, where certain persons were attemp
ting to establish the schism of Novatus. In addition to this, he writes that it
 was reported to him that Fabius was dead, and that Demetrianus was appointed h
is successor in the bishopric of the church at Antioch. He writes also respecti
ng the bishop in Jerusalem, expressing himself in these very words: "And the bl
essed Alexander, having been cast into prison, went to his rest in blessedness.
"

EPISTLE V., WHICH IS THE FIRST ON THE SUBJECT OF BAPTISM ADDRESSED TO STEPHEN,
BISHOP OF ROME.(10)

    Understand, however, my brother,(11) that all the churches located in the e
ast, and also in remoter districts,(12) that were formerly in a state of divisi
on, are now made one again;(13) and all those at the head of the churches every
where are of one mind, and rejoice exceedingly at the peace which has been rest
ored beyond all expectation. I may

102

mention Demetrianus in Antioch; Theoctistus in Caesareia; Mazabanes in AElia, t
he successor of the deceased Alexander;(2) Marinus in Tyre; Heliodorus in Laodi
cea, the successor of the deceased Thelymidres; Helenus in Tarsus, and with him
 all the churches of Cilicia; and Fir-milian and all Cappadocia. For I have nam
ed only the more illustrious of the bishops, so as neither to make my epistle t
oo long, nor to render my discourse too heavy for you. All the districts of Syr
ia, however, and of Arabia, to the brethren in which you from time to time have
 been forwarding supplies(3) and at present have sent letters, and Mesopotamia
too, and Pontus, and Syria, and, to speak in brief, all parties, are everywhere
 rejoicing at the unanimity and brotherly love now established, and are glorify
ing God for the same.

THE SAME, OTHERWISE RENDERED.(4)

    But know, my brother, that all the churches throughout the East, and those
that are placed beyond, which formerly were separated, are now at length return
ed to unity; and all the presidents(5) of the churches everywhere think one and
 the same thing, and rejoice with incredible joy on account of the unlooked-for
 return of peace: to wit, Demetrianus in Antioch; Theoctistus in Caesarea; Maza
benes in AElia, after the death of Alexander; Marinus in Tyre; Heliodorus in La
odicea, after the death of Thelymidres; Helenus in Tarsus, and all the churches
 of Cilicia; Firmilianus, with all Cappadocia. And I have named only the more i
llustrious bishops, lest by chance my letter should be made too prolix, and my
address too wearisome. The whole of the Syrias, indeed, and Arabia, to which yo
u now and then send help, and to which you have now written letters; Mesopotami
a also, and Pontus, and Bithynia; and, to comprise all in one word, all the lan
ds everywhere, are rejoicing, praising God on account of this concord and broth
erly charity.

EPISTLE VI.--TO SIXTUS, BISHOP.(6)

    1. Previously, indeed, (Stephen) had written letters about Helanus and Firm
ilianus, and about all who were established throughout Cilicia and Cappadocia,
and all the neighbouring provinces, giving them to understand that for that sam
e reason he would depart from their communion, because they rebaptized heretics
. And consider the seriousness of the matter. For, indeed, in the most consider
able councils of the bishops, as I hear, it has been decreed that they who come
 from heresy should first be trained in Catholic doctrine, and then should be c
leansed by baptism from the filth of the old and impure leaven. Asking and call
ing him to witness on all these matters, I sent letters.
    And a little after Dionysius proceeds:--
    2. And, moreover, to our beloved co-presbyters Dionysius and Philemon, who
before agreed with Stephen, and had written to me about the same matters, I wro
te previously in few words, but now I have written again more at length.
    In the same letter, says Eusebius,(7) he informs Xystus(8) of the       Sab
ellian heretics, that they were gaining ground at that time, in       these wor
ds:--
    3. For since of the doctrine, which lately has been set on foot at Ptolemai
s, a city of Pentapolis, implores and full of blasphemy against Almighty God an
d the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ; full of unbelief and perfidy towards His
 only begotten Son and the first-born of every creature, the Word made man, and
 which takes away the perception of the Holy Spirit,--on either side both lette
rs were brought to me, and brethren had come to discuss it, setting forth more
plainly as much as by God's gift I was able,--I wrote certain letters, copies o
f which I have sent to thee.

EPISTLE VII.--TO PHILEMON, A PRESBYTER.(9)

    I indeed gave attention to reading the books and carefully studying the tra
ditions of heretics, to the extent indeed of corrupting my soul with their exec
rable opinions; yet receiving from them this advantage, that I could refute the
m in my own mind, and detested them more heartily than ever. And when a certain
 brother of the order of presbyters sought to deter me, and feared lest I shoul
d be involved in the same wicked filthiness, because he said that my mind would
 be contaminated, and indeed with truth, as I myself perceived, I was strengthe
ned by a vision that was sent me from God. And a word

103

spoken to me, expressly commanded me, saying, Read everything which shall come
into thy hands, for thou art fit to do so, who correctest and provest each one;
 and from them to thee first of all has appeared the cause and the occasion of
believing. I received this vision as being what was in accordance with the apos
tolic word, which thus urges all who are endowed with greater virtue, "Be ye sk
ilful money-changers."(1)
    Then, says Eusebius, he subjoins some things parenthetically about        a
ll heresies:--
    This rule and form I have received from our blessed Father Heraclus: For th
ou, who came from heresies, even if they had fallen away from the Church, much
rather if they had not fallen away, but when they were seen to frequent the ass
emblies of the faithful, were charged with going to hear the teachers of perver
se doctrine, and ejected from the Church, he did not admit after many prayers,
before they had openly and publicly narrated whatever things they had heard fro
m their adversaries. Then he received them at length to the assemblies of the f
aith ful, by no means asking of them to receive baptism anew. Because they had
already previously received the Holy Spirit from that very baptism.
    Once more, this question being thoroughly ventilated, he adds:--
    I learned this besides, that this custom is not now first of all imported a
mong the Africans(2) alone; but moreover, long before, in the times of former b
ishops, among most populous churches, and that when synods of the brethren of I
conium and Synades were held, it also pleased as many as possible, I should be
unwilling, by overturning their judgments, to throw them into strifes and conte
ntious. For it is written, "Thou shalt not remove thy neighbour's landmark, whi
ch thy fathers have placed."(3)

EPISTLE VIII.--TO DIONYSIUS.(4)

    For we rightly repulse Novatian, who has rent the Church, and has drawn awa
y some of the brethren to impiety and blasphemies; who has brought into the wor
ld a most impious doctrine concerning God, and calumniates our most merciful Lo
rd Jesus Christ as if He were unmerciful; and besides all these things, holds t
he sacred layer as of no effect, and rejects it, and overturns faith and confes
sion, which are put before baptism, and utterly drives away the Holy Spirit fro
m them, even if any hope subsists either that He would abide in them, or that H
e should return to them.

EPISTLE IX.--TO SIXTUS II.(5)

    For truly, brother, I have need of advice, and I crave your judgment, lest
perchance I should be mistaken upon the matters which in such wise happen to me
. One of the brethren who come together to the church, who for some time has be
en esteemed as a believer, and who before my ordination, and, if I am not decei
ved, before even the episcopate of Heraclas himself, had been a partaker of the
 assembly of the faithful, when he had been concerned in the baptism of those w
ho were lately baptized, and had heard the interrogatories and their answers, c
ame to me in tears, and bewailing his lot. And throwing himself at my feet, he
began to confess and to protest that this baptism by which he had been initiate
d among heretics was not of this kind, nor had it anything whatever in common w
ith this of ours, because that it was full of blasphemy and impiety. And he sai
d that his soul was pierced with a very bitter sense of sorrow, and that he did
 not dare even to lift up his eyes to God, because he had been initiated by tho
se wicked words and things. Wherefore he besought that, by this purest layer, h
e might be endowed with adoption and grace. And I, indeed, have not dared to do
 this; but I have said that the long course of communion had been sufficient fo
r this. For I should not dare to renew afresh, after all, one who had heard the
 giving of thanks, and who had answered with others Amen; who had stood at the
holy table, and had stretched forth his hands(6) to receive the blessed food, a
nd had received it, and for a very long time had been a partaker of the body an
d blood of our Lord Jesus Christ. Henceforth I bade him be of good courage, and
 approach to the sacred elements with a firm faith and a good conscience, and b
ecome a partaker of them. But he makes no end of his wailing, and shrinks from
approaching to the table; and scarcely, when entreated, can he bear to be prese
nt at the prayers.

EPISTLE X.--AGAINST BISHOP GERMANUS.(7)

    1. Now I speak also before God, and He knoweth that I lie not: it was not b
y my own choice? neither was it without divine instruction,

104

that I took to flight. But at an earlier period,(1) indeed, when the edict far
the persecution under Decius was determined upon, Sabinus at that very hour sen
t a certain Frumentarius(2) to make search for me. And I remained in the house
for four days, expecting the arrival of this Frumentarius. But he went about ex
amining all other places, the roads, the rivers, the fields, where he suspected
 that I should either conceal myself or travel. And he was smitten with a kind
of blindness, and never lighted on the house; for he never supposed that I shou
ld tarry at home when under pursuit. Then, barely after the lapse of four days,
 God giving me instruction to remove, and opening the way for me in a manner be
yond all expectation, my domestics(3) and I, and a considerable number of the b
rethren, effected an exit together. And that this was brought about by the prov
idence of God, was made plain by what followed: in which also we have been perh
aps of some service to certain parties.
    2. Then, after a certain break, he narrates the events which befell him aft
er his flight, subjoining the following statement:--Now about sunset I was seiz
ed, along with those who were with me, by the soldiers, and was carried off to
Taposiris. But by the providence of God, it happened that Timotheus was not pre
sent with me then, nor indeed had he been apprehended at all. Reaching the plac
e later, he found the house deserted, and officials keeping guard over it, and
ourselves borne into slavery.
    3. And after some other matters, he proceeds thus:--And what was the method
 of this marvellous disposition of Providence in his case? For the real facts s
hall be related. When Timotheus was fleeing in great perturbation, he was met(4
) by a man from the country.(5) This person asked the reason for his haste, and
 he told him the truth plainly. Then the man (he was on his way at the time to
take part in certain marriage festivities; for it is their custom to spend the
whole night in such gatherings), on hearing the fact, held on his course to the
 scene of the rejoicings, and went in and narrated the circumstances to those w
ho were seated at the feast; and with a single impulse, as if it had been at a
given watchword, they all started up, and came on all in a rush, and with the u
tmost speed. Hurrying up to us, they raised a shout; and as the soldiers who we
re guarding us took at once to flight, they came upon us, stretched as we were
upon the bare couches.(6) For my part, as God knows, I took them at first to be
 robbers who had come to plunder and pillage us; and remaining on the bedstead
on which I was lying naked, save only that I had on my linen underclothing, I o
ffered them the rest of my dress as it lay beside me. But they bade me get up a
nd take my departure as quickly as I could. Then I understood the purpose of th
eir coming, and cried, entreated, and implored them to go away and leave us alo
ne; and I begged that, if they wished to do us any good, they might anticipate
those who led me captive, and strike off my head. And while I was uttering such
 vociferations, as those who were my comrades and partners in all these things
know, they began to lift me up by force. And I threw myself down on my back upo
n the ground; but they seized me by the hands and feet, and dragged me away, an
d bore me forth. And those who were witnesses of all these things followed me,-
-namely, Caius, Faustus, Peter, and Paul. These men also took me up, and hurrie
d me off(7) out of the little town, and set me on an ass without saddle, and in
 that  fashion carried me away.
    4. I fear that I run the risk of being charged  with great folly and sensel
essness, placed as I am  under the necessity of giving a narrative of the wonde
rful dispensation of God's providence in our case. Since, however, as one says,
 it is good to keep close the secret of a king, but it is honourable to reveal
the works of God,(8) I shall come to close quarters with the violence of German
us. I came to AEmilianus not alone; for there accompanied me also my co-presbyt
er Maximus, and the deacons Faustus and Eusebius and Chaeremon; and one of the
brethren who had  come from Rome went also with us. AEmilianus, then, did not l
ead off by saying to me, "Hold no assemblies." That was indeed a thing superflu
ous for him to do, and the last thing which d one would do who meant to go back
 to what was first and of prime importance:(9) for his concern was not about ou
r gathering others together in assembly, but about our not being Christians our
selves. From this, therefore, he commanded

