The Letters of Symmachus, Book IX

Most men love to seek out precious things from every nation. It delights me to summon men devoted to wisdom into the possession of friendship, of whom those who have had experience have long attested you to be foremost: above all our friend Eudoxius, approved by all, a diligent judge of good men; who, having tasted your virtues more closely, has learned to praise others likewise striving toward honorable things, granting to them the desire for learning and for the good life, but to you their perfection. Invited, therefore, by the agreement of report and the trustworthiness of the best witnesses, I extend to you the right hand of friendship; and at the same time I hope that a letter returned from you may declare the concord of your will, and the securing of mutual regard toward us. Farewell.

I must renew with you, not begin afresh, the recommendation of Euscius. For when you were at Rome, called forth at my entreaty to support him, you gladly took up the part of goodwill. It is time, therefore, that you should assist my interests in the person of Euscius: whose modesty will so attend our affairs that it will detract nothing from the reputation of a judge. Farewell.

Long since has the fame both of your character and of your medical skill commended you to me. Encouraged, therefore, by both these praises, I extend to you the hand of friendship, and of my own accord invite you to the trust of our intimacy. And you will give me no small proof of my judgment, in that you have been engaged as instructor in the medical art to those whom we have sent to be trained.

Repay me, therefore, this pledge of mutual goodwill, and receive into training in the art of healing those whom, through Euscius as intermediary, we entrust to your good faith and honor. Farewell.

The friendship begun between us, when you were at Rome, I now increase with the gift of a letter, so that a pledge of service bestowed upon you in absence may give you assurance of my regard. Your diligence toward us will be attested privately by the exchange of letters, and publicly by your forensic care on behalf of Euscius. Farewell.

The agents of absent men, to whom distant affairs are entrusted, live as though released from the laws: since no fear of their masters reaches them, placed as they are far away. There is need, therefore, of judicial vigor, that they may pay what is inscribed in their leases. Wherefore I ask that you deign to assist the suggestions of my notary, to whom I have entrusted certain matters to be presented for the praetorian function, and the recovery of debts owed by liable slaves; and that you not refuse to take upon your own care the burden of my solicitude. Farewell.

On behalf of my son Auxentius, I have taken upon myself the devotion of a parent, the ambition of a suitor, and the trustworthiness of a witness. If, then, the authority of such considerations carries any weight with you, admit, I beg, into your family a young man adorned with all the goods of life and gifts of fortune. I pledge myself to you as surety in all those things which the solicitude of parents is wont to weigh, though I know that future sons-in-law are judged by their character. And yet in this man, besides the ornaments of nature, even wealth abounds toward honor. I could speak more at length; but truth does not wish to be aided by words. Wherefore, if I seem to you no idle advocate, weigh the man by my testimony, and deign to pledge to him, whom I gladly number among my own kin, the marriage of your daughter.

Believe me, when the wishes have gone forward through my intervention, you who are asked will have no less gratitude than he whom I commend. Farewell.

You cannot accuse my long silence, since you have learned that until now I have been in the sacred retinue; whence, having lately returned, I perform the courtesy of sending greeting. Our exchange will bear witness that you have gladly received my letter. Meanwhile I commend the bearer of these writings. It will benefit me, if you should bestow any favor upon his petition. Farewell.

I approve of men who desire to belong to your clientele. For it is a certain spark of wisdom to attach oneself to the light of virtues. And therefore I do not delay to commend the praiseworthy wish of my friend Zenodorus, and I bring him, as it were a mystagogue, into the sanctuary of your house. See to it, I beg, that the granting of his request may answer readily both to my zeal and to his own desire. Farewell.

Grievously wounded by the dart of fortune, only now do I commit words to a sorrowful letter. Nor indeed ought I to have long withheld the duty of writing, since the pain of so great a wound can be effaced by no length of time. I greet you therefore, and at the same time readily present my dearest friend Sylvanus for your commendation to your care: who, for the sake of restoring my patrimony, has undertaken the laborious necessity of traveling; and he is the more worthy of every good man's support, because we see that no edicts have expressed a designation of persons. But it is left free to the officials and record-keepers to exempt some from loss, while imposing an undue burden upon others. See, I beg, that you examine this matter both with a view to my advantage and to your own credit. For the record-keepers demand the tax of a recruit from my men, producing no documents of public authority in this regard.

