Book 1: Friendship and Beneficial Deception
1. A Friendship Above the Rest
I had many genuine, true friends, men who understood the laws of friendship and faithfully observed them. But among this large number, one surpassed all the rest in his attachment to me. He strove to outdo them as much as they themselves outdid ordinary acquaintances. He was constantly at my side, for we pursued the same studies and had the same teachers. We shared the same eagerness and zeal for our work, and the same circumstances kindled an equally passionate desire in both of us. This agreement continued after our schooldays. When we had left school and needed to consider what course of life would be best for us, we again found ourselves of the same mind.
2. Shared Circumstances
Other things also kept this harmony unbroken and secure. Neither could boast over the other about the greatness of his homeland. Nor was I weighed down with riches while he was oppressed by poverty. Our means matched as closely as our tastes. Our families were also of equal rank, so everything supported our natural inclination toward one another.
3. Unequal Progress in Monastic Life
But when it became our duty to pursue the blessed life of monks and true philosophy, our balance was no longer even. His scale rose high, while I, still entangled in worldly desires, dragged mine down and kept it low. I weighed it down with the fantasies in which young men commonly indulge. Our friendship remained as firm as before, but our companionship was interrupted. People who were not interested in the same things could not spend much time together.
As soon as I began to emerge a little from the flood of worldliness, he welcomed me with open arms. Yet even then we could not regain our former equality. Having begun before me and shown great earnestness, he again rose above my level and soared to a great height.
4. A Plan to Live Together
Yet he was a good man and valued my friendship highly. He withdrew from all the other brothers and spent his entire time with me. He had wanted to do this before, but, as I was saying, my frivolity had prevented him. A man who frequented the law courts and was excited by the pleasures of the theater could not often keep company with someone who was fixed to his books and never set foot in the marketplace.
When these obstacles were removed and he had brought me into the same way of life as himself, he gave free rein to the desire he had carried so long. He could not bear to leave me even for a moment. He kept urging that we should each leave our own home and live together. He did persuade me, and we began to put the plan into effect.
5. My Mother’s Plea
But my mother’s continual laments prevented me from granting him this favor, or rather, from accepting this blessing from him. When she realized that I was considering this step, she took me into her private room. Sitting beside me on the bed where she had given birth to me, she shed torrents of tears. Her words were even more pitiful than her weeping. This was her sorrowful plea:
My mother: “My child, it was not Heaven’s will that I should long enjoy the blessing of your father’s virtue. His death came soon after the pains I endured at your birth. It left you an orphan and me a widow before my time, facing all the horrors of widowhood. Only those who have experienced them can fully understand them.
“No words can adequately describe the storm-tossed condition of a young woman who has only recently left her father’s home and has no experience in business. Suddenly she is overwhelmed by sorrow and forced to bear a burden of care too great for her age and sex. She must correct her servants’ laziness and watch for their dishonesty, resist her relatives’ schemes, and bravely endure the threats of tax collectors and the harshness of tax assessments.
“If the dead husband has left a child, even a girl causes her mother great anxiety, though she is spared much expense and fear. But a boy fills her with ten thousand fears and many anxieties every day. And that is without mentioning the great expense she must bear if she wishes to provide generously for his upbringing.
“Yet none of these things persuaded me to marry again or bring a second husband into your father’s house. I held on as I was, amid the storm and uproar, and did not shrink from the iron furnace of widowhood (Deut 4:20; Jer 11:4). My chief help was grace from above. But in those terrible trials, it was also a great comfort to look continually at your face and preserve in you a living image of the man who had gone, an image that was a very close likeness.
“That is why you gave me such comfort even as an infant, before you had learned to speak, at the age when children are their parents’ greatest delight. Nor can you complain that, although I bore widowhood bravely, I diminished your inheritance. I know that this has happened to many who have had the misfortune to become orphans. Besides keeping your inheritance entirely intact, I spared no necessary expense to give you an honorable position. For this I spent some of my own fortune and my marriage dowry.
“Do not think that I say this to reproach you. In return for all these benefits, I ask only one favor: do not plunge me into a second widowhood or revive the grief that has now been laid to rest. Wait for my death. Perhaps I shall depart soon. The young look forward to a distant old age, but we who have grown old have only death to await.
“When you have buried my body and mingled my bones with your father’s, embark on a long voyage and sail on whatever sea you wish. Then no one will hinder you. But as long as I live, be content to live with me. I beg you, do not oppose God in vain by bringing these great calamities, without cause, upon me, who have done you no wrong.
“If you have reason to complain that I drag you into worldly cares and force you to attend to business, let no respect for the laws of nature, your upbringing, or custom restrain you. Flee from me as from an enemy. But if, on the contrary, I do everything to give you leisure for your journey through this life, let that bond at least, if nothing else, keep you beside me. Even if you could say that ten thousand people loved you, no one would give you as much freedom as I do, because no one is equally anxious for your welfare.”