105

me to desist, thinking, doubtless, that if I myself should recant, the others w
ould also follow me in that. But I answered him neither unreasonably nor in man
y words, "We must obey God rather than men."(1) Moreover, I testified openly th
at I worshipped the only true God and none other, and that I could neither alte
r that position nor ever cease to be a Christian. Thereupon he ordered us to go
 away to a village near the desert, called Cephro.
    5. Hear also the words which were uttered by both of us as they have been p
ut on record.(2) When Dionysius, and Faustus, and Maximus, and Marcellus, and C
haeremon had been placed at the bar, Aemilianus, as prefect, said: "I have reas
oned with you verily in free speech,(3) on the clemency of our sovereigns, as t
hey have suffered you to experience it; for they have given you power to save y
ourselves, if you are disposed to turn to what is accordant with nature, and to
 worship the gods who also maintain them in their kingdom, and to forget those
things which are repugnant' to nature. What say ye then to these things? for I
by no means expect that you will be ungrateful to them for their clemency, sinc
e indeed what they aim at is to bring you over to better courses." Dionysius ma
de reply thus "All men do not worship all the gods, but different men worship d
ifferent objects that they suppose to be true gods. Now we worship the one God,
 who is the Creator of all things, and the very Deity who has committed the sov
ereignty to the hands of their most sacred majesties Valerian and Gallienus. Hi
m we both reverence and worship; and to Him we pray continually on behalf of th
e sovereignty of these princes, that it may abide unshaken." AEmilianus, as pre
fect, said to them: "But who hinders you from worshipping this god too, if inde
ed he is a god, along with those who are gods by nature? for you have been comm
anded to worship the gods, and those gods whom all know as such." Dionysius rep
lied: "We worship no other one." AEmilianus, as prefect, said to them: "I perce
ive that you are at once ungrateful to and insensible of the clemency of our pr
inces. Wherefore you shall not remain in this city; but you shall be despatched
 to the parts of Libya, and settled in! a place called Cephro: for of this plac
e I have I, made choice in accordance with the command of our princes. It shall
 not in any wise be lawful for you or for any others, either to hold assemblies
 or to enter those places which are: called cemeteries. And if any one is seen
not to have betaken himself to this place whither I have ordered him to repair,
 or if he be discovered in any assembly, he will prepare peril for himself; for
 the requisite punishment will not fail. Be off, therefore, to the place whithe
r you have been commanded to go." So he forced me away, sick as I was; nor did
he grant me the delay even of a single day. What opportunity, then, had I to th
ink either of holding assemblies, or of not holding them?(4)
    6. Then after same other matters he says:--Moreover, we did not withdraw fr
om the visible assembling of ourselves together, with the Lord's presence.(5) B
ut those in the city I tried to gather together with all the greater zeal, as i
f I were present with them; for I was absent indeed in the body, as I said,(6)
but present in the spirit. And in Cephro indeed a considerable church sojourned
 with us, composed partly of the brethren who followed us from the city, and pa
rtly of those who joined us from Egypt. There, too, did God open to us a door(7
) for the word. And at first we were persecute we were stoned but after a perio
d some few of the heathen forsook their idols, and turned to God. For by  our m
eans the word was then sown among them for the first time, and before that they
 had never received it. And as if to show that this had been the very purpose o
f God in conducting us to them, when we had fulfilled this ministry, He led us
away again. For AEmilianus was minded to remove us to rougher parts, as it seem
ed, and to more Libyan-like districts; and he gave orders to draw all in every
direction into the Mareotic territory, and assigned villages to each party thro
ughout the country. Bat he issued instructions that we should be located specia
lly by the public way, so that we might also be the first to be apprehended;(8)
 for he evidently made his arrangements and plans with a view to an easy seizur
e of all of us whenever he should make up his mind to lay hold of us.
    7. Now when I received the command to depart to Cephro, I had no idea of th
e situation of the place, and had scarcely even heard its name before; yet for
all that, I went away courageously and calmly. But when word was brought me tha
t I had to remove to the parts of Colluthion,(9) those present know how I was a
ffected; for here I shall be my own accuser.

106

At first, indeed, I was greatly vexed, and took very ill; for though these plac
es happened to be better known and more familiar to us, yet pea ple declared th
at the region was one destitute o brethren, and even of men of character, and o
ne exposed to the annoyances of travellers and to the raids of robbers. I found
 comfort, however when the brethren reminded me that it was nearer the city; an
d while Cephro brought us large intercourse with brethren of all sorts who came
 from Egypt, so that we were able to hold our sacred assemblies on a more exten
sive scale yet there, on the other hand, as the city was in the nearer vicinity
, we could enjoy more frequently the sight of those who were the really beloved
, and in closest relationship with us, and dearest to us: for these would come
and take their rest among us, and, as in the more remote suburbs, there would b
e distinct and special meetings.(1) And thus it turned out.
    8. Then, after same other matters, he gives again the following account of
what befell him--Germanus, indeed, boasts himself of many professions of faith.
 He, forsooth, is able to speak of many adverse things which have happened to h
im! Can he then reckon up in his own case as many condemnatory sentences(2) as
we can number in ours, and confiscations too, and proscriptions, and spoilings
of goods, and losses of dignities,(3) and despisings of worldly honour, and con
temnings of the laudations of governors and councillors, and patient subjection
s to the threatenings of the adversaries,(4) and to outcries, and perils, and p
ersecutions, and a wandering life, and the pressure of difficulties, and all ki
nds of trouble, such as befell me in the time of Decius and Sabinus,(5) and suc
h also as I have been suffering under the present severities be of AEmilianus?
But where in the world did Germanus make his appearance? And what mention is ma
de of him? But I retire from this  huge act of folly into which I am suffering
myself to fall on account of Germanus; and accordingly I forbear giving to the
brethren, who already have full knowledge of these things, a particular and det
ailed narrative of all that happened.

EPISTLE XI.--TO HERMAMMON.(6)

    1. But Gallus did not understand the wickedness of Decius, nor did he note
beforehand what it was that wrought his ruin. But he stumbled at the very stone
 which was lying before his eyes; for when his sovereignty was in a prosperous
position, and when affairs were turning out according to his wish,(7) he oppres
sed those holy men who interceded with God on behalf of his peace and his welfa
re. And consequently, persecuting them, he persecuted also the prayers offered
in his own behalf.
    2. And to John a revelation is made in like manner:(8) "And there was given
 unto him," he says, "a mouth speaking great things, and blasphemy; and power w
as given unto him, and forty and two months."(9) And one finds both  things to
wonder at in Valerian's case; and most especially has one to consider how diffe
rent it  was with him before these events,(10)--how mild and well-disposed he w
as towards the men of God. For among the emperors who preceded him, there was n
ot one who exhibited so kindly and favourable a disposition toward them as he d
id; yea, even those who were said to have become Christians openly(11) did not
receive them with that extreme friendliness and graciousness with which he rece
ived them at the beginning

107

of his reign; and his whole house was filled then with the pious, and it was it
self a very church of God. But the master and president(1) of the Magi of Egypt
(2) prevailed on him to abandon that course, urging him to slay and persecute t
hose pure and holy men as adversaries and obstacles to their accursed and abomi
nable incantations. For there are, indeed, and there were men who, by their sim
ple presence, and by merely showing themselves, and by simply breathing and utt
ering some words, bare been able to dissipate the artifices of wicked demons. B
ut he put it into his mind to practise the impure rites of initiation, and dete
stable juggleries, and execrable sacrifices, and to slay miserable children, an
d to make oblations of the offspring of unhappy fathers, and to divide the bowe
ls of the newly-born, and to mutilate and cut up the creatures made by God, as
if by such means they(3) would attain to blessedness.
    3. Afterwards  he subjoins the following:--Splendid surely were the thank-o
fferings, then, which Macrianus brought them(4) for that empire which was the o
bject of his hopes; who, while formerly reputed as the sovereign's faithful pub
lic treasurer,(5) had yet no mind for anything which was either reasonable in i
tself or conducive to the public good,(6) but subjected himself to that curse o
f prophecy which says, "Woe unto those who prophesy from their own heart, and s
ee not the public good!"(7) For he did not discern that providence which regula
tes all things; nor did he think of the judgment of Him who is before all, and
through all, and over all. Wherefore he also became an enemy to His Catholic Ch
urch; and besides that, he alienated and estranged himself from the mercy of Go
d, and fled to the utmost possible distance from His salvation.(8) And in this
indeed he demonstrated the reality of the peculiar significance of his name.(9)
    4. And again, after some other matters, he proceeds thus:--For Valerian was
 instigated to these acts by this man, and was thereby exposed to contumely and
 reproach, according to the word spoken by the Lord to Isaiah: "Yea, they have
chosen their own ways, and their own abominanations in which their souls deligh
ted; I also will choose their mockeries,(10) and will recompense their sin."(11
) But this man(12) (Macrianus), being maddened with his passion for the empire,
 all unworthy of it as he was, and at the same time having no capacity for assu
ming the insignia of imperial government,(13) by reason of his crippled(14) bod
y,(15) put forward his two sons as the bearers, so to speak, of their father's
offences. For unmistakeably apparent in their case was the truth of that declar
ation made by God, when He said, "Visiting the iniquities of the fathers upon t
he children, unto the third and fourth generation of them that hate me." For he
 heaped his own wicked passions, for which he had failed in securing satisfacti
on,(16) upon the heads of his sons, and thus wiped off(17) upon them his own wi
ckedness, and transferred to them, too, the hatred he himself had shown toward
God.
    5.(18) That man,(19) then, after he had betrayed the one and made war upon
the other of the emperors preceding him, speedily perished, with his whole fami
ly, root and branch. And Gallienus was proclaimed, and acknowledged by all. And
 he was at once an old emperor and a new; for he was prior to those, and he als
o survived them. To this effect indeed is the word spoken by the Lord to Isaiah
: "Behold, the things which were from the beginning have come to pass; and ther
e are new things which shall now arise."(20) For as a cloud which intercepts th
e sun's rays, and overshadows it for a little, obscures it, and appears itself
in its place, but again, when the cloud has passed by or melted away, the sun,
which had risen before, comes forth again and shows itself: so did this Macrian
us put himself forward,(21) and achieve access(22) for himself even to the very

108

empire of Gallienus now established; but now he is that no more, because indeed
 he never was it, while this other, i.e., Gallienus, is just as he was. And his
 empire, as if it had cast off old age, and had purged itself of the wickedness
 formerly attaching to it, is at present in a more  vigorous and flourishing co
ndition, and is now seen and heard of at greater distances, and stretches abroa
d in every direction.
    6. Then he further indicates the exact time at which he wrote this account,
 as follows:--And it occurs to me again to review the days of the imperial year
s. For I see that those most impious men, whose names may have been once so fam
ous, have in a short space become nameless. But our more pious and godly prince
(1) has passed his septennium, and is now in his ninth year, in which we are to
 celebrate the festival.(2)

EPISTLE XII.--TO THE ALEXANDRIANS.(3)

    1. To other men, indeed, the present state of matters would not appear to o
ffer a fit season for a festival: and this certainly is no festal time to them;
 nor, in sooth, is any other that to them. And I say this, not only of occasion
s manifestly sorrowful,(4) but even or all occasions whatsoever which people mi
ght consider to be most joyous.(5) And now certainly all things are turned to m
ourning, and all men are in grief, and lamentations resound through the city, b
y reason of the multitude of the dead and of those who are dying day by day. Fo
r as it is written in the case of the first-born of the Egyptians, so now too a
 great cry has arisen. "For there is not a house in which there is not one dead
."(6) And would that even this were all!
    2. Many terrible calamities, it is true, have also befallen us before this.
 For first they drove us away; and though we were quite alone, and pursued by a
ll, and in the way of being slain, we kept our festival, even at such a time. A
nd every place that had been the scene of some of the successive sufferings whi
ch befell any of us, became a seat for our solemn assemblies,--the field, the d
esert, the ship, the inn, the prison,--all alike. The most gladsome festival of
 all, however, has been celebrated by those perfect martyrs who have sat down a
t the feast in heaven. And after these things war and famine surprised us. Thes
e were calamities which we seared, indeed, with the heathen. But we had also to
 bear by ourselves alone those ills with which they outraged us, and we bad at
the same time to sustain our part in those things which they either did to each
 other or suffered at each other's hands; while again we rejoiced deeply in tha
t peace of Christ which He imparted to us alone.
    3. And after we and they together had enjoyed a very brief season of rest,
this pestilence next assailed us,--a calamity truly more dreadful to them than
all other objects of dread, and more intolerable than any other kind of trouble
 whatsoever;(7) and a misfortune which, as a certain writer of their own declar
es, alone prevails over all hope. To us. however, it was not so; but in no less
 measure than other ills it proved an instrument for our training and probation
. For it by no means kept aloof from us, although it spread with greatest viole
nce among the heathen.
    4. To these statements he in due succession makes this addition:--Certainly
 very many of our brethren, while, in their exceeding love and brotherly-kindne
ss, they did not spare themselves, but kept by each other, and visited the sick
 without thought of their own peril, and ministered to them assiduously, and tr
eated them for their healing in Christ, died from time to time most joyfully al
ong with them, lading themselves with pains derived from others, and drawing up
on themselves their neighbours' diseases, and willingly taking over to their ow
n persons the burden of the sufferings of those around them.(8) And many who

109

had thus cured others of their sicknesses, and restored them to strength, died
themselves, having transferred to their own bodies the death that lay upon thes
e. And that common saying, which else seemed always to be only a polite form of
 address,(1) they expressed in actual fact then, as they departed this life, li
ke the "off-scourings of all.(2) Yea, the very best of our brethren have depart
ed this life in this manner, including some presbyters and some deacons, and am
ong the people those who were in highest reputation: so that this very form of
death, in virtue of the distinguished piety and the steadfast faith which were
exhibited in it, appeared to come in nothing beneath martyrdom itself.
    5. And they took the bodies of the saints on their upturned hands? and on t
heir bosoms, and closed(4) their eyes, and shut their mouths. And carrying them
 in company,(5) and laying them out decently, they clung to them, and embraced
them, and prepared them duly with washing and with attire. And then in a little
 while after they had the same services done for themselves, as those who survi
ved were ever following those who departed before them. But among the heathen a
ll was the very reverse. For they thrust aside any who began to be sick, and ke
pt aloof even from their dearest friends, and cast the sufferers out upon the p
ublic roads half dead, and left them unburied, and treated them with utter cont
empt  when they died, steadily avoiding any kind of communication and intercour
se with death; which, however, it was not easy for them altogether to escape, i
n spite of the many precautions they employed.(6)

EPISTLE XIII.--TO HIERAX, A BISHOP IN EGYPT.(7)

    1. But what wonder should there be if I find it difficult to communicate by
 letter with those who are settled in remote districts, when it seems beyond my
 power even to reason with myself, and to take counsel with(8) my own soul? For
 surely epistolary communications are very requisite for me with those who are,
 as it were, my own bowels, my closest associates, and my brethren--one in soul
 with myself, and members, too, of the same Church. And yet no way opens up by
which I can transmit such addresses. Easier, indeed, would it be for one, I do
not say merely to pass beyond the limits of the  province, but to cross from ea
st to west, than to travel from this same Alexandria to Alexandria. For the mos
t central pathway in this city(9) is vaster(10) and more impassable even than t
hat extensive and untrodden desert which Israel only traversed in two generatio
ns; and our smooth and waveless harbours have become an image of that sea throu
gh which the people drove, at the time when it divided itself and stood up like
 walls on either side, and in whose thoroughfare the Egyptians were drowned. Fo
r often they have appeared like the Red Sea, in consequence of the slaughter pe
rpetrated in them. The river, too, which flows by the city, has sometimes appea
red drier than the waterless desert, and more parched than that wilderness in w
hich Israel was so overcome with thirst on their journey, that they kept crying
 out against Moses, and the water was made to stream for them from the precipit
ous(11) rock by the power of Him who alone doeth wondrous things. And sometimes
, again, it has risen in such flood-tide, that it has overflowed all the countr
y round about, and the roads, and the fields, as if it threatened to bring upon
 us once more that deluge of waters which occurred in the days of Noah.
    2. But now it always flows onward, polluted with blood and slaughters and t
he drowning struggles of men, just as it did of old, when on Pharaoh's account
it was changed by Moses into blood, and made putrid. And what other liquid coul
d cleanse water, which itself cleanses all things? How could that ocean, so vas
t and impassable for men, though poured out on it, ever purge this bitter sea?
Or how could even that great river which streams forth from Eden,(12) though it
 were to discharge the four hearts into which it is divided into the one channe
l of the Gihon,(13) wash away these pollutions? Or when will this air, befouled
 as it is by noxious exhalations which rise in every direction, become pure aga
in? For there are such vapours sent forth from the earth, and such blasts from
the sea, and breezes from the rivers, and reeking mists from the harbours, that
 for dew we might suppose ourselves to have the impure fluids(14) of the corpse
s which are rotting in all the underlying elements. And yet, after all this, me
n are amazed, and are at a loss to understand whence

110

come these constant pestilences, whence these terrible diseases, whence these m
any kinds of fatal inflictions, whence all that large and multiform destruction
 of human life, and what reason there is why this mighty city no longer contain
s within it as great a number of inhabitants, taking all parties into account,
from tender children up to those far advanced in old age, as once it maintained
 of those alone whom it called hale old men.(1) But those from forty years of a
ge up to seventy were so much more numerous then, that their number cannot be m
ade up now even when those from fourteen to eighty years of age have been added
 to the roll and register of persons who are recipients of the public allowance
s of grain. And those who are youngest in appearance have now become, as it wer
e, equals in age with those who of old were the most aged. And yet, although th
ey thus see the human race constantly diminishing and wasting away upon the ear
th, they have no trepidation in the midst of this increasing and advancing cons
umption and annihilation of their own
number.