Whence I have no unjust suspicion that, in order to excuse themselves or their own men, they have falsely enrolled my men as well under a fraudulent entry. And therefore it is fitting that full instruction be made known to the provincials, either by edict or by your subscription, lest the roving and unrestrained exaction of the record-keepers and curials afford them profit. Farewell.

Since your intervention both can and should fulfill the place of my presence, I am surprised that our concerns are so frequently burdened by the petitions of Amazonius. Perform, therefore, I beg, the parts befitting friendship, so that the estate, protected by your aid, may both be freed from troubles and afford us some advantage. Among the other matters which he has reported, he has earnestly begged that you separate Ursus—whom he says has long been bound to our household along with his family—from every public levy, whereby he may more easily secure what has been reported. But greater help will come from the favor of your judgment, since justice too is not lacking to his cause. For, as the matter has shown, having been deceived by an improvident precaution, he ought not to incur the penalty of rustic simplicity. Farewell.

The votive function of my house demands your assistance. For very soon, if the favor of the divinity should aid our wishes, my son shall perform the exhibition of the praetorship, for which the nobility of chariot horses must be procured. If, then, the care of absent friends carries any weight with you, I beg that from all the herds in which Spain abounds, you diligently select the choicest in breed and outstanding in speed, which my friends, sent for the purpose, may purchase at a just and fixed price. The gratitude for your kindness will remain constantly with me, if you bestow upon this business the zeal which our mutual devotion promises. Farewell.

I see that there is a contest of wits between us in a matter which reason, friendship, and time ought to have abolished. I set, therefore, a limit to our mutual complaints, lest the bitterest exchanges of letters proceed without end. The gift of the whole work of Livy, which I promised, is even now delayed by the care of correction. But I ask of you a bearer for the aforesaid gift, since my praetorian preparations have scattered my men far and wide. Farewell.

You rightly presume that I share your cares, which I, even unbidden, would claim for my own heart out of friendship. Part of your anxiety, then, is to be lessened by the coming of my daughter, whom Rome recently received, and who will soon set forth into your sight, once she has restored herself with an intervening rest. Meanwhile, concerning the swift transport of grain for our common fatherland, the straits of the granaries do not allow me to be silent to you. I beg, therefore, that with the vigor with which you are endowed, you order the grain-dealers to be urged on, prepared as they are. For the security of Rome will add greatly to your glory. Farewell.

I keep my custom, and preserve my scrupulous habits toward friends. Wherefore, having first offered the courtesy of greeting, I ask a mutual reply concerning you: and, if the memory of my instructions is still vigorous, I urge that you deign to reassure me concerning the preparation for the praetorian exhibition. For my anxiety grows day by day, since the exhibition draws near, and I am surprised that nothing has yet been produced of the garments and animals which long ago ought to have been purchased through my agents according to your valuation and specification. And since I am troubled by the delay, I have sent my notary, who, obeying your instructions and admonitions, may undertake the transport of everything, and press our agents to pay the prices which you shall have fixed, lest they seem to have avoided your presence until now for lack of money. Perform, then, at last the duties of scrupulous care, that by the example of your diligence we may be provoked to a like exchange of services. Farewell.

Leontius, an agent in affairs, pleasing to all good men both for the integrity of his life and for his practice in military service, has by his continual diligence gained my esteem as well. He is therefore rightly numbered among my friends and intimates. I place him in your hands, asking that you follow the example of my own regard for him: which I readily presume you will do. Meanwhile I cease to press frequent reminders concerning the animals to be prepared for the equipping of the games, since by that promise you have relieved me of this care. Yet I have entrusted to Leontius the office of reminder, to whom you will deign to lend an ear, if at some time, while you are occupied with public and greater matters, he should suggest to you this petition as well, by way of homely reminder. Farewell.

You have set before my eyes the entire plan of my praetorium, and a certain picture, as it were, of the builder's work; so clearly did the layout, whether still rising or already completed, appear opened before me. I forbear, therefore, for the moment, to accuse the slowness of my own men, who have lingered in the same building operations, while I am soothed by the sweetness of your page. Yet I wish that, upon rereading the Capuan itinerary, you would chide with your words the tardiness of our architect, so that you may act in place of my own displeasure: that from your rebuke he may conjecture how great a ruin, unless he attends to what has been entrusted to him, he must fear from my indignation. Farewell.

