Letter 51

51. To Bosporius, bishop.

How deeply, do you suppose, my soul was pained when I heard of that slander which certain men poured out against me — men who do not fear the Judge who will destroy all that speak falsehood — so that for nearly the whole night, brooding over the words of your charity, I lay sleepless; with such force did grief lay hold of the very middle of my heart. For truly, as Solomon says, slander brings a man low; and no one is so insensible as not to suffer in soul and be bowed to the ground when he falls in the way of mouths ready for falsehood. Yet we must bear all things, endure all things, committing the vindication of ourselves to the Lord, who will not overlook us; for he that slanders the poor provokes his Maker. Those, however, who have composed this strange drama of blasphemy against us seem to disbelieve the Lord altogether, who has declared that we shall give account even for an idle word in the day of judgment.

But tell me, did I pronounce anathema against the most blessed Dianius? For this is what they have proclaimed against me. Where, or when? In whose presence? On what pretext? In bare words or in writing? Following others, or myself taking the lead and being the author of the deed? Oh, the shamelessness of those who utter anything so lightly! Oh, the contempt for the judgments of God! Unless indeed they will add to their fiction this further piece of stage-drama as well: that I had at some time gone out of my mind, so as to be ignorant myself of my own words. For while I was in my own right reason, I am conscious of having done no such thing, nor of having taken the initiative for it. Rather I am conscious of this: that from my earliest years I was reared in affection for him, and looked up to the man — venerable to behold, magnificent, and with all the dignity of a priest in his very appearance. And when in time I came also to the use of reason, then I came to know him also by the good qualities of his soul, and rejoiced in his company, learning the simplicity, nobility, and generosity of his ways, and all else that was characteristic of the man: the gentleness of his soul, that combination of greatness and mildness, his graciousness, his freedom from anger, his cheerfulness and accessibility tempered with dignity. So that I counted him among the most distinguished men in virtue.

Yet toward the end of his life — for I will not hide the truth — I grieved over him with a grief beyond bearing, together with many in our country who fear the Lord, on account of his signing the creed brought from Constantinople by the party of George. Then, such was that man in mildness of disposition and forbearance — bearing with all in fatherly tenderness so as to satisfy them — that, having already fallen into the sickness from which he departed this life, he summoned me and said: with the Lord as his witness, that he had set his hand to the document from Constantinople in simplicity of heart, but had in no way chosen to set aside the faith put forth at Nicaea by the holy fathers, nor did he hold otherwise in his heart than as he had received it from the beginning; nay, he prayed that he might not be separated from the portion of those blessed three hundred and eighteen bishops who proclaimed the doctrine of true religion to the world. So that I, on receiving this assurance, dissolving every doubt of my heart — as you yourself know — came forward to communion with him, and ceased from my grief.

Such, then, was our relation to the man. But if anyone says that he knows me to have uttered some unlawful blasphemy against him, let him not whisper it in a corner in slavish fashion, but let him stand forth into the open and refute me with frankness.