         EPISTLE XIV.--FROM HIS FOURTH FESTIVAL EPISTLE.(2)

    Love is altogether and for ever on the alert, and casts about to do some go
od even to one who is unwilling to receive it. And many a time the man who shri
nks from it under a feeling of shame, and who declines to accept services of ki
ndness on the ground of unwillingness to become troublesome to others, and who
chooses rather to bear the burden of his own grievances than cause annoyance an
d anxiety to any one, is importuned by the man who is full of love to bear with
 his aids, and to suffer himself to be helped by another, though it might be as
 one sustaining a wrong, and thus to do a very great service, not to himself, b
ut to another, in permitting that other to be the agent in putting an end to th
e ill in which he has been involved.

ELUCIDATION.

(Apocalypse, note 7, p. 105, and note 9, p. 106.)

    The moderation of Dionysius is hardly less conspicuous than his fearlessnes
s of inquiry. in the questions he raises about the Apocalypse.(1) He utterly re
fuses to reject it.(2) He testifies to the value set upon it by his fellow-Chri
stians. Only, he doubts as to (the John) the "inspired person" who was its auth
or, and with critical skill exposes the inferiority of the Greek of the Apocaly
pse to that of the Gospel and Epistles of St. John. Obviously he accepts it as
part of the canon, only doubting as to the author. Modestly he owns that it pas
ses his understanding. So Calvin forbore to comment upon it, and owned to "head
ache" when he came to it.

111

THE WORKS OF DIONYSIUS. EXEGETICAL FRAGMENTS.(1)

         1.--A COMMENTARY ON THE BEGINNING OF ECCLESIASTES.(2)

CHAP. I.

    VER. I. "The words of the son of David, king of Israel in Jerusalem."
    In like manner also Matthew calls the Lord the son of David.(3)
    3. "What profit hath a man of all his labour which he taketh under
the sun?"
    For what man is there who, although he may have become rich by toiling afte
r the objects of this earth, has been able to make himself three cubits in stat
ure, if he is naturally only of two cubits in stature? Or who, if blind, has by
 these means recovered his sight? Therefore we ought to direct our toils to a g
oal beyond the sun: for thither, too, do the exertions of the virtues reach.
    4. "One generation passeth away, and another generation cometh: but
 the earth abideth for ever" (unto the age).
    Yes, unto the age,(4) but not unto the ages.(5)
    16. "I communed with mine own heart, saying, Lo, I am come to great
  estate, and have gotten more wisdom than all they that have been          bef
ore me in Jerusalem; yea, my heart had great experience of          wisdom and
knowledge.
    17. I knew parables and science: that this indeed is also the          spir
it's choice.(6)
    18. For in multitude of wisdom is multitude of knowledge: and he that
   increaseth knowledge increaseth grief."
    I was vainly puffed up, and increased wisdom; not the wisdom which God has
given, but that wisdom of which Paul says, "The wisdom of this world is foolish
ness with God."(7) For in

this Solomon had also an experience surpassing prudence, and above the measure
of all the ancients. Consequently he shows the vanity of it, as what follows in
 like manner demonstrates: "And my heart uttered(8) many things: I knew wisdom,
 and knowledge, and parables, and sciences." But this was not the genuine wisdo
m or knowledge, but that which, as Paul says, puffeth up. He spake, moreover, a
s it is written,(9) three thousand parables. But these were not parables of a s
piritual kind, but only such as fit the common polity of men; as, for instance,
 utterances about animals or medicines. For which reason  he has added in a ton
e of raillery, "I knew that this also is the spirit's choice." He speaks also o
f the multitude of knowledge, not the knowledge of the Holy Spirit, but that wh
ich the prince of this world works, and which he conveys to men in order to ove
rreach their souls, with officious questions as to the measures of heaven, the
position of earth, the bounds of the sea. But he says also, "He that increaseth
 knowledge increaseth sorrow." For they search even into things deeper than the
se,--inquiring, for example, what necessity there is for fire to go upward, and
 for water to go downward; and when they have learned that it is because the on
e is light and the other heavy, they do but increase sorrow: for the question s
till remains, Why might it not be the very reverse?

CHAP. II.

    Ver. I. "I said in mine heart, Go to now, make trial as in mirth, and
        behold in good. And this, too, is vanity."
    For it was for the sake of trial, and in accordance with what comes by the
loftier and the severe life, that he entered into pleasure, And he makes mentio
n of the mirth, which men call so. And he says, "in good," referring to what me
n call good things, which are not capable of giving life to their possessor. an
d which make

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the man who engages in them vain like themselves.
     2. "I said of laughter, It is mad;(1) and of mirth, What doest          th
ou?"
     Laughter has a twofold madness; because madness begets laughter, and does
not allow the sorrowing for sins; and also because a man of that sort is posses
sed with madness,(2) in the confusing of seasons, and places, and persons. For
he flees from those who sorrow. "And to mirth, What doest thou?" Why dost thou
repair to those who are not at liberty to be merry? Why to the drunken, and the
 avaricious, and the rapacious? And why this phrase, "as wine? "3 Because wine
makes the heart merry; and it acts upon the poor in spirit. The flesh, however,
 also makes the heart merry, when it acts in a regular and moderate fashion.
     3. "And my heart directed me in wisdom, and to overcome in mirth,
 until I should know what is that good thing to the sons of men          which
they shall do under the sun for the number of the days of          their life."
    Being directed, he says, by wisdom, I overcame pleasures in mirth. Moreover
, for me the aim of knowledge was to occupy myself with          nothing vain,
but to find the good; for if a person finds that, he does not miss the discernm
ent also of the profitable. The sufficient is also the opportune,(4) and is com
mensurate with the length of life.
    4. "I made me great works; I builded me houses; I planted me
 vineyards.
    5. I made me gardens and orchards.
    6. I made me pools of water, that by these I
       might rear woods producing trees.
    7. I got me servants and maidens, and had servants born in my house;
 also I had large possessions of great and small cattle above all that were in
Jerusalem before me.
    8. I gathered me also silver and gold, and the peculiar treasure of
kings and of the provinces. I gat me men-singers and women-       singers, and
the delights of the sons of men, as cups and the        cupbearer.
    9. And I was great, and increased more than all that were before me
  in Jerusalem: also my wisdom remained with me.
    10. And whatsoever mine eyes desired, I kept not from them; I        withhe
ld not my heart from any pleasure."
    You see how he reckons up a multitude of houses and fields, and the other t
hings which he  mentions, and then finds nothing profitable in them. For neithe
r was he any better in soul by

reason of these things, nor by their means did he gain friendship with God. Nec
essarily he is led to speak also of the true riches and the  abiding property.
Being minded, therefore, to show what kinds of possessions remain with the poss
essor, and continue steadily and maintain themselves for him, he adds: "Also my
 wisdom remained with me." For this alone remains, and all these other things,
which he has already reckoned up, flee away and depart. Wisdom, therefore, rema
ined with me, and I remained in virtue of it. For those other things fall, and
also cause the fall of the very persons who run after them. But, with the inten
tion of instituting a comparison between wisdom and those things which are held
 to be good among men, he adds these words, "And whatsoever mine eyes desired,
I kept not from them," and so forth; whereby he describes as evil, not only tho
se toils which they endure who toil in gratifying themselves with pleasures, bu
t those, too, which by necessity and constraint men have to sustain for their m
aintenance day by day, labouring at their different occupations in the sweat of
 their faces. For the labour, he says, is great; but the art(5) by the labour i
s temporary, adding(6) nothing serviceable among things that please. Wherefore
there is no profit. For where there is no excellence there is no profit. With r
eason, therefore, are the objects of such solicitude but vanity, and the spirit
's choice. Now this name of "spirit" he gives to the "soul." For choice is a qu
ality, not a motion.(7) And David says: "Into Thy hands I commit my spirit."(8)
 And in good truth "did my wisdom remain with me," for it made me know and unde
rstand, so as to enable me to speak of all that is not advantageous(9) under th
e sun. If, therefore, we desire the righteously profitable, if we seek the trul
y advantageous, if in is our aim to be incorruptible, let us engage those labou
rs which reach beyond the sun. For in these there is no vanity, and there is no
t the choice of a spirit at once inane and hurried hither and thither to no pur
pose.
     12. "And I turned myself to behold wisdom, and madness, and folly:
   for what man is there that shall come after counsel in all           those t
hings which it has done?"(10)
    He means the wisdom which comes from God, and which also remained with him.
 And by madness and folly he designates all the labours of men, and the vain an
d silly pleasure they have in them. Distinguishing these, therefore, and their
measure, and blessing the true wisdom, he has added: "For what man is there tha
t shall

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come after counsel?" For this counsel instructs us in the wisdom that is such i
ndeed, and gifts us with deliverance from madness and folly.
    13. "Then I saw that wisdom excelleth folly, as much as light
         excelleth darkness."
    He does not say this in the way of comparison. For things which are contrar
y to each other, and mutually destructive, cannot be compared. But his decision
 was, that the one is to be chosen, and the other avoided. To like effect is th
e saying, "Men loved darkness rather than light."(1) For the term "rather" in t
hat passage expresses the choice of the person loving, and not the comparison o
f the objects themselves.
    14. "The wise man's eyes are in his head, but the fool walketh in
         darkness."
    That man always inclines earthward, he means, and has the ruling faculty(2)
 darkened. It is true, indeed, that we men have all of us our eyes in our head,
 if we speak of the mere disposition of the body. But he speaks here of the eye
s of the mind. For as the eyes of the swine do not turn naturally up towards he
aven, just because it is made by nature to have an inclination toward the belly
; so the mind of the man who has once been enervated by pleasures is not easily
 diverted from the tendency thus assumed, because he has not "respect unto all
the commandments of the Lord.(3) Again: Christ is the head of the Church."(4) A
nd they, therefore, are the wise who walk in His way; for He Himself has said,
"I am the way."(5) On this account, then, it becomes the wise man always to kee
p the eyes of his mind directed toward Christ Himself, in order that he may do
nothing out of measure, neither being lifted up in heart in the time of prosper
ity, nor becoming negligent in the day of adversity: "for His judgments are a g
reat deep,"(6) as you will learn more exactly from what is to follow.
    14. "And I perceived myself also that one event happeneth to them
         all.
    15. Then said I in my heart, As it happeneth to the fool, so it
         happeneth even to me; and why was I then more wise?"
    The run of the discourse in what follows deals with those who are of a mean
 spirit as regards this present life, and in whose judgment the article of deat
h and all the anomalous pains of the body are a kind of dreaded evil, and who o
n this account hold that there is no profit in a life of virtue, because there
is no difference made in ills like these between the wise man and the fool. He
speaks consequently of these as the words of a madness inclining to utter sense
lessness; whence he also adds this sentence, "For the fool talks over-much;"(7)
 and by the "fool" here he means himself, and every one who reasons in that way
. Accordingly he condemns this absurd way of thinking. And for the same reason
he has given utterance to such sentiments in the fears of his heart; and dreadi
ng the righteous condemnation of those who are to be heard, he solves the diffi
culty in its pressure by his own reflections. For this word, "Why was I then wi
se?" was the word of a man in doubt and difficulty whether what is expended on
wisdom is done well or to no purpose; and whether there is no difference betwee
n the wise man and the fool in point of advantage, seeing that the former is in
volved equally with the latter in the same sufferings which happen in this pres
ent world. And for this reason he says, "I spoke over-largely(8) in my heart,"
in thinking that there is no difference between the wise man and the fool.
    16. "For there is no remembrance of the wise equally with the fool
         for ever."
    For the events that happen in this life are all transitory, be they even th
e painful incidents, of which he says, "As all things now are consigned to obli
vion."(9) For after a short space has passed by, all the things that befall men
 in this life perish in forgetfulness. Yea, the very persons to whom these thin
gs have happened are not remembered all in like manner, even although they may
have gone through like chances in life. For they are not remembered for these,
but only for what they may have evinced of wisdom or folly, virtue or vice. The
 memories of such are not extinguished (equally) among men in consequence of th
e changes of lot befalling them. Wherefore he has added this: "And how shall th
e wise man die along with the fool? The death of sinners, indeed, is evil: yet
the memory of the just is blessed, but the name of the wicked is extinguished."
(10)
    22. "For that falls to man in all his labour."
    In truth, to those who occupy their minds with the distractions of life, li
fe becomes a painful thing, which, as it were, wounds the heart with its goads,
 that is, with the lustful desires of increase. And sorrowful also is the solic
itude connected with covetousness: it does not so much gratify those who are su
ccessful in it, as it pains those who are unsuccessful; while the day is spent
in laborious anxieties, and the night puts sleep to flight from the eyes, with
the cares of making gain. Vain, therefore, is the zeal of the man who looks to
these things.
    24. "And there is nothing good for a man, but what he eats and
         drinks, and what

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         will show to his soul good in his labour. This also I saw, that
         it is from the hand of God.
    25. For who eats and drinks from his own resources?"(1) That the discourse
does not deal now with material meats, he will show by what follows; namely, "I
t is better to go to the house of mourning than to go to the house of feasting.
"(2) And so in the present passage he proceeds to add: "And (what) will show to
 his soul good in its labour." And surely mere material meats and drinks are no
t the soul's good. For the flesh, when luxuriously nurtured, wars against the s
oul, and rises in revolt against the spirit. And how should not intemperate eat
ings and drinkings also be contrary to God?(3) He speaks, therefore, of things
mystical. For no one shall partake of the spiritual table, but one who is calle
d by Him, and who has listened to the wisdom which says, "Take and eat."(4)

CHAP. III.