A welcome occasion has arisen for me, which might bring you the courtesy of a greeting. For since, on account of my son's praetorship, we are sending our intimates to Spain, whom we have charged with the purchase of chariot horses, it seemed fitting also to pay you the tribute of a letter, and at the same time to add a request; that you deign to select the noblest of your herds, which those sent for the purpose may purchase at a just valuation. I beg, therefore, that if any memory of my house remains with you, you deign, with the readiest kindness, to grant a thing easy for you to do, but for me most pleasant and most honorable. Farewell.

A welcome occasion brings me back to your friendship, although your intimacy ought to have been sought by me for the honor of your lineage and character. The praetorship of my son—may the word bring good fortune—must be equipped with chariot horses. Long since, through my men [lacuna] from the herds of your stock [lacuna].

Having first offered the courtesy of greeting, I add a necessary request. The exhibition of our son is at hand. For this the nobility of chariot horses must be procured. Wherefore we have sent our most trusted men to Spain, with ample funds, that they may purchase noble teams with the most careful selection. But since we fear lest the coming of winter should prevent the crossing of the horses, I beg that, should necessity require it, you order fodder to be furnished to them for three or four winter months on your estate, according to their number: that at the onset of mild weather they may arrive without hardship. Moreover I ask that you determine some aid for my men in the purchase of horses, if their inquiry should discover any outstanding in speed and breed in the city of Arles. For the occasion of a nearby purchase must be seized, should chance offer something exceptional. The memory of your kindness will remain with me continually, since your brotherly care, as I hope, will have profited our votive exhibition.

Farewell.

We are called upon for senatorial exhibitions, the necessity of which requires the purchase of chariot horses. For this reason I have sent my closest friends to Spain, that they may purchase teams from every nobility of herds. For the accomplishment of these commissions I ask your support, and I declare myself bound by the greatest obligation, if your authority should further a matter easy to accomplish. Farewell.

That our house is engaged in the preparation of the games which, God helping, my son's praetorship demands, I believe you have already learned. Since, then, I am about to send some of my men to Spain, to purchase chariot teams from every nobility of herds, I now call upon your care in favor of those passing through, that both swiftness of passage and an addition of way-stations be granted to them. This much we have touched upon for the present according to the occasion. But you will grant more, either provided by your own zeal, or learned from their suggestion. Farewell.

Another letter of mine seeks you throughout Spain. For I had supposed you were dwelling there because of the extent of your family estate. After a more steadfast report brought word that you were at leisure in your ancestral home, I gave thanks for this error, which afforded me the chance to address you again. And yet this doubling, though it ought to satisfy your feelings, does not yet satisfy mine. For I would wish so continually to honor our friendship by your letters, as never to have concealed that I cherish it constantly in my mind. I add my request. Long since commended to your thoughts, the praetorian exhibition of my son (if fortune favor the word) is now at hand. This reminds us that you should bring into the contest noble teams of four, such as could be singled out as the best from the herds of many. Let it not stand in the way of my confidence that you have exchanged Spain for a more distant abode, having been moved by me to the purchase of horses.

Only assist me with your letters. The delegation of this care to you will, I hope, avail on our behalf with our friends. Farewell.

I take great pleasure of mind whenever I receive the gift of your conversation. For in letters there is a token both of health and of affection. Moreover it is a joy to me that you promise to be present shortly. But you should hasten your return the more, since I announce that my son (should divine favor smile upon it) is to assume the praetorian fasces at the beginning of the year. Concerning this matter I have written to you more fully through my household friends, to whom I have entrusted the purchase of Spanish horses. But since the occasion urges it, I now repeat my request as well. And I beg you, that if perchance the winter's severity should delay their return, you would order them to be stabled a few months on your lands, and thence to set out to us when the spring season begins. Meanwhile the concern of your people has been set aside, whom both my presence and judicial protection defend.

For I have declared to the one bringing suit that the matter concerns me, and that my assistance in the action will not be lacking to them. I do not doubt that your excellency's people have already informed you of this. Farewell.

I perform my duty whenever I bestow upon you the courtesy of a greeting. Nor do I fail to render thanks that in turn the recompense of your letters visits me frequently. But these things ought not to be drawn out further, since a good friendship rejects such display. This I now wish to obtain from you: that you deign to assist, by letter and by decreed officer, the concern of my people, whom I have charged with purchasing racing teams of four from Spain for the equipment of the praetorian function. I beg besides that you would furnish by letter a confirmation of the horses' travel-warrants, which the illustrious Theodore has issued, lest, the judge being changed, the authority of the favor grow slack. I would press this request of yours with excessive entreaty; but with modest ears simplicity is more effective, and modesty more readily grants what is asked with confidence.