6. Basil’s Ordination and My Escape
My mother said these things and more, and I repeated them to that noble young man. Far from discouraging him, her words made him press his former request even more urgently. While we remained in this position, with him continually pleading and me refusing to agree, a sudden report disturbed us both: we were about to be raised to the dignity of the episcopate.
As soon as I heard this rumor, I was seized with fear and perplexity. I feared being captured against my will. I was perplexed because I kept asking how such an idea about us could have entered these men’s minds. Looking at myself, I found nothing worthy of such an honor.
That noble young man came to me privately and discussed the matter as though I knew nothing of the rumor. He begged that in this instance, as before, we should take counsel and act together. He would readily follow whichever course I chose, whether I tried to flee or submitted to capture.
I saw his eagerness and considered that I would inflict a loss on the whole Church if, because of my own weakness, I deprived Christ’s flock of so good a young man, so well qualified to oversee large numbers. So I refrained from revealing the plan I had formed, although I had never before concealed any of my plans from him. I told him that we should postpone our decision until another time, since the matter was not immediately urgent. In this way I persuaded him to put it out of his thoughts, while encouraging him to hope that, if such a thing ever happened to us, I would be of the same mind as he was.
A short time later, when the man who was to ordain us arrived, I stayed hidden. Basil knew nothing of this. He was taken away on another pretext and made to accept the yoke. Because of my promises, he hoped that I would certainly follow him, or rather, supposed that he was following me.
Some of those present saw his resentment at being seized and deceived him. They exclaimed how strange it was that the man generally thought more hot-tempered, meaning me, had submitted so gently to the Fathers’ judgment. Yet Basil, who was considered much wiser and gentler, had proved hotheaded and conceited, unruly, resistant, and argumentative.
He yielded to these rebukes. Afterward, when he learned that I had escaped capture, he came to me deeply dejected. He sat beside me and tried to speak, but distress prevented him from putting into words the violence he had suffered. As soon as he opened his mouth, grief cut his words short before they could pass his lips.
Seeing his tears and agitation, and knowing their cause, I laughed for joy. I seized his right hand, pressed a kiss upon him, and praised God that my plan had succeeded, as I had always prayed it would. But when he saw my delight and my face beaming with joy, he understood that I had deceived him. This made him still more distressed and angry.
7. Basil’s Complaint
When he had recovered a little from his agitation, he began:
Basil: “If you have rejected the part assigned to you and no longer have any regard for me, for what reason I do not know, you should at least consider your own reputation. Instead, you have set everyone talking. The world says that you refused this ministry out of a love of empty glory, and no one will rescue you from that accusation.
“As for me, I cannot bear to go into the marketplace. So many people approach me and reproach me every day. Whenever my close friends see me anywhere in the city, they take me aside and lay most of the blame on me. They say, ‘You knew his intention, since none of his affairs could be kept secret from you. You should not have concealed it. You should have told us, and we would easily have found some plan to capture him.’
“But I am too ashamed and embarrassed to tell them that I did not know you had long been plotting this trick. They might say that our friendship was only a pretense. Even if it is, as indeed it is, and you yourself would not deny it after what you have done to me, we should still conceal our misfortune from the outside world and from people who hold no very high opinion of us.
“I shrink from telling them the truth about how things really stand between us. From now on I am forced to keep silent, look at the ground, and turn away to avoid the people I meet. If I escape condemnation on the first charge, I am forced to face judgment for lying. They will never believe me when I say that you placed Basil among those who are not allowed to know your private affairs.
“I will not make much of this, since it has pleased you to act this way. But how shall we bear the disgrace to come? Some accuse you of arrogance, others of a love of empty glory. Our more merciful accusers charge both of us with both offenses. They add that we have insulted those who honored us. Yet even greater indignity would only have been what those men deserved. They passed over so many distinguished men and raised mere youths to a dignity they had never dreamed of obtaining, youths who only yesterday were immersed in worldly interests. And all so that for a short time they might frown, wear dark clothing, and put on a solemn face!
“Men who have diligently practiced self-discipline from the beginning of manhood to extreme old age are now to be governed by youths who have not even heard the laws that should guide them in administering this office. People constantly assail me with these remarks and worse, and I do not know how to answer them.
“But please tell me. I do not suppose that you fled and incurred such hatred from such distinguished men without cause or consideration. I suppose you reached your decision through reason and careful thought. That is why I imagine you have some argument ready in your defense. Tell me, then, whether there is any fair excuse I can offer those who accuse us.