    Ver. 3. "There is a time to kill, and a time to heal."
    To "kill," in the case of him who perpetrates unpardonable transgression; a
nd to "heal," in the case of him who can show a wound that will bear remedy.
    4. "A time to weep, and a time to laugh."
    A time to weep, when it is the time of suffering; as when the Lord also say
s, "Verily I say unto you, that ye shall weep and lament."(5) But to laugh, as
concerns the resurrection: "For your sorrow," He says, "shall be turned into jo
y."(6)
    4. "A time to mourn, and a time to dance."
    When one thinks of the death which the transgression of Adam brought on us,
 it is a time to mourn; but it is a time to hold festal gatherings when we call
 to mind the resurrection from the dead which we expect through the new Adam.(7
)
    6. "A time to keep, and a time to cast away."
    A time to keep the Scripture against the unworthy, and a time to put it for
th for the worthy. Or, again: Before the incarnation it was a time to keep the
letter of the law; but it was a time to cast it away when the truth came in its
 flower.
    7. "A time to keep silence, and a time to speak."
    A time to speak, when there are hearers who receive the word; but a time to
 keep silence, when the hearers pervert the word; as Paul says: "A man that is
an heretic, after the first and second admonition, reject."(8)
    10. "I have seen, then, the travail which God hath given to the sons
         of men to be exercised in it.
    11. Everything that He hath made is beautiful in its time: and He
        hath set the whole world in their heart; so that no man can find
  out the work that God maketh from the beginning and to the end."
    And this is true. For no one is able to comprehend the works of God altoget
her. Moreover, the world is the work of God. No one, then, can find out as to t
his world what is its space from the beginning and unto the end, that is to say
, the period appointed for it, and the limits before determined unto it; forasm
uch as God has set the whole world as a realm of ignorance in our hearts. And t
hus one says: "Declare to me the shortness of my days."(9) In this manner, and
for our profit, the end of this world (age)--that is to say, this present life-
-is a thing of which we are ignorant.

II.--THE GOSPEL ACCORDING TO LUKE.

AN INTERPRETATION.--CHAP. XXII. 42-48.

    Ver. 42. "Father, if Thou be willing to remove(10) this cup from me:
        nevertheless not my will, but Thine, be done."
    But let these things be enough to say on the subject of the will. This word
, however, "Let the cup pass," does not mean, Let it not come near me, or appro
ach me.(11) For what can "pass from Him," certainly must first come nigh Him; a
nd what does pass thus from Him, must be by Him. For if it does not reach Him,
it cannot pass from Him. For He takes to Himself the person of man, as having b
een made man. Wherefore also on this occasion He deprecates the doing of the in
ferior, which is His own, and begs that the superior should be done, which is H
is Father's, to wit, the divine will; which again, however, in respect of the d
ivinity, is one and the same will in Himself and in the Father. For it was the
Father's will that He should pass through every trial (temptation); and the Fat
her Himself in a marvellous manner brought Him on this course, not indeed with
the trial itself as His goal, nor in order simply that He might enter into that
, but in order that He might prove Himself to be above the trial, and also beyo
nd it.(12) And surely it is the fact, that the Saviour asks neither what is imp
ossible, nor what

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is impracticable, nor what is contrary to the will of the Father. It is somethi
ng possible; for I Mark makes mention of His saying, "Abba,   Father, all thing
s are possible unto Thee."(1) And they are possible if He wills them; for Luke
tells us that He said, "Father, if Thou be willing, remove(2) this cup from me.
" The Holy Spirit, therefore, apportioned among the evangelists, makes up the f
ull account of our Sav-iour's whole disposition by the expressions of these sev
eral narrators together. He does not, then, ask of the Father what the Father w
ills not. For the words, "If Thou be willing," were demonstrative of subjection
 and docility? not of ignorance or hesitancy. For this reason, the other script
ure says, "All things are possible unto Thee." And Matthew again admirably desc
ribes the submission and humility(4) when he says, "If it be possible." For unl
ess I adapt the sense in this way,(5) some will perhaps assign an impious signi
fication to this expression, "If it be possible;" as if there were anything imp
ossible for God to do, except that only which He does not will to do. But ... b
eing straightway strengthened in His humanity by His ancestral(6) divinity, he
urges the safer petition, and desires no longer that should be the case, but th
at it might be accomplished in accordance with the Father's good pleasure, in g
lory, in constancy, and in fulness. For John, who has given us the record of th
e sublimest and divinest of the Saviour's words and deeds, heard Him speak thus
: "And the cup which my Father hath given me, shall I not drink it?"(7) Now, to
 drink the cup was to discharge the ministry and the whole economy of trial wit
h fortitude, to follow and fulfil the Father's determination, and to surmount a
ll apprehensions. And the exclamation, "Why hast Thou forsaken me?" was in due
accordance with the requests He had previously made: Why is it that death has b
een in conjunction with me all along up till now, and that I bear not yet the c
up? This I judge to have been the Saviour's meaning in this concise utterance.
    And He certainly spake truth then. Nevertheless He was not forsaken. But He
 drank out the cup at once, as His plea had implied, and then passed away.(8) A
nd the vinegar which was handed to Him seems to me to have been a symbolical th
ing. For the turned wine(9) indicated very well the quick turning(10) and chang
e which He sustained, when He passed from His passion to impassibility, and fro
m death to deathlessness, and from the position of one judged to that of one ju
dging, and from subjection under the despot's power to the exercise of kingly d
ominion. And the sponge, as I think, signified the complete transfusion(11) of
the Holy Spirit that was realized in Him. And the reed symbolized the royal sce
ptre and the divine law. And the hyssop expressed that quickening and saving re
surrection of His, by which He has also brought health to us.(12)
    43. "And there appeared an angel unto Him from heaven, strengthening
        Him.
    44. And being in an agony, He prayed more earnestly; and His sweat
was as it were great drops of blood falling down to the ground."
    The phrase, "a sweat of blood," is a current parabolic expression used of p
ersons in intense pain and distress; as also of one in bitter grief people say
that the man "weeps tears of blood." For in using the expression, "as it were g
reat drops of blood," he does not declare the drops of sweat to have been actua
lly drops of blood.(13) For he would not then have said that these drops of swe
at were like blood. For such is the force of the expression, "as it were great
drops." But rather with the object of making it plain that the Lord's body was
not bedewed with any kind of subtle moisture which had only the show and appear
ance of actuality, but that it was really suffused all over with sweat in the s
hape of large thick drops, he has taken the great drops of blood as an illustra
tion of what was the case with Him. And accordingly, as by the intensity of the
 supplication and the severe agony, so also by the dense and excessive sweat, h
e made the facts patent, that the Saviour was man by nature and in reality, and
 not in mere semblance and appearance, and that He was subject to all the innoc
ent sensibilities natural to men. Nevertheless the words, "I have power to lay
down my life, and I have power to take it again,"(14) show that His passion was
 a voluntary thing; and besides that, they indicate that the life which is laid
 down and taken again is one thing, and the divinity which lays that down and t
akes it again is another.
    He says, "one thing and another," not as making a partition into two person
s, but as showing the distinction between the two natures.(15)
    And as, by voluntarily enduring the death in the flesh, He implanted incorr
uptibility in it; so

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also, by taking to Himself of His own free-will the passion of our servitude,(1
) He set in it the seeds of constancy and courage, whereby He has nerved those
who believe on Him for the mighty conflicts belonging to their witness-bearing.
 Thus, also, those drops of sweat flowed from Him in a marvellous way like grea
t drops of blood, in order that He might, as it were, drain off(2) and empty th
e fountain of the fear which is proper to our nature. For unless this had been
done with a mystical import, He certainly would not, even had He been(3) the mo
st timorous and ignoble of men, have been bedewed in this unnatural way with dr
ops of sweat like drops of blood under the mere force of His agony.
    Of like import is also the sentence in the narrative which tells us that an
 angel stood by the Saviour and strengthened Him. For this, too, bore also on t
he economy entered into on our behalf. For those who are appointed to engage in
 the sacred exertions of conflicts on account of piety, have the angels from he
aven to assist them. And the prayer, "Father, remove the cup," He uttered proba
bly not as if He feared the death itself, but with the view of challenging the
devil by these words to erect the cross for Him. With words of deceit that pers
onality deluded Adam; with the words of divinity, then, let the deceiver himsel
f now be deluded. Howbeit assuredly the will of the Son is not one thing, and t
he will of the Father another.(4) For He who wills what the Father wills, is fo
und to have the Father's will. It is in a figure, therefore, that He says, "not
 my will, but Thine." For it is not that He wishes the cup to be removed, but t
hat He refers to the Father's will the right issue of His passion, and honours
thereby the Father as the First.(5) For if the fathers(6) style one's dispositi
on gnome,(7) and if such disposition relates also to what is in consideration h
idden as if by settled purpose, how say some that the Lord, who is above all th
ese things, bears a gnomic will?(8) Manifestly that can be only by defect of re
ason.
    45. "And when He rose from prayer, and was come to His disciples, He
         found them sleeping for sorrow;
    46. And said unto them, Why sleep ye? Rise and pray, lest ye enter
         into temptation."
    For in the most general sense it holds good that it is apparently not possi
ble for any man to remain altogether without experience of ill. For, as one say
s, the whole world lieth in wickedness;"(10) and again, "The most of the days o
f man are labour and trouble."(11) But you will
perhaps say, What difference is there between being tempted, and falling or ent
ering into temptation? Well, if one is overcome of evil--and he will be overcom
e unless he struggles against it himself, and unless God protects him with His
shield--that man has entered into temptation, and is in it, and is brought unde
r it like one that is led captive. But if one withstands and endures, that man
is indeed tempted; but he has not entered into temptation, or fallen into it. T
hus Jesus was led up of the Spirit, not indeed to enter into temptation, but to
 be tempted of the devil.(12) And Abraham, again, did not enter into temptation
, neither did God lead him into temptation, but He tempted (tried) him; yet He
did not drive him into temptation. The Lord Himself, moreover, tempted (tried)
the disciples. Thus the wicked one, when he tempts us, draws us into the tempta
tions, as dealing himself with the temptations of evil. But God, when He tempts
 (tries), adduces the temptations (trials) as one untempted of evil. For God, i
t is said, "cannot be tempted of evil."(13) The devil, therefore, drives us on
by violence, drawing us to destruction; but God leads us by hand, training us f
or our salvation.
    47. "And while He yet spake, behold a multitude, and he that was          c
alled Judas, one of the twelve, went before them, and drew near          unto J
esus, and kissed Him.
    48. But Jesus said unto him, Judas, betrayest thou the Son of man
with a kiss?
    How wonderful this endurance of evil by the Lord, who even kissed the trait
or, and spake words softer even than the kiss! For He did not say, O thou abomi
nable, yea, utterly abominable traitor, is this the return you make to us for s
o great kindness? But, somehow, He says simply "Judas," using the proper name,
which was the address that would be used by one who commiserated a person, or w
ho wished to call him back, rather than of one in anger. And He did not say, "t
hy Master, the Lord, thy benefactor;" but He said simply, "the Son of man," tha
t is, the tender and meek one: as if He meant to say, Even supposing that I was
 not your Master, or Lord, or benefactor, dost thou still betray one so guilele
ssly and so tenderly affected towards thee, as even to kiss thee in the hour of
 thy treachery, and that, too, when

117

the kiss was the signal for thy treachery? Blessed art Thou, O Lord! How great
is this example of the endurance of evil that Thou hast shown us in Thine own p
erson! how great, too, the pattern of lowliness! Howbeit, the Lord has given us
 this example, to show us that we ought not to give up offering our good counse
l to our brethren, even should nothing remarkable be effected by our words.
    For as incurable wounds are wounds which cannot be remedied either by sever
e applications, or by those which may act more pleasantly upon them;(1) so(2) t
he soul, when it is once carried captive, and gives itself up to any kind of(3)
 wickedness, and refuses to consider what is really profitable for it, although
 a myriad counsels should echo in it, takes no good to itself. But just as if t
he sense of hearing were dead within it, it receives no benefit from exhortatio
ns addressed to it; not because it cannot, but only because it will not. This w
as what happened in the case of Judas. And yet Christ, although He knew all the
se things beforehand, did not at any time, from the beginning on to the end, om
it to do all in the way of counsel that depended on Him. And inasmuch as we kno
w that such was His practice, we ought also unceasingly to endeavour to set tho
se right(4) who prove careless, even although no actual good may seem to be eff
ected by that counsel.

