LETTER OF ST. BASIL, DESCRIBING HIS HERMITAGE.
TO ST. GREGORY NAZIANZEN.
I believe I may at last flatter myself with having found the end of my wanderings. The hopes of being united with thee—or, I should rather say, my dreams, for hopes have been justly termed the waking dreams of men—have remained unfulfilled. God has suffered me to find a place, such as has often flitted before our imaginations; for that which fancy has shown us from afar is now made manifest to me. A high mountain, clothed with thick woods, is watered to the north by fresh and everflowing streams. At its foot lies an extended plain, rendered fruitful by the vapors with which it is moistened. The surrounding forest crowded with trees of different kinds, incloses one as in a strong fortress. This wilderness is bounded by two deep ravines; on the one side the river, rushing in foam down the mountain, forms an almost impassable barrier, while on the other all access is impeded by a broad mountain-ridge. My hut is so situated on the summit of the mountain, that I can overlook the whole plain, and follow throughout its course the Iris, which is more beautiful, and has a more abundant body of water than the Strymon, near Amphipolis. The river of my wilderness, which is more impetuous than any other that I know of, breaks against the jutting rock, and throws itself foaming into the abyss below—an object of admiration to the mountain wanderer, and a source of profit to the natives from the numerous fishes that are found in its waters. Shall I describe to thee the fructifying vapors that rise from the moist earth, or the cool breezes wafted over the rippled face of the waters? Shall I speak of the sweet song of the birds, or of the rich luxuriance of the flowering plants? What charms me beyond all else is the calm repose of the spot. It is only visited occasionally by huntsmen; for my wilderness nourishes herds of deer and wild goats, but not bears and wolves. What other spot could I exchange for this? Alcmæon, when he had found the Echinades, would not wander farther.
Letters of St. Basil, 329–379.
When I see every ledge of rock, every valley and plain, covered with new-born verdure, the varied beauty of the trees, and the lilies at my feet decked by Nature with the double charms of perfume and of color, when in the distance I see the ocean, toward which the clouds are borne onward, my spirit is overpowered by a sadness not wholly devoid of enjoyment. When in autumn the fruits have passed away, the leaves have fallen, and the branches of the trees, dried and shriveled, are robbed of their leafy adornments, we are instinctively led, amid the everlasting and regular change in Nature, to feel the harmony of the wondrous powers pervading all things. He who contemplates them with the eye of the soul, feels the littleness of man amid the greatness of the universe.
St. Gregory of Nyssa, 396.