亞流派史 第 1 章 第 3/5 段

Given the sort of things they did in perpetrating these acts, who upon hearing of them would not judge them to be anything rather than Christians? For when Liberius sent Eutropius the presbyter and Hilary the deacon to the emperor with letters, at the very time when Lucifer and his companions were also making their confession, they immediately exiled the presbyter, but stripped the deacon Hilary and scourged his back and exiled him, shouting as they did so:

‘Why did you not resist Liberius, but even brought letters from him?’ And it was Ursacius and Valens and the eunuchs with them who did this.

And the deacon, while being scourged, blessed the Lord, remembering him who said:

‘I gave my back to the scourges.’

But those scourging him laughed and mocked him, not blushing that they were outraging a Levite;

and while these men, laughing, thought this fitting conduct for themselves, that man endured it while giving blessing.

For to be struck is proper to Christians, but to scourge Christians is the audacious deed of Pilate and Caiaphas.

In this manner, then, they attempted from the very beginning to corrupt also the church of the Romans, wishing to mix impiety into it as well; but Liberius, once exiled, later, after a period of two years, gave way, and, fearing the death that was threatened, signed.

But even this shows both their violence and Liberius' hatred of the heresy and his vote in favor of Athanasius, given at the time when he still had freedom of choice.

For whatever is done under torture, contrary to one's original judgment, is not the wish of those who were terrified, but the design of those who tortured them.

Nevertheless, they attempted to do everything on behalf of the heresy.

But in each church, keeping the faith they had been taught, the people await their [rightful] teachers, and have cast down the Christ-fighting heresy, and all turn away from it as from a serpent.

But having done such and so many things, the impious considered they had accomplished nothing, so long as the great Hosius remained untried by their wickedness.

Indeed, they even resolved to extend their madness against so venerable an old man.

They were not ashamed that he was the father of the bishops, nor reverent that he had proved himself a confessor, nor did they respect the length of his episcopate — that he had held it for sixty years or more — but they held everything in contempt and looked only to the heresy, men who truly neither feared God nor respected man.

Approaching Constantius, then, they again used words such as these:

‘We have done everything and exiled the bishop of the Romans; and before him we exiled as many other bishops as we could; and we have filled every place with terror;’

‘yet all these great deeds of yours avail us nothing, and nothing whatsoever has been accomplished by us, so long as Hosius remains.’

‘For while he stays in his own place, everyone else too remains in their own churches; he alone is sufficient, in word and in faith, to persuade everyone against us.’

‘This man presides over synods, and wherever he writes, he is heeded;’

‘this is the man who drew up the faith at Nicaea and proclaimed everywhere that the Arians are heretics.’

‘If, therefore, this man remains, the exile of all the others will have been in vain;’

‘for our heresy is being swept out of the way.’

‘Begin, then, to persecute this man too, and do not spare him, even though he is aged.’

‘For indeed our heresy knows not how to honor even the gray hairs of the aged.’

On hearing this, the emperor did not delay, but, knowing the man and the old man's ability, writes and orders him to come to him — just as he had also tried Liberius at the outset —

‘[demanding] that he write against us, but hold communion with the Arians.’

But the old man, hearing this with displeasure and grieved that such a thing had even been uttered at all, rebuked him and, having won him over, departed for his homeland and his own church.

But when the heretics kept lamenting and provoking him yet again (and he had the eunuchs too, reminding him and inciting him further), the emperor then writes with threats.

And Hosius was subjected to abuse, yet he was not moved by fear of the plot, but, standing firm in resolve and having built the house of his faith upon the rock, spoke out boldly against the heresy, counting the threats contained in the letters as mere drops of rain and gusts of wind.

So when Constantius wrote repeatedly — at one point flattering him as a father, at another threatening and naming those who had been exiled — saying:

‘Are you still the only one who stands against the heresy? Be persuaded, and write against Athanasius.’