III.--ON LUKE XXII. 42, ETC.(5)

    But let these things be enough to say on the subject of the will. This word
, however, "Let the cup pass," does not mean, Let it not come near me, or appro
ach me. For what can pass from Him must certainly first come nigh Him, and what
 does thus pass from Him must be by Him. For if it does not reach Him, it canno
t pass from Him. Accordingly, as if He now felt it to be present, He began to b
e in pain, and to be troubled, and to be sore amazed, and to be in an agony. An
d as if it was at hand and placed before Him, He does not merely say "the cup,"
 but He indicates it by the word "this." Therefore, as what passes from one is
something which neither has no approach nor is permanently settled with one, so
 the Saviour's first request is that the temptation which has come softly and p
lainly upon Him, and associated itself lightly with Him, may be turned aside. A
nd this is the first form of that freedom from falling into temptation, which H
e also counsels the weaker disciples to make the subject of their prayers; that
, namely, which concerns the approach of temptation: for it must needs be that
offences come, but yet those to whom they come ought not to fall into the tempt
ation. But the most perfect mode in which this freedom from entering into tempt
ation is exhibited, is what He expresses in His second request, when He says no
t merely, "Not as I will," but also, "but as Thou wilt." For with God there is
no temptation in evil; but He wills to give us good exceeding abundantly above
what we ask or think. That His will, therefore, is the perfect will, the Belove
d Himself knew; and often does He say that He has come to do that will, and not
 His own will,--that is to say, the will of men. For He takes to Himself the pe
rson of men, as having been made man. Wherefore also on this occasion He deprec
ates the doing of the inferior, which is His own, and begs that the superior sh
ould be done, which is His Father's, to wit, the divine will, which again, howe
ver, in respect of the divinity, is one and the same will in Himself and in His
 Father. For it was the Father's will that He should pass through every trial (
temptation), and the Father Himself in a marvellous manner brought Him on this
course; not indeed, with the trial itself as His goal, nor in order simply that
 He might enter into that, but in order that He might prove Himself to be above
 the trial, and also beyond it. And surely it is the fact that the Saviour asks
 neither what is impossible, nor what is impracticable, nor what is contrary to
 the will of the Father. It is something possible, for Mark makes mention of Hi
s saying, "Abba, Father, all things are possible unto Thee;" and they are possi
ble if He wills them, for Luke tells us that He said, "Father, if Thou be willi
ng, remove this cup from me." The Holy Spirit therefore, apportioned among the
evangelists, makes up the full account of our Saviour's whole disposition by th
e expressions of these several narrators together. He does not then ask of the
Father what the Father wills not. For the words, "if Thou be willing," were dem
onstrative of subjection and docility, not of ignorance or hesitancy. And just
as when we make any request that may be accordant with his judgment, at the han
d of father or ruler or any one of those whom we respect, we are accustomed to
use the address, though not certainly as if we were in doubt about it, "if you
please;" so the Saviour also said, "if Thou be willing:" not that He thought th
at He willed something different, and thereafter learned the fact, but that He
understood exactly God's willingness to remove the cup from Him, and as doing s
o also apprehended justly that what He wills is also possible unto Him. For thi
s reason the other

118

scripture says, "All things are possible unto Thee." And Matthew again admirabl
y describes the submission and the humility, when he says, "if it be possible."
 For unless we adapt the sense in this way, some will perhaps assign an impious
 signification to this expression "if it be possible," as if there were anythin
g impossible for God to do, except that only which He does not will to do. Ther
efore the request which He made was nothing independent, nor one which pleased
Himself only, or opposed His Father's will, but one also in conformity with the
 mind of God. And yet some one may say that He is overborne and changes His min
d, and asks presently something different from what He asked before, and holds
no longer by His own will, but introduces His Father's will. Well, such truly i
s the case. Nevertheless He does not by any means make any change from one side
 to another; but He embraces another way, and a different method of carrying ou
t one and the same transaction, which is also a thing agreeable to both; choosi
ng, to wit, in place of the mode which is the inferior, and which appears unsat
isfying also to Himself, the superior and more, admirable mode marked out by th
e Father. For no doubt He did pray that the cup might pass from Him; but He say
s also, "Nevertheless, not as I will, but as Thou wilt." He longs painfully, on
 the one hand, for its passing from Him, but (He knows that) it is better as th
e Father wills. For He does not utter a petition for its not passing away now,
instead of one for its removal; but when its withdrawal is now before His view,
 He chooses rather that this should be ordered as the Father wills. For there i
s a twofold kind, of withdrawal: there is one in the instance of an object that
 has shown itself and reached another, and is gone at once on being  followed b
y it or on outrunning it, as is the case with racers when they graze each other
 in passing; and there is another in the instance of an object that has sojourn
ed and tarried with another, and sat down by it, as in the case of a marauding
band or a camp, and that after a time withdraws on being conquered, and on gain
ing the opposite  of a success. For if they prevail they do not retire, but car
ry off with them those whom they  have reduced; but if they prove unable to win
  the mastery, they withdraw themselves in disgrace. Now it was after the forme
r similitude that He wished that the cup might come into His hands, and promptl
y pass from Him again very readily and quickly; but as soon as He spake thus, b
eing at once strengthened in His humanity by the Father's divinity, He urges th
e safer petition, and desires no longer that should be the case, but that it mi
ght be accomplished in accordance with the Father's good pleasure, in glory, in
 constancy, and in fulness. For John, who has given us the record of the sublim
est and divinest of the Saviour's words and deeds, heard Him speak thus: "Act t
he cup which my Father hath given me, shall I not drink it?" Now, to drink the
cup was to discharge the ministry and the whole economy of trial with fortitude
, to follow and fulfil the Father's determination, and to surmount all apprehen
sions; and, indeed, in the very prayer which He uttered He showed that He was l
eaving these (apprehensions) behind Him. For of two objects, either may be said
 to be removed from the other: the object that remains may be said to be remove
d from the one that goes away, and the one that goes away may be said to be rem
oved from the one that remains. Besides, Matthew has indicated most clearly tha
t He did indeed pray that the cup might pass from Him, but yet that His request
 was that this should take place not as He willed, but as the Father willed it.
 The words given by Mark and Luke, again, ought to be introduced in their prope
r connection. For Mark says, "Nevertheless not what I will, but what Thou wilt;
" and Luke says, "Nevertheless not my will, but Thine be done." He did then exp
ress Himself to that effect, and He did desire that His passion might abate and
 reach its end speedily. But it was the Father's will at the same time that He
should carry out His conflict in a manner demanding sustained effort,(2) and in
 sufficient measure. Accordingly He (the Father) adduced all that assailed Him.
 But of the missiles that were hurled against Him, some were shivered in pieces
, and others were dashed back as with invulnerable arms of steel, or rather as
from the stern and immoveable rock. Blows, spittings, scourgings, death, and th
e lifting up in that death,(3) all came upon Him; and when all these were gone
through, He became silent and endured in patience unto the end, as if He suffer
ed nothing, or was already dead. But when His death was being prolonged, and wh
en it was now overmastering Him, if we may so speak, beyond His utmost strength
, He cried out to His Father, "Why hast Thou forsaken me?" And this exclamation
 was in due accordance with the requests He had previously made: Why is it that
 death has been in such close conjunction with me all along up till now, and Th
ou dost not yet bear the cup past me?(4) Have I not drank it already, and drain
ed it? But if not, my dread is that I may be utterly consumed by its continuous
 pressure;(5) and that is what would befall me, wert Thou to forsake me: then w
ould the fulfilment abide, but I would pass away, and

 119

be made of none effect.(1) Now, then, I entreat Thee, let my baptism be finishe
d, for indeed I have been straitened greatly until it should be accomplished.--
This I judge to have been the Saviour's meaning in this concise utterance. And
He certainly spake truth then. Nevertheless He was not forsaken. Albeit He dran
k out the cup at once, as His plea had implied, and then passed away. And the v
inegar which was handed to Him seems to me to have been a symbolical thing. For
 the turned wine indicated very well the quick turning and change which He sust
ained when He passed from His passion to impassibility, and from death to death
lessness, and from the position of one judged to that of one judging, and from
subjection under the despot's power to the exercise of kingly dominion. And the
 sponge, as I think, signified the complete transfusion of the Holy Spirit that
 was realized in Him. And the reed symbolized the royal sceptre and the divine
law. And the hyssop expressed that quickening and saving resurrection of His by
 which He has also brought health to us.(2) But we have gone through these matt
ers in sufficient detail on Matthew and John. With the permission of God, we sh
all speak also of the account given by Mark. But at present we shall keep to wh
at follows in our passage.

           IV.--AN EXPOSITION OF LUKE XXII. 46, ETC.(3)

    This prayer He also offered up Himself, falling repeatedly on His face; and
 on both occasions He urged His request for not entering into temptation: both
when He prayed, "If it be possible, let this cup pass from me;" and when He sai
d, "Nevertheless not as I will, but as Thou wilt." For He spoke of not entering
 into temptation, and He made that His prayer; but He did not ask that He shoul
d have no trial whatsoever in these circumstances, or(4) that no manner of hard
ship should ever befall Him. For in the most general application it holds good,
 that it does not appear to be possible for any man to remain altogether withou
t experience of ill: for, as one says, "The whole world lieth in wickedness;"(5
) and again, "The most of the days of man are labour and trouble,"(6) as men th
emselves also admit. Short is our life, and full of sorrow. Howbeit it was not
meet that He should bid them pray directly that that curse might not be fulfill
ed, which is expressed thus: "Cursed is the ground in thy works: in sorrow shal
t thou eat of it all the days of thy life;"(7)

or thus, "Earth thou art, and unto earth shall  thou return."(8) For which reas
on the Holy Scriptures, that indicate in many various ways the dire  distressfu
lness of life, designate it as a valley of weeping. And most of all indeed is t
his world a scene of pain to the saints, to whom He addresses this word, and He
 cannot lie in uttering it: "In the world ye shall have tribulation."(9) And to
 the same effect also He says by the prophet, "Many are the afflictions of the
righteous."(10) But I suppose that He refers to this entering not into temptati
on, when He speaks in the prophet's words of being delivered out of the afflict
ions. For He adds, "The Lord will deliver him out of them all." And this is jus
t in accordance with the Saviour's word, whereby He promises that they will ove
rcome their afflictions, and that they will participate in that victory which H
e has won for them. For after saying, "In the world ye shall have tribulation,"
 He added, "But be of good cheer, I have overcome the world." And again, He tau
ght them to pray that they might not fall into temptation, when He said, "And l
ead us not into temptation;" which means, "Suffer us not to fall into temptatio
n." And to show that this did not imply they should not be tempted, but really
that they should be delivered from the evil, He added, "But deliver us from evi
l." But perhaps you will say, What difference is there between being tempted, a
nd falling or entering into temptation? Well, if one is overcome of evil--and h
e will be overcome unless he struggles against it himself, and unless God prote
cts him with His shield--that man has entered into temptation, and is in it, an
d is brought under it like one that is led captive. But if one withstands and e
ndures, that man is indeed tempted; but he has not entered into temptation, or
fallen under it. Thus Jesus was led up of the Spirit, not indeed to enter into
temptation, but "to be tempted of the devil."(11) And Abraham, again, did not e
nter into temptation, neither did God lead him into temptation, but He tempted
(tried) him; yet He did not drive him into temptation. The Lord Himself, moreov
er, tempted (tried) the disciples. And thus the wicked one, when he tempts us,
draws us into the temptations, as dealing himself with the temptations of evil;
 but God, when He tempts (tries), adduces the temptations as one untempted of e
vil. For God, it is said, "cannot be tempted of evil."(12) The devil, therefore
, drives us on by violence, drawing us to destruction; but God leads us by the
hand, training us for our salvation.

120

V.--ON JOHN VIII. 12.(1)

    Now this word "I am" expresses His eternal subsistence. For if He is the re
flection of the eternal light, He must also be eternal Himself. For if the ligh
t subsists for ever, it is evident that the reflection also subsists for ever.
And that this light subsists, is known only by its shining; neither can there b
e a light that does not give light. We come back, therefore, to our illustratio
ns. If there is day, there is light; and if there is no such thing, the sun cer
tainly  cannot be present.(2) If, therefore, the sun had been eternal, there wo
uld also have been endless day. Now, however, as it is not so, the day begins w
hen the sun rises, and it ends when the sun sets. But God is eternal light, hav
ing neither beginning nor end. And along with Him there is the reflection, also
 without beginning, and everlasting. The Father, then, being eternal, the Son i
s also eternal, being light of light; and if God is the light, Christ is the re
flection; and if God is also a Spirit, as it is written, "God is a Spirit," Chr
ist, again, is called analogously Spirit.(3)

VI.--OF THE ONE SUBSTANCE.(4)

    The plant that springs from the root is something distinct from that whence
 it grows up; and yet it is of one nature with it. And the river which flows fr
om the fountain is something distinct from the fountain. For we cannot call eit
her the river a fountain, or the fountain a river. Nevertheless we allow that t
hey are both one according to nature, and also one in substance; and we admit t
hat the fountain may be conceived of as father, and that the river is what is b
egotten of the fountain.(5)

       VII.--ON THE RECEPTION OF THE LAPSED TO PENITENCE.(6)

    But now we are doing the opposite. For whereas Christ, who is the good Shep
herd, goes in quest of one who wanders, lost among the mountains, and calls him
 back when he flees from Him, and is at pains to take him up on His shoulders w
hen He has found him, we, on the contrary, harshly spurn such a one even when H
e approaches us. Yet let us not consult so miserably for ourselves, and let us
not in this way be driving the sword against ourselves. For when people set the
mselves either to do evil or to do good to others, what they do is certainly no
t confined to the carrying out of their will on those others; but just as they
attach themselves to iniquity or to goodness, they will themselves become posse
ssed either by divine virtues or by unbridled passions. And the former will bec
ome the followers and comrades of the good angels; and both in this world and i
n the other, with the enjoyment of perfect peace and immunity from all ills, th
ey will fulfil the most blessed destinies unto all eternity, and in God's fello
wship they will be for ever (in possession of) the supremest good. But these la
tter will fall away at once from the peace of God and from peace with themselve
s, and both in this world and after death they will abide with the spirits of b
lood-guiltiness.(7) Wherefore let us not thrust from us those who seek a penite
nt return; but let us receive them gladly, and number them once more with the s
tedfast, and make up again what is defective in them.

NOTE BY THE AMERICAN EDITOR.

