Letter 4: What do you mean, my dear Sir, by evicting from our retreat my dear friend and nurse of philosophy, Poverty? Were she but gifted with speech, I take it you would have to appear as defendant in an action for unlawful ejectment. She might plead I chose to live with this man Basil, an admirer of Zeno, who, when he had lost everything in a shipwrec...

To Olympius What are you doing, my dear friend, by evicting from my retreat my beloved companion and nurse of philosophy — Poverty? If she could speak, I think you would have to answer for unlawful eviction. She might argue: "I chose to live with this man Basil — an admirer of Zeno, who lost everything in a shipwreck and declared with perfect composure, 'Well played, Fortune! You are reducing me to just my cloak'; a great admirer of Cleanthes, who drew water from wells to earn enough for both his living and his tutor's fees; an enormous admirer of Diogenes, who prided himself on needing nothing beyond the bare necessities and threw away his drinking bowl after watching a boy stoop to drink from cupped hands." In words like these, my dear companion Poverty might scold you — the one whose gifts have driven her from house and home. She might even add a threat: "If I catch you here again, I will show you that what came before was Sicilian or Italian luxury. I will pay you back in full from my own resources." But enough of this. I am very glad you have begun your course of treatment, and I pray it does you good. A body fit for pain-free activity would be a worthy match for so devout a soul.

ST. BASIL OF CAESAREA To Olympius. What do you mean, my dear Sir, by evicting from our retreat my dear friend and nurse of philosophy, Poverty? Were she but gifted with speech, I take it you would have to appear as defendant in an action for unlawful ejectment. She might plead I chose to live with this man Basil, an admirer of Zeno, who, when he had lost everything in a shipwreck, cried, with great fortitude, 'well done, Fortune! You are reducing me to the old cloak;' a great admirer of Cleanthes, who by drawing water from the well got enough to live on and pay his tutors' fees as well; an immense admirer of Diogenes, who prided himself on requiring no more than was absolutely necessary, and flung away his bowl after he had learned from some lad to stoop down and drink from the hollow of his hand. In some such terms as these you might be chidden by my dear mate Poverty, whom your presents have driven from house and home. She might too add a threat; if I catch you here again, I shall show that what went before was Sicilian or Italian luxury: so I shall exactly requite you out of my own store. But enough of this. I am very glad that you have already begun a course of medicine, and pray that you may be benefited by it. A condition of body fit for painless activity would well become so pious a soul. About this page Source. Translated by Blomfield Jackson. From Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, Second Series, Vol. 8. Edited by Philip Schaff and Henry Wace. (Buffalo, NY: Christian Literature Publishing Co., 1895.) Revised and edited for New Advent by Kevin Knight. <https://www.newadvent.org/fathers/3202004.htm>. Contact information. The editor of New Advent is Kevin Knight. My email address is feedback732 at newadvent.org. (To help fight spam, this address might change occasionally.) Regrettably, I can't reply to every letter, but I greatly appreciate your feedback — especially notifications about typographical errors and inappropriate ads.