“I do not demand an account of the wrongs I have suffered at your hands, of your deceit or treachery, or of the advantage you have gained from me in the past. I placed my very life, so to speak, in your hands. Yet you treated me with as much cunning as though your task were to guard yourself against an enemy.
“If you knew that this decision of ours would benefit us, you should not have avoided the gain. If, on the contrary, it would harm us, you should have saved me from the loss too, since you always said that you valued me above everyone else. Instead, you did everything to make me fall into the trap. You had no need to use deceit and hypocrisy with someone who always showed you the utmost sincerity and openness in both word and deed.
“Nevertheless, as I said, I do not now accuse you of any of these things. Nor do I reproach you for leaving me alone by breaking off the conversations that often gave us so much pleasure and benefit. I pass over all these things and bear them silently and meekly. This is not because you acted meekly in wronging me, but because, from the day I began to cherish your friendship, I made this my rule: whatever sorrow you caused me, I would never force you to apologize.
“You yourself know that you have inflicted no small loss on me, if you remember what we always said, and what the outside world also said about us: it was a great benefit to be of one mind and to be protected by each other’s friendship. Everyone said that our harmony would bring considerable advantage to many besides ourselves. I never understood how it could benefit others, at least as far as I was concerned. But I did say that we would at least gain this benefit: anyone who wished to contend with us would find us difficult to overcome.
“I never stopped reminding you of these things. I would say, ‘We live in a cruel age, and scheming men are everywhere. True love is gone, and the deadly plague of envy has crept into its place. We walk among snares and along the edges of battlements. If misfortune should befall us, many people are ready to rejoice in it, and they surround us on every side. Yet no one is there to grieve with us, or at least their number can easily be counted. Beware that our separation does not bring us much ridicule and harm worse than ridicule. Brother aided by brother is like a strong city, and well fortified kingdom (Prov 18:19). Do not dissolve this true intimacy or tear down the fortress.’
“I continually said these things and more. I did not suspect anything of this kind. I thought your friendship toward me was entirely sound and offered an unnecessary precaution, wishing to keep someone healthy who was already well. But, without knowing it, I was apparently giving medicine to a sick man. Even then I was not fortunate enough to do any good. All my excessive care gained me nothing.
“You have thrown all these considerations away without a thought. You have cast me adrift like a ship without ballast on an untried ocean, paying no attention to the fierce waves I must encounter. If I ever suffer slander, mockery, or any other insult or threat, and such things must happen frequently, to whom shall I flee for refuge? To whom shall I confide my distress? Who will be willing to help me, drive back my attackers, and put an end to their assaults? Who will comfort me and prepare me to bear the coarse abuse that may still await me?
“There is no one, since you stand apart from this terrible struggle and cannot even hear my cry. Do you see, then, the harm you have done? Now that you have struck the blow, do you understand what a deadly wound you have inflicted? But let all this pass. We cannot undo the past or find a path through difficulties that have no path. What shall I say to the outside world? What defense shall I make against their accusations?”
8. A Defense of Beneficial Deception
Chrysostom: “Take heart,” I replied. “I am ready to answer not only for myself in these matters, but also, as well as I can, for the things you have not called me to account for. Indeed, if you wish, I will begin my defense with them.
“It would be strangely foolish of me to think only of praise from the outside public and do everything I could to silence their accusations, while failing to convince my dearest friend that I am not wronging him. My indifference toward him would exceed the zeal he has shown for me. He has treated me with such patience that he has even refrained from accusing me of the wrongs he says he has suffered at my hands, setting his own interests aside out of consideration for mine.
“Since I have decided to embark on this sea of self-defense, what wrong have I done you? Is it that I misled you and concealed my purpose? Yet I did this for your benefit, though you were deceived, and for the benefit of those to whom I handed you over through this deception.
“If deception is evil without exception and it is never right to use it, I am ready to pay whatever penalty you please. Or rather, since you would never bear to punish me, I will submit myself to the same condemnation that judges pronounce on wrongdoers whom their accusers have convicted. But if deception is not always harmful, and becomes good or bad according to the intention of those who practice it, you must stop complaining of deceit and prove that it was devised against you for a bad purpose.
“Until that is proved, it would only be fair for people who wish to act wisely not merely to refrain from reproaches and accusations, but even to receive the deceiver as a friend. A well-timed deception, undertaken with an upright intention, has such advantages that many people have often been punished for refraining from deceit.
“If you examine the history of the most celebrated generals from the earliest times, you will find that most of their triumphs were achieved through stratagem. They receive greater praise than those who win in open battle. Those who fight openly conduct their campaigns at greater cost in money and men. They gain nothing from their victory but suffer as much distress as the defeated, both through the loss of troops and the exhaustion of funds.