    Frequent references to Gallandi, whose collection I have been unable to ins
pect, the cost of the best edition being about two hundred dollars, makes it wo
rth while to insert here, from a London book-catalogue, the following useful me
moranda: "Gallandii, Cong. Oral. (Andr.) Bibliotheca Veterum Patrum Antiquorumq
ue Scriptorum Ecclesiasticorum Graeco-Latina; Opera silicet eorundum minors ac
rariora usque ad xiii. Saeculum complexa, quorum clxxx. et amplius nec in Veter
i Parisiensi, neque in postrema Lugdunensi edits sunt. Venet., 1765.
    "The contents are given in Darling, col. 298-306. Of the three hundred and
eighty-nine writers enumerated, it appears that nearly two hundred are not in t
he earlier collections.
    "The contents of these great collections are, not the works of the Great Fa
thers, of whose writings separate editions have been published, but the works,
often extensive and important, of those numerous Ecclesiastical writers whose w
orks go, with the Greater Fathers referred to, to make up the sum of Church Pat
ristic literature."

                             JULIUS AFRICANUS

123

                           INTRODUCTORY NOTICE

TO

JULIUS AFRICANUS.

    [A.D. 200-232-245.] In a former volume, strengthened by a word from Archbis
hop Usher,(1) I have not hesitated to claim for Theophilus of Antioch a primary
 place among Christian chronologists. It is no detraction from the fame of our
author to admit this, and truth requires it. But the great Alexandrian school m
ust again come into view when we speak of any considerable achievements, among
early Christian writers, in this important element of all biblical, in fact, al
l historical, science. Africanus was a pupil of Heraclas, and we must therefore
 date his pupilage in Alexandria before A.D. 232, when Dionysius succeeded Hera
clas in the presidency of that school. It appears that in A.D. 226 he was perfo
rming some duty in behalf of Emmaus (Nicopolis) in Palestine; but Heraclas, who
 had acted subordinately as Origen's assistant as early as A.D. 218, could not
have become the head of the school, even provisionally, till after Origen's unh
appy ordination.(2) Let us assume the period of our author's attending the scho
ol under Heraclas to be between A.D. 228 and A.D. 232, however. We may then ven
ture to reckon his birth as circa A.D. 200. And, if he became "bishop of Emmaus
," it could hardly have been before the year 240, when he was of ripe age and e
xperience. He adds additional lustre to the age of Gregory Thaumaturgus and Dio
nysius, as well as to that of their common mother in letters and theology, the
already ancient academy of Pantaenus and of Clement. His reviving credit in mod
ern times has been largely due to the learned criticism of Dr. Routh, to whose
edition of these Fragments the student must necessarily apply. Their chief inte
rest arises from the important specimen which treats of the difficult question
of the genealogies of our Lord contained in the evangelists. For a succinct sta
tement of the points involved, and for a candid concession that they were not p
reserved to meet what modern curiosity would prefer to see established, I know
of nothing more satisfactory than the commentary of 'Wordsworth,(3) from which
I have borrowed almost wholly one of my elucidations.
    The reader will remember the specimen of our author's critical judgment whi
ch is given with the works of Origen.(4) He differed with that great author, an
d the Church Catholic has sustained his judgment as just. I regret that the Edi
nburgh editors thought it necessary to make the Letter to Origen concerning the
 Apocryphal Book of Susannah a mere preface to Origen's answer. It might have b
een quoted there as a preface; but it is too important not to be included here,
 with the other fragments of his noble contributions to primitive Christian lit
erature.
    It does not clearly appear, from the Edinburgh edition, who the translator
is; but here follows the

TRANSLATOR'S INTRODUCTORY NOTICE.

    The principal facts known to us in the life of Africanus are derived from h
imself and the Chronicon of Eusebius. He says of himself that he went to Alexan
dria on account of the fame

124

of Heraclas. In the Chronicon, under the year 226, it is stated that "Nicopolis
 in Palestine, which formerly bore the name of Emmaus, was built. Africanus, th
e author of the Chronology, acting as ambassador on behalf of it, and having th
e charge of it." Dionysius Bar-Salibi speaks of Africanus as bishop of Emmaus.
    Eusebius describes Africanus as being the author of a work called <greek>ke
stoi</greek>.(1) Suidas says that this book detailed various kinds of cures, co
nsisting of charms and written forms, and such like. Some have supposed that su
ch a work is not likely to have been written by a Christian writer: they appeal
 also to the fact that no notice is taken of the <greek>kestoi</greek> by Jerom
e in his notice of Africanus, nor by Rufinus in his translation of Eusebius. Th
ey therefore deem the clause in Eusebius an interpolation, and they suppose tha
t two bore the name of Africanus,--one the author of the <greek>kestoi</greek>,
 the other the Christian writer. Suidas identifies them, says that he was surna
med Sextus, and that he was a Libyan philosopher.
    The works ascribed to Africanus, beside the Cesti, are the following:--

    1. Five Books of Chronology. Photius(2) says of this work, that it was conc
ise, but omitted nothing of importance. It began with the cosmogony of Moses, a
nd went down to the advent of Christ. It summarized also the events from the ti
me of Christ to the reign of the Emperor Macrinus.
    2. A very famous letter to Aristides, in which he endeavoured to reconcile
the apparent discrepancies in the genealogies of Christ given by Matthew and Lu
ke.
    3. A letter to Origen, in which he endeavoured to prove that the story of S
usanna in Daniel was a forgery. A translation of this letter has been given wit
h the Works of Origen.
    The Acts of Symphorosa and her Seven Sons are attributed in the MSS. to Afr
icanus; but no ancient writer speaks of him as the author of this work.

125

THE EXTANT WRITINGS OF JULIUS AFRICANUS.

I.--THE EPISTLE TO ARISTIDES.

I.

    [AFRICANUS ON THE GENEALOGY IN THE HOLY GOSPELS.(1)--Some indeed incorrectl
y allege that this discrepant enumeration and mixing of the names both of pries
tly men, as they think, and royal, was made properly,(2) in order that Christ m
ight be shown rightfully to be both Priest and King; as if any one disbelieved
this, or had any other hope than this, that Christ is the High Priest of His Fa
ther, who presents our prayers to Him, and a supramundane King, who rules by th
e Spirit those whom He has delivered, a cooperator in the government of all thi
ngs. And this is announced to us not by the catalogue of the tribes, nor by the
 mixing of the registered generations, but by the patriarchs and prophets. Let
us not therefore descend to such religious trifling as to establish the kingshi
p and priesthood of Christ by the interchanges of the names. For the priestly t
ribe of Levi, too, was allied with the kingly tribe of Juda, through the circum
stance that Aaron married Elizabeth the l sister of Naasson,(3) and that Eleaza
r again married the daughter of Phatiel,(4) and begat children. The evangelists
, therefore, would thus have spoken falsely, affirming what was not truth, but
a fictitious commendation. And for this reason the one traced the pedigree of J
acob the father of Joseph from David through Solomon; the other traced that of
Heli also, though in a different way, the father of Joseph, from Nathan the son
 of David. And they ought not indeed to have been ignorant that both orders of
the ancestors enumerated are the generation of David, the royal tribe of Juda.(
5) For if Nathan was a prophet, so also was Solomon, and so too the father of b
oth of them; and there were prophets belonging to many of the tribes, but pries
ts belonging to none of the tribes, save the Levites only. To no purpose, then,
 is this fabrication of theirs. Nor shall an assertion of this kind prevail in
the Church of Christ against the exact truth, so as that a lie should be contri
ved for the praise and glory of Christ. For who does not know that most holy wo
rd of the apostle also, who, when he was preaching and proclaiming the resurrec
tion of our Saviour, and confidently affirming the truth, said with great fear,
 "If any say that Christ is not risen, and we assert and have believed this, an
d both hope for and preach that very thing, we are false witnesses of God, in a
lleging that He raised up Christ, whom He raised not up?"(6) And if he who glor
ifies God the Father is thus afraid lest he should seem a false witness in narr
ating a marvellous fact, how should not he be justly afraid, who tries to estab
lish the truth by a false statement, preparing an untrue opinion? For if the ge
nerations are different, and trace down no genuine seed to Joseph, and if all h
as been stated only with the view of establishing the position of Him who was t
o be born--to confirm the truth, namely, that He who was to be would be king an
d priest, there being at the same tune no proof given, but the dignity of the w
ords being brought down to a feeble hymn,--it is evident that no praise accrues
 to God from that, since it is a falsehood, but rather judgment returns on him
who asserts it, because he vaunts an unreality as though it were reality. There
fore, that we may expose the ignorance also of him who speaks thus, and prevent
 any one from stumbling at this folly, I shall set forth the true history of th
ese matters.]

II.

        For(7) whereas in Israel the names of their generations were enumerated
 either according to  nature or according to law,-- according to nature,

126

indeed, by the succession of legitimate offspring, and according to law wheneve
r another raised up children to the name of a brother dying childless; for beca
use no clear hope of resurrection was yet given them, they had a representation
 of the future promise in a kind of mortal resurrection, with the view of perpe
tuating the name of one deceased;-- whereas, then, of those entered in this gen
ealogy, some succeeded by legitimate descent as son to father, while others beg
otten in one family were introduced to another in name, mention is therefore ma
de of both-- of those who were progenitors in fact, and of those who were so on
ly in name. Thus neither of the evangelists is in error, as the one reckons by
nature and the other by law. For the several generations, viz., those descendin
g from Solomon and those from Nathan, were so intermingled(1) by the raising up
 of children to the childless,(2) and by second marriages, and the raising up o
f seed, that the same persons are quite justly reckoned to belong at one time t
o the one, and at another to the other, i.e., to their reputed or to their actu
al fathers. And hence it is that both these accounts are true, and come down to
 Joseph, with considerable intricacy indeed, but yet quite accurately.

III.

    But in order that what I have said may be made evident, I shall explain the
 interchange(3) of the generations. If we reckon the generations from David thr
ough Solomon, Matthan is  found to be the third from the end, who begat  Jacob
the father of Joseph. But if, with Luke,   we reckon them from Nathan the son o
f David, in like manner the third from the end is Melchi, whose son was Heli th
e father of Joseph. For Joseph was the son of Hell, the son of Melchi.(4) As Jo
seph, therefore, is the object proposed to us, we have to show how it is that e
ach is represented as his father, both Jacob as descending from Solomon, and He
li as descending from Nathan: first, how these two, Jacob and Heli, were brothe
rs; and then also how the fathers of these, Matthan and Melchi, being of differ
ent families, are shown to be the grandfathers of Joseph. Well, then, Matthan a
nd Melchi, having taken the same woman to wife in succession, begat children wh
o were uterine brothers, as the law did not prevent a widow,(5) whether such by
 divorce or by the death  of her husband, from marrying another. By  Estha, the
n--for such is her name according to tradition--Matthan first, the descendant o
f Solomon, begets Jacob; and on Matthan's death, Melchi, who traces his descent
 back to Nathan, being of the same tribe but of another family, having married
her, as has been already said, had a son Hell. Thus, then, we shall find Jacob
and Hell uterine brothers, though of different families. And of these, the one
Jacob having taken the wife of his brother Heli, who died childless, begat by h
er the third, Joseph--his son by nature and by account.(6) Whence also it is wr
itten, "And Jacob begat Joseph." But according to law he was the son of Heli, f
or Jacob his brother raised up seed to him. Wherefore also the genealogy deduce
d through him will not be made void, which the Evangelist Matthew in his enumer
ation gives thus: "And Jacob begat Joseph." But Luke, on the other hand, says,
"Who was the son, as was supposed(7) (for this, too, he adds), of Joseph, the s
on of Heli, the son of Metchi." For it was not possible more distinctly to stat
e the generation according to law; and thus in this mode of generation he has e
ntirely omitted the word "begat" to the very end, carrying back the genealogy b
y way of conclusion to Adam and to God.(8)

IV.

    Nor indeed is this incapable of proof, neither is it a rash conjecture. For
 the kinsmen of the Saviour after the flesh, whether to magnify their own origi
n or simply to state the fact, but at all events speaking truth, have also hand
ed down the following account: Some Idumean robbers attacking Ascalon, a city o
f Palestine, besides other spoils which they took from a temple of Apollo, whic
h was built near the walls, carried off captive one Antipater, son of a certain
 Herod, a servant of the temple. And as the priest(9) was   not able to pay the
 ransom for his son, Antipater was brought up in the customs of the Idumeans,
and afterwards enjoyed the friendship of Hyrcanus, the high priest of Judea. An
d being sent on an embassy to Pompey on behalf of Hyrcanus. and having restored
 to him the kingdom which was being wasted by Aristobulus his brother, he was s
o fortunate as to obtain the title of pro-

127

curator of Palestine.(1) And when Antipater was   treacherously slain through e
nvy of his great good fortune, his son Herod succeeded him, who was afterwards
appointed king of Judea under Antony and Augustus by a decree of the senate. Hi
s sons were Herod and the other tetrarchs. These accounts are given also in the
 histories of the Greeks.(2)

V.

    But as up to that time the genealogies of the Hebrews had been registered i
n the public archives, and those, too, which were traced back to the proselytes
(3)--as, for example, to Achior the Ammanite, and Ruth the Moabitess, and those
 who left Egypt along with the Israelites, and intermarried with them--Herod, k
nowing that the lineage of the Israelites contributed nothing to him, and goade
d by the consciousness of his ignoble birth, burned the registers of their fami
lies. This he did, thinking that he would appear to be of noble birth, if no on
e else could trace back his descent by the public register to the patriarchs or
 proselytes, and to that mixed race called georoe.(4) A few, however, of the st
udious, having private records of their own, either by remembering the names or
 by getting at them in some other way from the archives, pride themselves in pr
eserving the memory of their noble descent; and among these happen to be those
already mentioned, called desposyni,(5) on account of their connection with the
 family of the Saviour. And these coming from Nazara and Cochaba, Judean villag
es, to other parts of the country, set forth the above-named genealogy(6) as ac
curately as possible from the Book of Days.(7)  Whether, then, the case stand t
hus or not, no   one could discover a more obvious explanation, according to my
 own opinion and that of any sound judge. And let this suffice us for the matte
r, although it is not supported by testimony, because we have nothing more sati
sfactory or true to allege upon it. The Gospel, however, in any case states the
 truth.