‘For whoever writes against him will certainly be thinking the thoughts of the Arians along with us.’

Hosius, undaunted, though suffering abuse, himself also wrote such words in reply, and we have read the letter, and it stands written at the end [of this work]:

‘I made my confession the first time also, when the persecution occurred under your grandfather Maximian.’

‘And even if you now persecute me, I am ready even now to endure anything whatsoever rather than shed innocent blood and betray the truth; but I cannot accept you when you write and threaten such things.’

‘Cease writing such things, and do not hold the opinions of Arius, nor listen to the Easterners, nor believe those about Ursacius and Valens.’

‘For what they say, they do not utter for the sake of Athanasius, but for the sake of their own heresy.’

Believe me, Constantius: in age I am like a grandfather to you.

I myself was present at the synod held at Sardica, when you and your late brother Constans gathered us all together.

And I myself summoned the enemies of Athanasius to come to the church where I was lodging, so that, if they had anything against him, they might say it, promising them to have confidence and to expect nothing other than that the judgment concerning all matters would be just.

And this I did not once only, but a second time as well, urging them, if they were unwilling before the whole synod, at least before me alone; promising again that, if he should be shown guilty, he would certainly be cast out by us too, but if he should be found innocent and prove you to be false accusers — should you still refuse the man, I myself will persuade Athanasius to come with me to the Spains.

And Athanasius agreed to these terms and did not object, but they, having no confidence in anything, kept declining.

Athanasius again came to your camp, when you sent for him by letter, and he requested that his enemies, who were present in Antioch itself, be summoned — either all or each of them — so that either they might prove their charge or be refuted, and so that they might either show him, present, to be such as they alleged, or not slander him in his absence.

But you would not even tolerate him saying this, and they too excused themselves.

Why then do you still listen to those who slander him? How can you tolerate Valens and Ursacius, seeing that they have repented and confessed their calumny in writing? For they confessed that they suffered no violence, as they themselves pretend — no soldiers pressing upon them, your brother knowing nothing of it (for such things as now happen did not happen under him — God forbid) — but that they themselves, of their own will, went up to Rome and wrote in the presence of the bishop and the presbyters.

having previously also written to Athanasius a friendly and peaceable letter.

But if they now allege violence as an excuse, even they themselves know this to be a lie, and you yourself do not accept it either.

Cease from using violence, and neither write such letters nor send counts.

But also release those who have been exiled, lest, while you accuse others of violence, they should commit even greater violence.

What palace official of his compelled anyone to sign against someone, that Valens and his party should say such things? Cease, I beseech you, and remember that you are but a mortal man; fear the day of judgment; keep yourself pure for that day.

Do not insert yourself into ecclesiastical matters, nor give us commands concerning these things, but rather learn them from us.

To you God has entrusted the kingdom; to us he has entrusted the affairs of the Church.

And just as he who secretly usurps your authority opposes the God who ordained it, so fear lest you too, by drawing to yourself the affairs of the Church, become liable to a great charge.

'Render,' it is written, 'the things of Caesar unto Caesar, and the things of God unto God.'

It is not permitted to us, then, to rule upon the earth, nor do you, O emperor, have authority to burn incense.

These things, then, I write out of concern for your salvation; but as for what you wrote to me, this is my judgment:

I do not give my consent to the Arians — indeed I anathematize their heresy — nor will I write against Athanasius, whom both we and the Church of the Romans and the whole synod have cleared.

For indeed, recognizing these very things, you yourself sent for the man and permitted him, with honor, to return to his homeland and his church.

What, then, has been the pretext for so great a change? For the same men who were his enemies before are his enemies now.

And what they now whisper (for they do not utter it when he is present), these same things they were already slandering him with before you sent for Athanasius.

These same charges they also kept repeating when they came before the synod, and when required by me, as I said before, to produce proofs, they were unable to supply them;

for if they had had any, they would not have fled in so shameful a manner.

