Letter 73: 1. When I had read your letter I thanked God; first, that I been greeted by a man desirous of doing me honour, for truly I highly estimate any intercourse with persons of high merit; secondly, with pleasure at the thought of being remembered. For a letter is a sign of remembrance; and when I had received yours and learned its contents I was asto...
Basil of Caesarea→Callisthenes|c. 361 AD|basil caesarea
slavery captivity
Slavery or captivity; Military conflict; Economic matters
To Callisthenes,
Thank you for your letter. I was grateful for two things: first, the chance to connect with someone I genuinely respect, and second, the simple fact that you thought of me. A letter is proof that someone remembers you, and yours treated me with the kind of honor a son shows a father — which moved me deeply.
Here's what impressed me most: you were furious, ready to punish the people who wronged you, and yet you set aside more than half that anger and gave me the authority to settle the matter. That restraint brought me real joy. All I can do in return is pray that good things come your way — that your friends take pride in you, your enemies fear you, and anyone who's wronged you realizes, when they see your character, that the fault was entirely theirs.
Now, about your plan to have the servants brought to the place where they caused trouble — I need to understand what you're after. If you're coming in person to deal out punishment, the slaves will be there. But if business keeps you away, who will receive them? Who will act in your place?
If you are set on going yourself, have them stop at Sasima [a small town in Cappadocia, in modern central Turkey]. Show them you have the power to punish — and then let them go free, as I urged in my last letter. You'll be doing me a favor, and God will repay the kindness.
I'm saying this not because I think this is how justice demands it end, but because I can see your anger is still fresh. When someone's eyes are inflamed, even the gentlest touch stings — and I worry my words might irritate rather than calm you.
What would truly bring you the most credit, and no small honor to me among my peers, is this: leave the punishment to me. I know you've sworn to hand them over for execution under civil law. But a rebuke under the Church's authority carries real weight too — and God's law is no less binding than the empire's. If they're punished here under our laws — the same laws in which your own hope of salvation rests — you'll be released from your oath, and they'll still receive a penalty that fits what they did.
I know this letter has gone on too long. I'm so eager to persuade you that I can't stop myself from pressing every argument I can think of, and I'm terrified that if I leave something unsaid, I'll fail to convince you.
So — true and honored son of the Church — prove the hopes I have in you. Live up to the reputation everyone gives you for mercy and gentleness. And please, send the soldier on his way without delay. He's become thoroughly tiresome and rude — clearly more concerned with not annoying you than with being on good terms with any of us here.
ST. BASIL OF CAESAREA
To Callisthenes.
1. When I had read your letter I thanked God; first, that I been greeted by a man desirous of doing me honour, for truly I highly estimate any intercourse with persons of high merit; secondly, with pleasure at the thought of being remembered. For a letter is a sign of remembrance; and when I had received yours and learned its contents I was astonished to find how, as all were agreed, it paid me the respect due to a father from a son. That a man in the heat of anger and indignation, eager to punish those who had annoyed him, should drop more than half his vehemence and give me authority to decide the matter, caused me to feel such joy as I might over a son in the spirit. In return, what remains for me but to pray for all blessings for you? May you be a delight to your friends, a terror to your foes, an object of respect to all, to the end that any who fall short in their duty to you may, when they learn how gentle you are, only blame themselves for having wronged one of such a character as yourself!
2. I should be very glad to know the object which your goodness has in view, in ordering the servants to be conveyed to the spot where they were guilty of their disorderly conduct. If you come yourself, and exact in person the punishment due for the offense, the slaves shall be there. What other course is possible if you have made up your mind? Only that I do not know what further favour I shall have received, if I shall have failed to get the boys off their punishment. But if business detain you on the way, who is to receive the fellows there? Who is to punish them in your stead? But if you have made up your mind to meet them yourself, and this is quite determined on, tell them to halt at Sasima, and there show the extent of your gentleness and magnanimity. After having your assailants in your own power, and so showing them that your dignity is not to be lightly esteemed, let them go scot free, as I urged you in my former letter. So you will confer a favour on me, and will receive the requital of your good deed from God.
3. I speak in this way, not because the business ought so to be ended, but as a concession to your agitated feelings, and in fear lest somewhat of your wrath may remain still raw. When a man's eyes are inflamed the softest application seems painful, and I am afraid lest what I say may rather irritate than calm you. What would really be most becoming, bringing great credit to you, and no little cause of honour to me with my friends and contemporaries, would be for you to leave the punishment to me. And although you have sworn to deliver them to execution as the law enjoins, my rebuke is still of no less value as a punishment, nor is the divine law of less account than the laws current in the world. But it will be possible for them, by being punished here by our laws, wherein too lies your own hope of salvation, both to release you from your oath and to undergo a penalty commensurate with their faults.
But once more I am making my letter too long. In the very earnest desire to persuade you I cannot bear to leave unsaid any of the pleas which occur to me, and I am much afraid lest my entreaty should prove ineffectual from my failing to say all that may convey my meaning. Now, true and honoured son of the Church, confirm the hopes which I have of you; prove true all the testimony unanimously given to your placability and gentleness. Give orders to the soldier to leave me without delay; he is now as tiresome and rude as he can well be; he evidently prefers giving no cause of annoyance to you to making all of us here his close friends.
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/3202073.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.
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To Callisthenes,
Thank you for your letter. I was grateful for two things: first, the chance to connect with someone I genuinely respect, and second, the simple fact that you thought of me. A letter is proof that someone remembers you, and yours treated me with the kind of honor a son shows a father — which moved me deeply.
Here's what impressed me most: you were furious, ready to punish the people who wronged you, and yet you set aside more than half that anger and gave me the authority to settle the matter. That restraint brought me real joy. All I can do in return is pray that good things come your way — that your friends take pride in you, your enemies fear you, and anyone who's wronged you realizes, when they see your character, that the fault was entirely theirs.
Now, about your plan to have the servants brought to the place where they caused trouble — I need to understand what you're after. If you're coming in person to deal out punishment, the slaves will be there. But if business keeps you away, who will receive them? Who will act in your place?
If you are set on going yourself, have them stop at Sasima [a small town in Cappadocia, in modern central Turkey]. Show them you have the power to punish — and then let them go free, as I urged in my last letter. You'll be doing me a favor, and God will repay the kindness.
I'm saying this not because I think this is how justice demands it end, but because I can see your anger is still fresh. When someone's eyes are inflamed, even the gentlest touch stings — and I worry my words might irritate rather than calm you.
What would truly bring you the most credit, and no small honor to me among my peers, is this: leave the punishment to me. I know you've sworn to hand them over for execution under civil law. But a rebuke under the Church's authority carries real weight too — and God's law is no less binding than the empire's. If they're punished here under our laws — the same laws in which your own hope of salvation rests — you'll be released from your oath, and they'll still receive a penalty that fits what they did.
I know this letter has gone on too long. I'm so eager to persuade you that I can't stop myself from pressing every argument I can think of, and I'm terrified that if I leave something unsaid, I'll fail to convince you.
So — true and honored son of the Church — prove the hopes I have in you. Live up to the reputation everyone gives you for mercy and gentleness. And please, send the soldier on his way without delay. He's become thoroughly tiresome and rude — clearly more concerned with not annoying you than with being on good terms with any of us here.
Modern English rendering for readability. See the 19th-century translation or original Latin/Greek for scholarly use.