VI.

    Matthan, descended from Solomon, begat Jacob. Matthan dying, Melchi, descen
ded from Nathan, begat Hell by the same wife. Therefore Hell and Jacob are uter
ine brothers. Hell dying childless, Jacob raised up seed to him and begat Josep
h, his own son by nature, but the son of Hell by law. Thus Joseph was the son o
f both.(8)

II.--NARRATIVE OF EVENTS HAPPENING IN PERSIA ON THE BIRTH OF
CHRIST.(1)

    THE best introduction to this production will be the following preface, as
given in Migne:--Many men of learning thus far have been of opinion that the na
rrative by Africanus of events happening in Persia on Christ's birth,(2) is a f
ragment of that famous work which Sextus Julius Africanus, a Christian author o
f the third century after Christ, composed on the history of the world in the c
hronological order of events up to the reign of Macrinus, and presented in five
 books to Alexander, son of Mammaea, with the view of obtaining the restoration
 of his native town Emmaus. With the same expectation which I see incited Lambe
cius and his compendiator Nesselius, I, too, set myself with the greatest eager
ness to go over the codices of our Electoral Library .... But, as the common pr
overb goes, I found coals instead of treasure. This narrative, so far from its
being to be ascribed to a writer well reputed by the common voice of

128

antiquity, does not contain anything worthy of the genius of the chronographer
Africanus. Wherefore, since by the unanimous testimony of the ancients he was a
 man of consummate learning and sharpest judgment, while the author of the Cest
i, which also puts forward the name of Africanus, has been long marked by criti
cs with the character either of anile credulity, or of a marvellous propensity
to superstitious fancies, I can readily fall in with the opinion of those who t
hink that he is a different person from the chronographer, and would ascribe th
is wretched production also to him. But, dear reader, on perusing these pages,
if your indignation is not stirred against the man's rashness, you will at leas
t join with me in laughing at his prodigious follies, and will learn, at the sa
me time, that the testimonies of men most distinguished for learning are not to
 be rated so highly as to supersede personal examination when opportunity permi
ts.

EVENTS IN PERSIA:

ON THE INCARNATION OF OUR LORD AND GOD AND SAVIOUR JESUS CHRIST.

    Christ first of all became known from Persia. For nothing escapes the learn
ed jurists of that country, who investigate all things with the utmost care. Th
e facts,(1) therefore, which are inscribed upon the golden plates,(2) and laid
up in the royal temples, I shall record; for it is from the temples there, and
the priests connected with them, that the name of Christ has been heard of. Now
 there is a temple there to Juno, surpassing even the royal palace, which templ
e Cyrus, that prince instructed in all piety, built, and in which he dedicated
in honour of the gods golden and silver statues, and adorned them with precious
 stones,--that I may not waste words in a profuse description of that ornamenta
tion. Now about that time (as the records on the plates testify), the king havi
ng entered the temple, with the view of getting an interpretation of certain dr
eams, was addressed by the priest Prupupius thus: I congratulate thee, master:
Juno has conceived. And the king, smiling, said to him, Has she who is dead con
ceived? And he said, Yes, she who was dead has come to life again, and besets l
ife. And the king said, What is this? explain it to me. And he replied, In trut
h, master, the time for these things is at hand. For during the whole night the
 images, both of gods and goddesses, continued heating the-ground, saying to ea
ch other, Come, let us congratulate Juno. And they say to me, Prophet, come for
ward; congratulate Juno, for she has been embraced. And I said, How can she be
embraced who no longer exists? To which they reply, She has come to life again,
 and is no longer called Juno,(3) but Urania. For the mighty Sol has embraced h
er. Then the goddesses say to the gods, making the matter plainer, Pege(4) is s
he who is embraced; for did not Juno espouse an artificer? And the gods say, Th
at she is rightly called Pege, we admit. Her name, moreover, is Myria; for she
bears in her womb, as in the deep, a vessel of a myriad talents' burden. And as
 to this title Pege, let it be understood thus: This stream of water sends fort
h the perennial stream of spirit,--a stream containing but a single fish,(5) ta
ken with the hook of Divinity, and sustaining the whole world with its flesh as
 though it were in the sea. You have well said, She has an artificer [in espous
al]; but by that espousal she does not bear an artificer on an equality with he
rself. For this artificer who is born, the son of the chief artificer, framed b
y his excellent skill the roof of the third heavens, and established by his wor
d this lower world, with its threefold sphere(6) of habitation.
    Thus, then, the statues disputed with each other concerning Juno and Pege,
and [at length] with one voice they said: When the day is finished. we all, god
s and goddesses, shall know the matter clearly. Now, therefore, master, tarry f
or the rest of the day. For the matter shall certainly come to pass. For that w
hich emerges is no common affair.
    And when the king abode there and watched the statues, the harpers of their
 own accord began to strike their harps, and the misses to sing; and whatsoever
 creatures were within, whether quadruped or fowl, in silver and gold, uttered
their several voices. And as the king shuddered, and was filled with great fear
, he was about to retire. For he could not endure the spontaneous tumult. The p
riest therefore said to him,   Remain, O king, for the full revelation is at ha
nd which the God of gods has chosen to declare to us.
        And when these things were said, the roof was opened, and a bright star
 descended and

129

stood above the pillar of Pege, and a voice was heard to this effect: Sovereign
 Pege, the mighty Son has sent me to make the announcement to you, and at the s
ame time to do you service in parturition, designing blameless nuptials with yo
u, O mother of the chief of all ranks of being, bride of the triune Deity. And
the child begotten by extraordinary generation is called the Beginning and the
End,--the beginning of salvation, and the end of perdition.
    And when this word was spoken, all the statues fell upon their faces, that
of Pege alone standing, on which also a royal diadem was found placed, having o
n its upper side a star set in a carbuncle and an emerald. And on its lower sid
e the star rested.
    And the king forthwith gave orders to bring in all the interpreters of prod
igies, and the sages who were under his dominion. And when all the heralds sped
 with their proclamations, all these assembled in the temple. And when they saw
 the star above Pege, and the diadem with the star and the stone, and the statu
es lying on the floor, they said: O king, a root (offspring) divine and princel
y has risen, bearing the image of the King of heaven and earth. For Pege-Myria
is the daughter of the Bethlehemite Pege. And the diadem is the mark of a king,
 and the star is a celestial announcement of portents to fall on the earth. Out
 of Judah has arisen a kingdom which shall subvert all the memorials of the Jew
s. And the prostration of the gods upon the floor prefigured the end of their h
onour. For he who comes, being of more ancient dignity, shall displace all the
recent. Now therefore, O king, send to Jerusalem. For you will find the Christ
of the Omnipotent God borne in bodily form in the bodily arms of a woman. And t
he star remained above the statue of Pege, called the Celestial, until the wise
 men came forth, and then it went with them.
    And then, in the depth of evening, Dionysus appeared in the temple, unaccom
panied by the Satyrs, and said to the images: Pege is not one of us, but stands
 far above us, in that she gives birth to a man whose conception is in divine f
ashion.(1) O priest Prupupius! what dost thou tarrying here? An action, indicat
ed in writings of old,(2) has come upon us, and we shall be convicted as false
by a person of power and energy.(3) Wherein we have been deceivers, we have bee
n deceivers; and wherein we have ruled, we have ruled. No longer give we oracul
ar responses. Gone from us is our honour. Without glory and reward are we becom
e. There is One, and One only, who receives again at the hands of all His prope
r honour. For the rest, be not disturbed.(4) No longer shall the Persians exact
 tribute of earth and sky. For He who established these things is at hand, to b
ring practical tribute(5) to Him who sent Him, to renew the ancient image, and
to put image with image, and bring the dissimilar to similarity. Heaven rejoice
s with earth, and earth itself exults at receiving matter of exultation from he
aven. Things which have not happened above, have happened on earth beneath. He
whom the order of the blessed has not seen, is seen by the order of the  misera
ble. Flame threatens those; dew attends  these. To Myria is given the blessed l
ot of bearing Pege in Bethlehem, and of conceiving grace of grace. Judaea has s
een its bloom, and this country is fading. To Gentiles and aliens, salvation is
 come; to the wretched, relief is ministered abundantly. With right do women da
nce, and say, Lady Pege, Spring-bearer, thou mother of the heavenly constellati
on. Thou cloud that bringest us dew after heat, remember thy de pendants, O mis
tress.
    The king then, without delay, sent some of the Magi under his dominion with
 gifts, the star showing them the way. And when they returned, they narrated to
 the men of that time those same things which were also written on the plates o
f gold, and which were to the following effect: --
    When we came to Jerusalem, the sign, together with our arrival, roused all
the people. How is this, say they, that wise men of the Persians are here, and
that along with them there is this strange stellar phenomenon? And the chief of
 the Jews interrogated us in this way: What is this that attends you,(6) and wi
th what purpose are you here? And we said: He whom ye call Messias is born. And
 they were confounded, and dared not withstand us. But they said to us, By the
justice of Heaven, tell us what ye know of this matter. And we made answer to t
hem: Ye labour under unbelief; and neither without an oath nor with an oath do
ye believe us, but ye follow your own heedless counsel. For the Christ, the Son
 of the Most High, is born, and He is the subverter of your law and synagogues.
 And therefore is it that, struck with this most excellent response as with a d
art,(7) ye hear in bitterness this name which has come upon you suddenly.And th
ey then, taking counsel together, urged us to accept their gifts, and tell to n
one that such an event had taken place in that land of theirs, lest, as they sa
y, a revolt rise against us. But we replied: We have brought gifts in His honou
r, with the view of proclaiming those mighty things which we know to have happe
ned in our country on occasion of His birth; and do ye bid us take your bribes,
 and conceal

130

the things which have been communicated to us by the Divinity who is above the
heavens, and neglect the commandments of our proper King? And after urging many
 considerations on us, they gave the matter up. And when the king of Judaea sen
t for us and had some converse with us, and put to us certain questions as to t
he statements we made to him, we acted in the same manner, until he was thoroug
hly enraged at our replies. We left him accordingly, without giving any greater
 heed to him than to any common person.
    And we came to that place then to which we were sent, and saw the mother an
d the child, the star indicating to us the royal babe. And we said to the mothe
r: What art thou named, O renowned mother? And she says: Mary, masters. And we
said to her: Whence art thou sprung?(1) And she replies: From this district of
the Bethlehemites.(2) Then said we: Hast thou not had a husband? And she answer
s: I was only betrothed with a view to the marriage covenant, my thoughts being
 far removed from this. For I had no mind to come to this. And while I was givi
ng very little concern to it, when a certain Sabbath dawned, and straightway at
 the rising of the sun, an angel appeared to me bringing me suddenly the glad t
idings of a son. And in trouble I cried out, Be it not so to me, Lord, for I ha
ve not a husband. And he persuaded me to believe, that by the will of God I sho
uld have this son.
    Then said we to her: Mother, mother, all the gods of the Persians have call
ed thee blessed. Thy glory is great; for thou art exalted above all women of re
nown, and thou art shown to be more queenly than all queens.
    The child, moreover, was seated on the ground, being, as she said, in His s
econd year, and having in part the likeness of His mother. And she had long han
ds,(3) and a body somewhat delicate; and her colour was like that of ripe wheat
;(4) and she was of a round face, and had her hair bound up. And as we had alon
g with us a servant skilled in painting from the life, we brought with us to ou
r country a likeness of them both; and it was placed by our hand in the sacred(
5) temple, with this inscription on it: To Jove the Sun, the mighty God, the Ki
ng of Jesus, the power of Persia dedicated this.
    And taking the child up, each of us in turn, and bearing Him in our arms, w
e saluted Him and worshipped Him, and presented to Him gold, and myrrh, and fra
nkincense, addressing Him thus: We gift Thee with Thine own, O Jesus, Ruler of
heaven. Ill would things unordered be ordered, weft Thou not at hand. In no oth
er way could things heavenly be brought into conjunction with things earthly, b
ut by Thy descent. Such service cannot be discharged, if only the servant is se
nt us, as when the Master Himself is present; neither can so much be achieved w
hen the king sends only his satraps to war, as when the king is there himself.
It became the wisdom of Thy system, that Thou shouldst deal in this manner with
 men.(6)
    And the child leaped and laughed at our caresses and words. And when we had
 bidden the mother farewell,(7) and when she had shown us honour, and we had te
stified to her the reverence which became us, we came again to the place in whi
ch we lodged. And at eventide there appeared to us one of a terrible and fearfu
l countenance, saying: Get ye out quickly, lest ye be taken in a snare. And we
in terror said: And who is he, O divine leader, that plotteth against so august
 an embassage? And he replied: Herod; but get you up straightway and depart in
safety and peace.
    And we made speed to depart thence in all earnestness; and we reported in J
erusalem all that we had seen. Behold, then, the great things that we have told
 you regarding Christ; and we saw Christ our Saviour, who was made known as bot
h God and man. To Him be the glory and the power unto the ages of the ages. Ame
n.

III.--THE EXTANT FRAGMENTS OF THE FIVE BOOKS OF THE CHRONOG-
RAPHY OF JULIUS AFRICANUS.

I.(1)

On the Mythical Chronology of the Egyptians and Chaldeans.

    The Egyptians, indeed, with their boastful notions of their own antiquity,
have put forth a sort of account of it by the hand of their astrologers in cycl
es and myriads of years; which some of those who have had the repute of studyin
g such subjects profoundly have in a summary way called lunar years; and inclin
ing no less than others to the mythical, they think they fall in with the eight
 or nine thousands of years which the Egyptian priests in Plato falsely reckon
up to Solon.(2)

131

(And after some other matter:)

    For why should I speak of the three myriad years of the Phoenicians, or of
the follies of the Chaldeans, their forty-eight myriads? For the Jews, deriving
 their origin from them as descendants of Abraham, having been taught a modest
mind, and one such as becomes men, together with the truth by the spirit of Mos
es, have handed down to us, by their extant Hebrew histories, the number of 550
0 years as the period up to the advent of the Word of salvation, that was annou
nced to the world in the time of the sway of the Caesars.