Who then has persuaded you, after so long a time, to forget your own letters and your own words? Restrain yourself, and do not be persuaded by wicked men, lest, through what you owe one another, you make yourself liable to guilt.

For here in this life you show them deference, but at the judgment you alone will have to give your defense.

These men wish, through you, to wrong their own personal enemy, and they want you to become the minister of their own wickedness, so that through you they may also sow the abominable heresy into the Church.

It is not wise to cast oneself into manifest danger for the pleasure of others.

Cease, I beseech you, and be persuaded by me, Constantius.

For it is fitting both that I should write these things, and that you should not despise them.

These things, then, the Abrahamic elder, Hosius — holy in truth as in name — thought and wrote; but he neither desisted from plotting nor ceased seeking a pretext against him, but continued threatening terribly, so that either by force he might make him recant, or, if he would not be persuaded, might exile him.

Not only does he refuse to subscribe against Athanasius, but for his sake he even pronounces condemnation upon us as well, and he so hates the heresy that he writes to others urging them rather to endure death than to become traitors of the truth.

For on account of it our beloved Athanasius is persecuted, and Liberius, bishop of the Romans, and all the others are plotted against.

Having heard these things, Constantius — patron of impiety and champion of the heresy — and learning that there were especially others too throughout the Spains who thought as Hosius did, having tried to make them also sign, and being unable to compel them, sends for Hosius.

(for by then he was already a hundred years old) — yet the loveless man felt no shame.

For all these things the new Ahab, and another Belshazzar arisen in our time, disregarded on account of his impiety.

For he used such violence against the old man, and pressed him so hard, that, worn down, he scarcely — and only with great difficulty — entered into communion with Valens and Ursacius, yet still did not sign against Athanasius.

But even so, the old man was not remiss; for, being about to die, as if drawing up his testament, he bore witness to the violence done to him, and anathematized the Arian heresy, and charged that no one should accept it.

Who, seeing these things — or even only hearing of them — is not himself amazed, and will not cry out to the Lord, saying:

'Will you then bring Israel to utter destruction?' Who, considering these things, will not also fittingly himself cry aloud, saying:

'Astonishment and dreadful things have come to pass upon the earth; the heaven was astonished at this, and the earth trembled yet more exceedingly'? The fathers of the peoples and the teachers of the faith are taken away, and the impious are brought into the churches.

Who — when Liberius, bishop of Rome, was exiled, and the great Hosius, father of the bishops, suffered thus — who, seeing so many bishops from Spain and other regions being exiled, did not recognize, even with but little perception, that the charges against Athanasius and the others are false pretexts, and that everything is full of calumny?

For on this account, they too endured to suffer everything, perceiving the plot that arose from the calum-

-ny of those men.

For after accomplishing everything he wished against the churches in Italy and the other regions — after exiling some, compelling others, and filling every place everywhere with fear — he then turned his fury, like some disease, upon Alexandria.

And this was done craftily by the enemies of Christ.

For in order that they might have the appearance of the subscription of many bishops, and that Athanasius, once persecuted, might not even have a bishop to whom he could lament his sufferings, for this reason, acting beforehand, they filled every place with fear.

And they kept this man in reserve for the plot, the fools not knowing that they were displaying not the free choice of bishops, but the violence exercised by themselves; and that, even if brothers should forsake him, even if friends and acquaintances should withdraw far off, and no one be found to share his grief and comfort him, yet, beyond all things, refuge in God suffices.

For Elijah too was alone when persecuted, and God was all things and in all things to that holy man.

And this pattern too the Savior has given us: left alone, he was plotted against by his enemies, so that, even if we, being persecuted, should be forsaken by men, we might not lose heart, but might set our hope on him, and not betray the truth — which, even though at the beginning it may seem to be afflicted, yet afterward even those who persecute it will come to acknowledge it.

They incite him, therefore, and the emperor writes for the first time, and sends a threat to the duke and the soldiers.

