Chapter 2 No.2

Basil and Gregory were both natives of

Cappadocia, but here, again, under different{5}

circumstances; Basil was born of a good family, and

with Christian ancestors: Gregory was the son of

the Bishop of Nazianzus, who had been brought

up an idolater, or rather an Hypsistarian, a

mongrel sort of religionist, part Jew, part Pagan.{10}

He was brought over to Christianity by the efforts

of his wife Nonna, and at Nazianzus admitted by

baptism into the Church. In process of time he

was made bishop of that city; but not having a

very firm hold of the faith, he was betrayed in{15}

360 into signing the Ariminian creed, which caused

him much trouble, and from which at length his

son recovered him. C?sarea being at no

unsurmountable distance from Nazianzus, the two

friends had known each other in their own country;{20}

but their intimacy began at Athens, whither

they separately repaired for the purposes of

education. This was about A.D. 350, when each of

them was twenty-one years of age. Gregory

came to the seat of learning shortly before Basil,{25}

and thus was able to be his host and guide on his

arrival; but fame had reported Basil's merits

before he came, and he seems to have made his

way, in a place of all others most difficult to a

stranger, with a facility peculiar to himself. He

soon found himself admired and respected by

his fellow-students; but Gregory was his only

friend, and shared with him the reputation of{5}

talents and attainments. They remained at

Athens four or five years; and, at the end of the

time, made the acquaintance of Julian, since of

evil name in history as the Apostate. Gregory

thus describes in after life his early intimacy{10}

with Basil:

"Athens and letters followed on my stage;

Others may tell how I encountered them;-

How in the fear of God, and foremost found

Of those who knew a more than mortal lore;-{15}

And how, amid the venture and the rush

Of maddened youth with youth in rivalry,

My tranquil course ran like some fabled spring,

Which bubbles fresh beneath the turbid brine;

Not drawn away by those who lure to ill,{20}

But drawing dear ones to the better part.

There, too, I gained a further gift of God,

Who made me friends with one of wisdom high,

Without compeer in learning and in life.

Ask ye his name?-in sooth, 'twas Basil, since{25}

My life's great gain,-and then my fellow dear

In home, and studious search, and knowledge earned.

May I not boast how in our day we moved

A truest pair, not without name in Greece;

Had all things common, and one only soul{30}

In lodgment of a double outward frame?

Our special bond, the thought of God above,

And the high longing after holy things.

And each of us was bold to trust in each,

Unto the emptying of our deepest hearts;

And then we loved the more, for sympathy

Pleaded in each, and knit the twain in one."

The friends had been educated for rhetoricians,

and their oratorical powers were such, that they{5}

seemed to have every prize in prospect which a

secular ambition could desire. Their names were

known far and wide, their attainments

acknowledged by enemies, and they themselves personally

popular in their circle of acquaintance. It was{10}

under these circumstances that they took the

extraordinary resolution of quitting the world

together,-extraordinary the world calls it,

utterly perplexed to find that any conceivable

objects can, by any sane person, be accounted{15}

better than its own gifts and favors. They

resolved to seek baptism of the Church, and to

consecrate their gifts to the service of the Giver.

With characters of mind very different-the

one grave, the other lively; the one desponding,{20}

the other sanguine; the one with deep feelings,

the other with feelings acute and warm;-they

agreed together in holding, that the things that

are seen are not to be compared to the things that

are not seen. They quitted the world, while it{25}

entreated them to stay.

What passed when they were about to leave

Athens represents as in a figure the parting which

they and the world took of each other. When

the day of valediction arrived, their companions{30}

and equals, nay, some of their tutors, came about

them, and resisted their departure by entreaties,

arguments, and even by violence. This occasion

showed, also, their respective dispositions; for

the firm Basil persevered, and went; the

tender-hearted Gregory was softened, and stayed awhile{5}

longer. Basil, indeed, in spite of the reputation

which attended him, had, from the first, felt

disappointment with the celebrated abode of

philosophy and literature; and seems to have given up

the world from a simple conviction of its emptiness.{10}

"He," says Gregory, "according to the way of human

nature, when, on suddenly falling in with what we hoped

to be greater, we find it less than its fame, experienced

some such feeling, began to be sad, grew impatient, and

could not congratulate himself on his place of residence.{15}

He sought an object which hope had drawn for him;

and he called Athens 'hollow blessedness.'"

Gregory himself, on the contrary, looked at

things more cheerfully; as the succeeding

sentences show.{20}

"Thus Basil; but I removed the greater part of his

sorrow, meeting it with reason, and smoothing it with

reflections, and saying (what was most true) that

character is not at once understood, nor except by long time

and perfect intimacy; nor are studies estimated, by{25}

those who are submitted to them, on a brief trial and

by slight evidence. Thus I reassured him, and by

continual trials of each other, I bound myself to him."

-Orat. 43.