Letter 212

212. To Hilarius.

What do you think I felt, or what was my state of mind, when I came to Dazimon and learned a few days after our arrival that your Eloquence had departed? For not only because of the admiration I have had for you from childhood — having always, from our studies together, set a high value on your conversation — but also because nothing is now so precious as a truth-loving soul that possesses a sound judgment of affairs; which we believe is preserved in you. For of the rest we see the greater part, as at the horse-races, divided, some for these, some for those, and joining in the shout with the factions. But you, being higher than fear and flattery and every ignoble passion, are likely with a healthy eye to behold the truth. Indeed, I perceive that you do not take a careless view of the affairs of the churches, since you even sent us a letter about these matters, as you showed in your recent letter; and who it was that received it to convey it, I would gladly learn, so as to know the one who wronged me. For I have not yet met with any letters of yours to us about these things.

For how much, do you think, would I purchase your conversation, that I might make known to you the things that grieve me — for it brings, as you know, a certain relief to those in pain even to speak out — and that I might receive your answer about the matters in question; not entrusting it to lifeless letters, but myself in person plainly telling each thing and going through it. For living words have a more effective persuasion; and as to being easily attacked and easily caught by slander, they are no longer like the written ones. For nothing now is beyond anyone's daring, since even those to whom we entrusted the greatest things — whom we perceived, when we saw them among men, to be something more than human — these consented to pass off as ours some writings of one person or another, whatever they happened to be, and to slander us on the strength of them to the brotherhoods, so that nothing henceforth is more to be shunned by the devout than our name. For having from the beginning made it my study to be unknown — as I know not who else of those who have observed human weakness has done — now, as though I had chosen the opposite, to make myself known to all men, I am thus everywhere on earth (and I will add, on sea as well) bruited about. For both those who practice the utmost limit of impiety, and bring the godless doctrine of the Unlikeness upon the churches, wage war against me; and those who drive the middle course, as they suppose, and who set out from those same first principles, but, because of what is offensive to the ears of the many, do not allow themselves to follow the consequence of their reasonings, are vexed at us and wash us in their abuse, so far as they are able, and abstain from no plot, even though the Lord has made their undertakings come to nothing. How are these things not grievous? How do they not make my life a thing of pain? I who set down as the one consolation of my evils the weakness of the flesh, by which I am persuaded that I shall not remain long in this wretched life. And of these things let so much suffice.

But you, amid the sufferings of the body, I exhort to be disposed nobly and worthily of the God who has called us; who, if He sees us receiving the present circumstances with thanksgiving, will either remit the things that grieve us, as in the case of Job, or will reward us with the great crowns of endurance in the condition that follows after this our life.