II.(1)

    When men multiplied on the earth, the angels of heaven came together with t
he daughters of men. In some copies I found "the sons of God." What is meant by
 the Spirit, in my opinion, is that the descendants of Seth are called the sons
 of God on account of the righteous men and patriarchs who have sprung from him
, even down to the Saviour Himself; but that the descendants of Cain are named
the seed of men  as having nothing divine in them, on account of the wickedness
 of their race and the inequality of their nature, being a mixed people, and ha
ving stirred the indignation of God.(2) But if it is thought that these refer t
o angels, we must take them to be those who deal with magic and jugglery, who t
aught the women the motions of the stars and the knowledge of things celestial,
 by whose power they conceived the giants as their children, by whom wickedness
 came to its height on the earth, until God decreed that the whole race of the
living should perish in their impiety by the deluge.

III.(3)

    Adam, when 530 years old, begets Seth; and after living other 700 years he
died, that is, a second death.
    Seth, when 505 years old, begot Enos; from Adam therefore to the birth of E
nos there are 435 years in all.
    Enos, when 190 years old, begets Cainan.
    Cainan again, when 170 years old, begets Malaleel;
    And Malaleel, when 165 years old; begets, Jared;
    And Jared, when 162 years old, begets Enoch; And Enoch, when 165 years old,
 begets Mathusala; and having pleased God, after a life of other 200 years, he
was not found.
    Mathusala, when 187 years old, begot Lamech.
    Lamech, when 188 years old, begets Noe.

IV.(4)

On the Deluge.

    God decreed to destroy the whole race of the living by a flood, having thre
atened that men should not survive beyond 120 years. Nor let it be deemed a mat
ter of difficulty, because some lived afterwards a longer period than that. For
 the space of time meant was 100 years up to the flood in the case of the sinne
rs of that time; for they were 20 years old. God instructed Noe, who pleased hi
m on account of his righteousness, to prepare an ark; and when it was finished,
 there entered it Noe himself and his sons, his wife and his daughters-in-law,
and firstlings of every living creature, with a view to the duration of the rac
e. And Noe was 600 years old when the flood came on. And when the water abated,
 the ark settled on the mountains of Ararat, which we know to be in Parthia;(5)
 but some say that they are at Celaenae(6) of Phrygia, and I have seen both pla
ces. And the flood prevailed for a year, and then the earth became dry. And the
y came out of the ark in pairs, as may be found, and  not in the manner in whic
h they had entered,  viz., distinguished according to their species, and were b
lessed by God. And each of these things indicates something useful to us.

V.(7)

    Noe was 600 years old when the flood came on. From Adam, therefore, to Noe
and the flood, are 2262 years.

VI.(8)

    And after the flood, Sem begot Arphaxad.
    Arphaxad, when 135 years old, begets Sala in the year 2397.
    Sala, when 130 years old, begets Heber in the year 2527.
    Heber, when 134 years old, begets Phalec in the year 2661, so called becaus
e the earth was divided in his days.
    Phalec, when 130 years old, begot Ragan, and after living other 209 years d
ied.

VIII.(9)

    In the year of the world 3277, Abraham entered the promised land of Canaan.

VIII.(10)

Of Abraham.

From this rises the appellation of the Hebrews.
For the word Hebrews is interpreted to mean

132

those who migrate across, viz., who crossed the Euphrates with Abraham; and it
is not derived, as some think, from the fore-mentioned Heber. From the flood an
d Noe, therefore, to Abraham's entrance into the promised land, there are in al
l 1015 years; and from Adam, in 20 generations
3277 years.
                                  IX.(1)

Of Abraham and Lot.

    When a famine pressed the land of Canaan Abraham came down to Egypt; and fe
aring lest he should be put out of the way on account of the beauty of his wife
, he pretended that he was her brother. But Pharaoh took her to himself when sh
e was commended to him; for this is the name the Egyptians give their kings. An
d he was punished by God; and Abraham, along with all pertaining to him, was di
smissed enriched. In Canaan, Abraham's shepherds and Lot's contended with each
other; and with mutual consent they separated, Lot choosing to dwell in Sodom o
n account of the fertility and beauty of the land, which had five cities, Sodom
, Gomorrah, Adama, Seboim, Segor, and as many kings. On these their neighbours
the four Syrian kings made war, whose leader was Chodollogomo king of AElam. An
d they met by the Salt Sea, which is now called the Dead Sea. In it I have seen
 very many wonderful things. For that water sustains no living thing, and dead
bodies are carried beneath its depths, while the living do not readily even dip
 under it. Lighted torches are borne upon it, but when extinguished they sink.
And there are the springs of bitumen; and it yields alum and salt a little diff
erent from the common kinds, for they are pungent and transparent. And wherever
 fruit is found about it, it is found full of a thick, foul smoke. And the wate
r acts as a cure to those who use it, and it is drained in a manner contrary to
 any other water.(2) And if it had not the river Jordan feeding it like a shell
,(3) and to a great extent withstanding its tendency, it would have failed more
 rapidly than appears. There is also by it a great quantity of the balsam plant
; but it is supposed to have been destroyed by God on account of the impiety of
 the neighbouring people.

X.(4)

Of the Patriarch Jacob.

    1. The shepherd's tent belonging to Jacob, which was preserved at Edessa to
 the time of Antonine Emperor of the Romans, was destroyed by a thunderbolt.(5)

    2. Jacob, being displeased at what had been done by Symeon and Levi at Shec
em against the people of the country, on account of the violation of their sist
er, buried at Shecem the gods which he had with him near a rock under the wonde
rful terebinth,(6) which up to this day is reverenced by the neighbouring peopl
e in honour of the patriarchs, and removed thence to Bethel. By the trunk of th
is terebinth there was an altar on which the inhabitants of the country offered
 ectenoe(7)  in their general assemblies; and though it seemed to be burned, it
 was not consumed. Near it is the tomb of Abraham and Isaac. And some say that
the staff of one of the angels who were entertained by Abraham was planted ther
e.

XI.(8)

    From Adam, therefore, to the death of Joseph, according to this book, are 2
3 generations, and 3563 years.

XII.(9)

    From this record,(10) therefore, we affirm that Ogygus,(11) from whom the f
irst flood (in Attica) derived its name,(12) and who was saved when many perish
ed, lived at the time of the exodus of the people from Egypt along with Moses.(
13) (After a break): And after Ogygus, on account of the vast destruction cause
d by the flood, the present land of Attica remained without a king tilt the tim
e of Cecrops, 189 years.(14) Philochorus, however, affirms that Ogygus, Actaeus
, or whatever other fictitious name is adduced, never existed. (After another b
reak): From Ogygus to Cyrus, as from Moses to his time, are 1235 years.

XIII.(15)

    1. Up to the time of the Olympiads there is no certain history among the Gr
eeks, all things before that date being confused, and in no way consistent with
 each other. But these Olympiads

133

were thoroughly investigated(1) by many, as the Greeks made up the records of t
heir history not according to long spaces, but in periods of four years. For wh
ich reason I shall select the most remarkable of the mythical narratives before
 the time of the first Olympiad, and rapidly run over them. But those after tha
t period, at least those that are notable, I shall take together, Hebrew  event
s in connection with Greek, according to their dates, examining carefully the a
ffairs of the Hebrews, and touching more cursorily on those of the Greeks; and
my plan will be as follows: Taking up some single event in Hebrew history synch
ronous with another in Greek history, and keeping by it as the main subject, su
btracting or adding as may seem needful in the narrative, I shall note what Gre
ek or Persian of note, or remarkable personage of any other nationality, flouri
shed at the date of that event in Hebrew history; and thus I may perhaps attain
 the object which I propose to myself.
    2. The most famous exile that befell the Hebrews, then--to wit, when they w
ere led captive by Nabuchodonosor king of Babylon--lasted 70 years, as Jeremias
 had prophesied. Berosus the Babylonian, moreover, makes mention of Nabuchodono
sor. And after the 70 years of captivity, Cyrus became king of the Persians at
the time of the 55th Olympiad, as may be ascertained from the Bibliothecoe of D
iodorus and the histories of Thallus and Castor, and also from Polybius and Phl
egon, and others besides these, who have made the Olympiads a subject of study.
 For the date is a matter of agreement among them all. And Cyrus then, in the f
irst year of his reign, which was the first year of the 55th Olympiad, effected
 the first partial restoration of the people by the hand of Zorobabel, with who
m also was Jesus the son of Josedec, since the period of 70 years was now fulfi
lled, as is narrated in Esdra the Hebrew historian. The narratives of the begin
ning of the sovereignty of Cyrus and the end of the captivity accordingly coinc
ide. And thus, according to the reckoning of the Olympiads, there will be found
 a like harmony of events even to our time. And by following this, we shall als
o make the other narratives fit in with each other in the same manner.
    3. But if the Attic time-reckoning is taken as the standard for affairs pri
or to these, then from  Ogygus, who was believed by them to be an autochthon, i
n whose time also the first great flood took place in Attica, while Phoroneus r
eigned over the Argives, as Acusilaus relates, tip to the date of the first Oly
mpiad, from which period the Greeks thought they could fix dates accurately,  t
here are altogether 1020 years; which number

both coincides with the above-mentioned, and will be established by what follow
s. For these things are also recorded by the Athenian(2) historians Hellanicus
and Phitochorus, who record Attic affairs; and by Castor and Thallus, who recor
d Syrian affairs; and by Diodorus, who writes a universal history in his Biblio
thecoe; and by Alexander Polyhistor, and by some of  our own time, yet more car
efully, and(3) by all the Attic writers. Whatever narrative of note, therefore,
 meets us in these 1020 years, shall be given in its proper place.
    4. In accordance with this writing, therefore, we affirm that Ogygus, who g
ave his name to the first flood, and was saved when many perished, lived at the
 time of the exodus of the people from Egypt along with Moses.(4) And this we m
ake out in the following manner. From Ogygus up to the first Olympiad already m
entioned, it will be shown that there are 1020 years; and from the first Olympi
ad to the first year of the 55th, that is the first year of King Cyrus, which w
as also the end of the captivity, are 217 years. From Ogygus, therefore, to Cyr
us are 1237. And if one carries the calculation backwards from the end of the c
aptivity, there are 1237 years. Thus, by analysis, the same period is found to
the first year of the exodus of Israel under Moses from Egypt, as from the 55th
 Olympiad to Ogygus, who founded Eleusis. And from this point we get a more not
able beginning for Attic chronography.
    5. So much, then, for the period prior to Ogygus. And at his time Moses lef
t Egypt. And we demonstrate in the following manner how reliable is the stateme
nt that this happened at that date. From the exodus of Moses up to Cyrus, who r
eigned after the captivity, are 1237 years. For the remaining years of Moses ar
e 40. The years of Jesus, who led the people after him, are 25; those of the el
ders, who were judges after Jesus, are 30; those of the judges, whose history i
s given in the book of Judges, are 490; those of the priests Eli and Samuel are
 90; those of the successive kings of the Hebrews are 490. Then come the 70 yea
rs of the captivity,(5) the last year of which was the first year of the reign
of Cyrus, as we have already said.
    6. And from Moses, then, to the first Olympiad there are 1020 years, as to
the first year of the 55th Olympiad from the same are 1237, in which enumeratio
n the reckoning of the Greeks coincides with us. And after Ogygus, by reason

134

of the vast destruction caused by the flood, the present land of Attica remaine
d without a king up to Cecrops, a period of 189 years. For Philochorus asserts
that the Actaeus who is said to have succeeded Ogygus, or whatever other fictit
ious names are adduced, never existed. And again: From Ogygus, therefore, to Cy
rus, says he, the same period is reckoned as from Moses to the same date, viz.
1237 years; and some of the Greeks also record that Moses lived at that same ti
me. Polemo, for instance, in the first book of his Greek History, says: In the
time of Apis, son of Phoroneus, a division of the army of the Egyptians left Eg
ypt, and settled in the Palestine called Syrian, not far from Arabia: these are
 evidently those who were with Moses. And Apion the son of Poseidonius, the mos
t laborious of grammarians, in his book Against the Jews, and in the fourth boo
k of his History, says that in the time of Inachus king of Argos, when Amosis r
eigned over Egypt, the Jews revolted under the leadership of Moses. And Herodot
us also makes mention of this revolt, and of Amosis, in his second book, and in
 a certain way also of the Jews themselves, reckoning them among the circumcise
d, and calling them the Assyrians of Palestine, perhaps through Abraham. And Pt
olemy the Mendesian, who narrates the history of the Egyptians from the earlies
t times, gives the same account of all these things; so that among them in gene
ral there is no difference worth notice in the chronology.
    7. It should be observed, further, that all the legendary accounts which ar
e deemed specially remarkable by the Greeks by reason of their antiquity, are f
ound to belong to a period posterior to Moses; such as their floods and conflag
rations, Prometheus, Io, Europa, the Sparti, the abduction of Proserpine, their
 mysteries, their legislations, the deeds of Dionysus, Perseus, the Argonauts,
the Centaurs, the Minotaur, the affairs of Troy, the labours of Hercules, the r
eturn of the Heraclidae, the Ionian migration and the Olympiads. And it seemed
good to me to give an account especially of the before-noted period of the Atti
c sovereignty, as I intend to narrate the history of the Greeks side by side wi
th that of the Hebrews. For any one will be able, if he only start from my posi
tion, to make out the reckoning equally well with me. Now, in the first year of
 that period of 1020 years, stretching from Moses and Ogygus to the first Olymp
iad, the passover and the exodus of the Hebrews from Egypt took place, and also
 in Attica the flood of Ogygus. And that is according to reason. For  when the
Egyptians were being smitten in the anger of God with hail and storms, it was o
nly  to be expected that certain parts of the earth  should suffer with them; a
nd, in especial, it was  but to be expected that the Athenians should i

participate in such calamity with the Egyptians, since they were supposed to be
 a colony from them, as Theopompus alleges in his Tricarenus, and others beside
s him. The intervening period  has been passed by, as no remarkable event is re
corded during it among the Greeks. But after
94 years Prometheus arose, according to some, who was fabulously reported to ha
ve formed men; for being a wise man, he transformed them from the state of extr
eme rudeness to culture.

XIV.(1)

    AEschylus, the son of Agamestor, ruled the Ath