And such terrible and savage acts occurred against the Church — which have been recounted a little before in few words, and which all came to know — from which the people drew up depositions, which anyone may also read, written at the end of this account.

Again he writes malicious things to the council and the people of Alexandria, inciting the younger men, so that, all coming together, they should either drive out Athanasius, or else know themselves to be reckoned his enemies.

He himself, then, even before these things arrived, from the time when Syrianus attacked the church, had already withdrawn, knowing what is written:

'But hide yourself for a very little while, until the wrath pass by.' And the bearer of these letters was one Heraclius, a count by rank, going ahead of a certain George, who was sent by the emperor as a spy.

For he who is sent by that man could not be a true bishop — far be it! — as both the events themselves and the very preludes of his entrance show.

The letters, then, he published publicly, and they revealed great shame on the part of the one who wrote them.

For since, as the great Hosius wrote, he could not find a plausible pretext for his own change of policy, he devised one far more unseemly still, for himself and for those who had counseled him to it; for he said:

'Out of respect for my friendship with my brother — he of divine and pious memory — I permitted him for a time to make his journey to you.'

But this shows him to have both broken his promise and to be ungrateful toward his own brother even after his death.

Then he calls him 'of divine and pious memory,' just as indeed he is worthy to be called — he whose command and friendship he professes to respect, as he himself wrote — and yet, even if he had granted this concession for the sake of the late Constans, he ought not to have become improper toward his brother, so that, just as he became heir of his kingdom, he might likewise become heir of his purpose.

But he deposed Vetranio, though he wished to appear as demanding what was just, saying:

'To whom does the inheritance belong after brothers' death?' Yet on account of the abominable heresy of the enemies of Christ, he neither knows what is just, but even becomes improper toward his own brothers.

On account of which heresy he did not even think to keep his father's purpose whole and entire, but pretends to observe it in whatever pleases the impious, while in whatever would grieve them, he does not know how to preserve even reverence toward his father.

For that man, his father, sent the bishop into Gaul for a time, on account of the calumny of the party of Eusebius, because of the cruelty of those plotting against him — this the late Constantine, his brother, made clear after their father's death, as is shown from his own letters — yet he was not persuaded to send as bishop whomever the party of Eusebius wished, but rather, even when they were willing, he prevented them, and when they attempted it, he restrained them with a terrible threat.

How then, if he wished to preserve his own father's purpose, as he writes, did he send first Gregory, and now the treasury-devouring George? Or why does he zealously strive to introduce into the church the Arians — whom that man named Porphyrians — and, setting them in charge, exile others? And even if his father did indeed receive Arius, yet Arius, having perjured himself and having burst asunder, dissolved his father's kindness;

for indeed he himself, upon learning the truth, thenceforth condemned him as a heretic.

But how, while pretending to care for the ecclesiastical canon, has he contrived to act entirely contrary to it in everything? For what canon allows the bishop to be sent from the palace? Or what canon allows soldiers to invade the churches? Or who has ever handed down that counts and irrational eunuchs should preside over ecclesiastical affairs, and that the judgment concerning so-called bishops should be made known by imperial edict? He falsifies everything on account of his unholy heresy;

for indeed, contrary to his father's judgment, he then also sent Philagrius a second time as prefect, and the present events have thus come to pass.

Nor does he speak truly concerning his brother either.

For indeed, even after that man's death, he wrote to the bishop not once, nor twice, but a third time.

And again he promised that he would not change his mind, but also urged him to take courage, so that he should be troubled by no one, but should remain in the church with complete freedom from care.

[He wrote] to Philicissimus, then dux, and to Nestorius the prefect, that whether Philip the prefect or anyone else should dare to plot against Athanasius, they should prevent him.