“Besides, they are not even allowed to enjoy all the glory of victory. A considerable share is won by the defeated soldiers who have fallen, for in spirit they were victorious; their defeat was only bodily. If it had been possible for them not to fall when wounded, and if death had not come to put the final stroke to their labors, there would have been no end to their prowess. But the man who wins through stratagem subjects the enemy to ridicule as well as disaster.
“In open battle, both sides share equally in the honors bestowed on courage. But when victory comes through stratagem, they do not equally obtain the honors bestowed on wisdom. The prize belongs entirely to the victors. Another point, no less important, is that they preserve the state’s joy in victory without anything to mar it. Abundant resources and large numbers of men are unlike powers of mind. The former, if continually used in war, necessarily become exhausted and fail their possessors. Wisdom, by its nature, increases the more it is exercised.
“The need for deceit can be found not only in war but also in peace, not merely in affairs of state but also in private life. It appears in the dealings of husband with wife, wife with husband, son with father, friend with friend, and children with a parent. Saul’s daughter could not have rescued her husband from Saul’s hands without deceiving her father (1 Sam 19:12-18). Her brother, wishing to save the man she had rescued when he was again in danger, used the same weapon as the wife (1 Sam 20:11).”
Basil: “But none of these cases applies to me. I am not an enemy or someone trying to harm you. Quite the contrary: I entrusted all my interests to your judgment and always followed it whenever you told me to.”
Chrysostom: “But, my admirable and excellent friend, that is precisely why I took care to say that this kind of deceit is good not only in war and in dealing with enemies, but also in peace and in dealing with our dearest friends.
“To show that it benefits not only those who deceive but also those who are deceived, go to any physician and ask how he relieves his patients of disease. Physicians will tell you that they do not rely on professional skill alone. Sometimes they bring the sick to health by using deceit and combining its assistance with their art. When a patient’s willfulness and the stubbornness of a disease defeat their judgment, they must put on the mask of deceit. As on the stage, they can then conceal what is really happening. If you wish, I will tell you one example among the many stratagems I have heard of physicians devising.
“A man was once suddenly struck by a severe fever. The burning heat increased, but he rejected the remedies that could have reduced it and craved a drink of pure wine. He passionately begged everyone who approached to give him some and let him satisfy this deadly craving. I call it deadly because anyone who granted his request would not only have worsened the fever but also have driven the unfortunate man frantic.
“Professional skill was baffled, its resources exhausted, and its efforts utterly wasted. Then stratagem stepped in and showed its power in the way I will now describe. The physician took an earthenware cup straight from the furnace and soaked it in wine. He then took it out empty and filled it with water. He ordered the sick man’s room darkened with curtains so that the light would not reveal the trick. Then he gave him the cup to drink, pretending that it contained undiluted wine.
“Even before taking it in his hands, the man was deceived by its smell. He did not wait to examine what he had been given. Convinced by the odor and deceived by the darkness, he eagerly gulped down the drink. Once satisfied, he immediately shook off his feeling of suffocation and escaped the imminent danger.
“Do you see the advantage of deceit? If anyone counted all the tricks physicians use, the list would go on indefinitely. Nor is this remedy continually used only by those who heal the body. Those who treat diseases of the soul also use it. In this way the blessed Paul drew those multitudes of Jews to him (Acts 21:26). For this purpose he circumcised Timothy (Acts 16:3), although in his letter he warned the Galatians that Christ would not benefit those who were circumcised (Gal 5:2). For this reason he submitted to the law, although after receiving faith in Christ he counted the righteousness that came from the law as nothing but loss (Phil 3:7).
“Deceit has great value, provided it is not used with a harmful intention. Indeed, this kind of action should not be called deceit, but rather a kind of good management, cleverness, and skill. It can discover ways forward when resources fail and make up for the mind’s deficiencies.
“I would not call Phinehas a murderer, although he killed two human beings with one stroke (Num 25:7). Nor would I call Elijah a murderer after the slaughter of the hundred soldiers and the captain (2 Kgs 1:9-12), or the torrents of blood he caused to be shed by destroying those who sacrificed to devils (1 Kgs 18:40).
“If we conceded this and examined the bare deeds themselves, apart from the doers’ intentions, someone could, if he pleased, judge Abraham guilty of child murder (Gen 22:3) and accuse his grandson Jacob (Gen 27:19) and his descendant Moses (Exod 11:2) of wickedness and deceit. The one gained possession of the birthright, and the other transferred the Egyptians’ wealth to the army of the Israelites. But this is not so. Away with such an audacious thought! We not only acquit them of blame but also admire them for these very things, since even God commended them for the same.
“The man who uses the practice unjustly deserves to be called a deceiver, not the man who uses it for a beneficial purpose. Often it is necessary to deceive and to bring about the greatest benefits by this means, while someone who has taken a straightforward course has done great harm to the person he did not deceive.”
