End Of Book Vi.
CHAPTER XIII
Our conflict with the Devil is more grievous than any other
612. Do not think I overstrain the matter by what I say, nor suppose that my words are exaggerated; because we can see none of the things which are invisible, while we are enclosed in this body as in some prison. For you would witness a conflict far greater and more dreadful than this, if with these eyes of yours, you could ever see the devil’s most dark array and mad attack.
613. For neither brass nor steel are there, nor horses and chariots and wheels, nor fire and arrows, which are visible; but other engines far more dire than they. These are enemies who need not breastplate and shield, nor swords and spears; but the sight alone of the accursed host suffices to paralyze the soul, unless it is most nobly constituted, and enjoys much foresight from God, before it is called personal labour.
614. And if it were possible, that having put off this body, or while being in the body, you could clearly and fearlessly witness all his array and war against us, you would see, not torrents of blood, nor dead bodies, but so many corpses of souls, and wounds so dreadful, that you would think to be mere child’s play and sport rather than war, the whole picture of war which I have just gone over with you, so many are there smitten every day.
615. But the wounds are not fatal in the same sense in the two cases, but as far as the soul is above the body, so wide is the difference of the one death from the other. For when the soul receives a wound and falls, it does not lie insensible, as the body does, but being gnawed by an evil conscience is now henceforward tormented, and after its removal hence, at the time of judgment, it is delivered to undying vengeance. Now if any one should be without sorrow for the wounds inflicted by the devil, his misery becomes the greater for his insensibility. For he who is not pained by a first wound will readily receive a second, and after that another; because the wicked one will not cease smiting until the last breath, when he finds a soul supine and disregarding previous strokes.
616. If you would inquire into the manner of attacking, you would find it more violent and varied here; for no one knows so many forms of fraud and guile as that wicked one, (whereby he acquires the greater influence), nor can any person have such implacable hostility towards his greatest foes, as the evil one has against the human kind.
617. If we should examine with what eagerness he contends, here too would it be ridiculous to institute a comparison with men. If we should select the most fierce and cruel wild beasts, and wish to compare them with the madness of this, we should find that they were most gentle and tame in comparison: such fury does he breathe when he assails men’s souls.
618. The time of conflict is in this world’s battles brief, and in that short space there is many a truce; for the approach of night, weariness of slaying, time for food, and many other things are wont to give the warrior respite; so that he may put off his armour and take breath, and refresh himself with eating and drinking, and by many other means regain his former strength. But in our war with the evil one, there is no room for laying aside arms, nor can sleep be taken by him that would always abide unwounded. For one of two things must happen,—either to be disarmed and so to fall and perish, or to stand continually equipped and vigilant. He is ever standing with his array, on the watch for our relaxing, and he brings greater diligence to bear upon our destruction than we upon our own salvation.
619. The fact that he is not seen by us, and that his assault is sudden, (which in particular are the cause of innumerable mischiefs to those who do not always watch), shows that this war is far more uncertain.
620. Would you then that I should command Christ’s soldiers here? But this would be to be general for the devil; for when he who ought to marshal and array others, is the most unskilled and weak of all; such a one, betraying by his inexperience those entrusted to him, carries on war for the devil rather than for Christ.
621. But why do you groan? why weep? for my lot merits not lamentations now, but joy and gladness.
[BASIL.] But not mine, said he; but it deserves innumerable griefs. Even now I am scarcely conscious of the evils into which you have led me.
622. I came to you, anxious to learn how ever I should answer for you against your accusers; and you send me away after substituting another care for that I had. I no longer feel concerned how I shall answer them for you, but how I shall answer to God for myself and my faults.
623. I therefore pray and implore you, if you have any concern for my interests, ‘if there be any consolation in Christ, if any comfort of love, if any bowels and mercies,’ you know that you more than all led me into this danger,—stretch out your hand, and by saying and doing what can restore me, do not bear to abandon me for the briefest space, but now more than before let us live together!
[CHRYSOSTOM.] 624. I answered smiling, How can I assist and be of use under so great a burden of affairs? But since this is your pleasure, take heart, dear soul, for whenever you can find breathing time amid your cares, I will be with you, and will encourage you, and nothing shall be wanting that is in my power.
Hereupon, weeping yet more, he arose; and when I had embraced him and kissed his head, I led him forth, exhorting him to bear nobly what had occurred.
I believe, said I, that through Christ who has called you, and appointed you over His own sheep, that you will gain such boldness by this ministry, as to receive me also into your eternal tabernacle if I am in danger at that day.
END OF BOOK VI.
FINIS.