How then, if he yielded on account of his brother, did he write also after his death? But if even then he wrote for the sake of remembering that man, why after this did he altogether act ungratefully, persecuting the man and writing such things, in which he pretends it is a judgment of bishops, yet himself acts as he pleases—not, however, escaping notice, but rather having close at hand the proof of his villainy? For if it is a judgment of bishops, what has a king in common with it? But if it is the threat of a king, what need is there here of those called bishops? For when, in the whole of time, has such a thing ever been heard of? When did a judgment of the Church ever receive its authority from a king, or was such a judgment ever known at all? Many synods have taken place before this, many judgments of the Church have occurred, but neither did the fathers ever persuade a king concerning these matters, nor did a king ever meddle in the affairs of the Church.

Paul the apostle had friends among the household of Caesar, and in writing he greeted the Philippians from them, but he did not take them as partners in [ecclesiastical] judgments.

But now this is a strange new spectacle, and it is an invention of the Arian heresy.

For heretics and King Constantius have joined forces, so that he too, having the pretext of bishops, might use his power against whomever he wished, and, though persecuting, not be called a persecutor;

and these men, in turn, having the power of the king at their disposal, might plot against whomever they wished—

and they wish [to plot] against those who are not impious as they themselves are.

One might see this played out among them like a comedy upon a stage: those called bishops acting a part, and Constantius carrying out what they devise, and in turn this man making promises, as Herod did to Herodias, while these men again dance out their slanders unto the exile and death of those who are pious toward the Lord.

Whom, then, have they not harmed by their slanders? Against whom have these fighters against Christ not become plotters? Whom did Constantius not exile, once brought down by their accusations? When did he not listen to them with delight? And, what is astonishing, whom has he ever received speaking against them, rather than welcoming them, whatever they might say? What church now worships Christ in freedom? For whether one is pious, he is in danger; or whether he dissembles, he lives in fear.

He has filled everything, so far as it depended on him, with hypocrisy and impiety.

For if anywhere there is someone pious and a lover of Christ (and there are many such everywhere, like the prophets and Elijah the great), they hide themselves, if perchance they too find some faithful man like Obadiah, and either withdraw into a cave and the clefts of the earth, or wander about in desert places and spend their time there.

For such are the slanders that these senseless men fabricate, just as Jezebel devised against Naboth, and the Jews against the Savior; and so that man, being patron of the heresy and wishing to pervert the truth, as Ahab turned the vineyard into a garden of herbs, does whatever those men wish, since he too has heard from them precisely what he wished to hear.

Thus, as I said before, he exiled the true bishops, since they would not be impious as he wished; and thus also now, against Athanasius, he has sent Heraclius the comes, and publicly posted the edicts, and announced the emperor's commands: that if they did not obey the letters, there would be withdrawal of the bread-dole and destruction of the idols, and altogether captivity for many decurions and for the common people.

Then, though threatening these things, he was not ashamed to say publicly, in a loud voice:

He commanded that the churches be handed over.

while everyone was astonished at this, and nodding to one another and saying:

'Has Constantius become a heretic?' Though it behooved him to blush, he rather compelled decurions and townspeople—pagans, temple-wardens of the idols—to sign concerning these matters and to acknowledge that they would receive whomever the emperor should send as bishop.

Indeed, it was truly in defense of the canons of the Church that Constantius caused this to happen!

For instead of the church, he sought out the marketplace; instead of the people's signatures, he demanded them from the temple-wardens—

for he knew that he was sending, to those who signed, not a bishop for Christians, but some meddlesome intruder.

The pagans, then, as though purchasing by their signature the inviolability of their own idols, and some of the tradesmen too, unwillingly indeed, nevertheless signed, as though it concerned a governor or some other judge being sent, on account of the threats reported from him.

For what else were pagans likely to do than that which pleases the emperor? Now when the people had assembled in the great church (for it was the fourth day of the week), on the following day Heraclius the comes took with him Catephronius, the prefect of Egypt, and Faustinus the catholicus—the Bithynian, a heretic—and they incited the young men of the marketplace who worshipped idols, saying that this was the emperor's command: that they should attack the church and stone the people.

Now most of the people had already gone out, since the dismissal had taken place; but a few women having remained behind, it happened just as they had ordered.

For a few had only just been sitting there after the prayer, when the young men immediately rushed in, stripped, with stones and clubs, and stoned some of them, while the godless men cut the holy bodies of the virgins with blows, dragged off their veils and bared their heads, and, as the women pulled back, the wretches kicked them with their feet.

These things are terrible, and exceedingly so; but what happened afterward was more terrible still, and more unbearable than any outrage.

For knowing the modesty of the virgins and the purity of their hearing, and that they could bear stones and swords more easily than words of shameful speech, they used such words against them as they attacked.

And the Arians prompted these things to the young men, for they laughed as such things were said and done.

And the holy virgins and other honorable women fled from such words as from the bite of asps, but the fighters against Christ abetted them, and perhaps even joined their voices with the young men's;

for indeed they took delight in the licentious words cast forth by those men.

Then, as though fulfilling the whole of the command (for this was what was zealously being pursued, and this is what both the comes and the catholicus were ordering), they seized the benches, the throne, and the table (for it was made of wood), and the veils of the church, and whatever else they were able, and having carried them out, burned them before the gateway in the great square, and cast on frankincense.

O who, on hearing this, would not weep, and perhaps even stop his ears, so as not to endure even hearing it told again, deeming even the mere hearing of such a thing harmful? For they even acclaimed their own idols and said:

'Constantius has become a pagan, and the Arians have come to acknowledge our ways!'

for they do not even care to feign paganism, provided only that the heresy has its support.

Indeed, they even attempted to sacrifice a little heifer that was used for watering the cultivated plots in the Caesareum, and they would have sacrificed it, had it not been female—

for they said that such females were not permitted to be sacrificed among them.

Such, then, were the deeds the impious Arians performed together with the pagans, supposing that these things would redound to our disgrace.

But divine justice exposed their wickedness, and wrought a great and extraordinary sign, showing thereby clearly to all that, just as in their impiety they dare offend against none other than the Lord himself, so also in doing these things they attempted once more to commit outrage against him;

and it received a demonstration more manifest than any ordinary marvel.

For one of the licentious young men ran in and, in his audacity, sat down upon the throne.

And having sat down, the wretch sang out through his nose something obscene.

Then, rising, he tried by force to tear the throne away and drag it toward himself, not knowing that he was thereby drawing down judgment upon his own head.

For just as those who then dwelt in Azotus, having dared to touch the ark—which it was not even lawful for them to look upon—immediately perished on account of it, first being afflicted with torments in their hinder parts, so too this wretch, no sooner had he dared to drag it than what he was dragging drew itself upon him; and, as though justice were striking back, the wood struck his own belly, and instead of the throne, by the blow he brought forth his own entrails, and the throne tore the life out of him rather than he tore it away from its place.

He was poured out, then, in his bowels, as it is written concerning Judas, and having fallen he was carried away, and after one day he perished.

And another man, entering with palm branches and, like a pagan, waving them with his hand and mocking, was immediately struck blind, and could no longer see nor even know where in the world he was;

and he too, on the verge of falling, was led out by the hand by those with him, being supported, scarcely regaining his senses after a day had passed, the bold man not knowing either what he had done or what he had suffered.

Seeing these things, the pagans were afraid and dared nothing further; but the Arians, even so, were not ashamed, but, like the unbelieving Jews, though seeing signs, did not believe.

For they were hardened all the more, like Pharaoh, having likewise fixed their hopes low, in the king and in his eunuchs.

The pagans, then—or rather the most degraded among the pagans—they permitted to carry out the aforementioned deeds;

for they had Faustinus to play such a part for them and incite the pagans—Faustinus, who was called the catholicus, but was vulgar in manner and licentious in soul.