I would have you keep in mind, however, that though I am now sparing in asking, I shall be lavish afterward in rendering thanks once the favor is obtained. Farewell.

It pleases my mind that you often turn into a fault my negligence in writing to you. For it is a sign of your affection to desire in turn what you yourself provide: and yet your resolve had vowed to dissemble [lacuna]. I confess I was saddened, and the boasting of an unfulfilled kindness—fitting neither for you nor hoped for by me—grieved me. Lest, therefore, an ingenuous modesty should write back something similar, I preferred to suppress our mutual pain. For between absent friends an alternating contest of letters generally proceeds to hatred. Now I return to the practice of a simple pen, more grateful for your goodwill than answerable for the mishap. I beg you now to cease regarding my friendship, which has imposed no burden upon you, as harmful. Farewell.

You will by no right blame my silence toward you, if you consider your own. And perhaps it is more justly you who must bear the shame of this matter, you who, often sending letters to Rome on business, have passed over the duties of friendship toward us. But only the purchase of wild beasts compelled my people to pass by Aquileia. Nor does the forgetfulness of a single occasion deserve as much reproach as your praiseworthy self has drawn upon itself of envy, by neglect of me amid the constant travels of your people. But let there be pardon for each of us, though our negligence is unequal. Hereafter, both restore yourself the duty you have omitted, and grant me the means of writing back through the same persons. For it is difficult for me to inquire after those setting out from here. The office of the pen will again cease, unless your household friends undertake to carry my words back to you. Farewell.

That you hunt wild beasts, and in the winter months range the icy heights of the Apennines, I never supposed, judging by your state of health: for you seemed fonder of letters than of labors. Of these two things, the one long unknown about you, the gift of the forest revealed; the other, almost believed, the elegance of your pages confirmed. Wherefore, among the companions of Apollo and Diana, you will be counted a follower of both, although, as your writings attest, you take more delight in the glory of the hunter's art. For when you described yourself wandering through the snowy glades, you exulted in your words beyond the moderation of a letter—naturally rejoicing from the height, and still warm from the outcome of your mountain exploit. Meanwhile it would have sufficed to have sent the spoils of the Apennines. But had more been added from the heart, it might have become tedious, had not my love for you removed the surfeit. Farewell.

While you tend to the misfortunes of the provincials, and extend a saving hand to those in distress, a graver mischance has fallen upon the Apulians, from whom, on account of an empty rumor of fruitfulness, grain is being demanded—grain that both must be withdrawn from the province and will not be of use to the state. For how, with the year declining toward winter, can such crops possibly ripen in time? If, therefore, you have the means to advance your journey quickly to Campania, let me know, that I may wait for you a little while; or if some greater cause changes your plan, make that known to me at once, so that our Symmachus, who has long been idling on the Formian shore, may promptly return with me to his studies. Farewell.

I indeed wish that you might so abound in resources of private fortune that you could purchase rich estates. But I would prefer that you turn your eye and desire to new purchases without harm or injury to your friends. For I, having purchased the Postumian property by the best right, without any mention of your partnership, from its most ancient possessor, am now for the first time approached, at your prompting, to withdraw from a possession already almost of long standing. Its price is not so modest that selling it would be pleasant; therefore, though I could by law oppose you, and resist the wish of him whose affairs are in question, I nevertheless grant you this: that what silver we gave to the seller you may deign to pay to my man Eusebius, to whom the sum is known—if indeed you prefer to purchase what is ours rather than to release yours from the bond of obligation. Farewell.

What needed to be defended on behalf of your father-in-law, whose complaint stung you, you have fulfilled by being fittingly moved against Epictetus. He is barred from the forum, and has paid the price of an imprudent tongue. And, if you will believe me, he has been corrected by the retaliation of the insult. Now, considering your character and disposition, bend your will toward a placable pardon. You know the often unforeseen slips of pleaders: and when you graced the tribunals, first as advocate, afterward as judge of disputes, you often resisted holding such an error of advocacy against a man. But since now certain persons, whose own misdeeds go unpunished, have gained notoriety through the silence of my friend Epictetus, I beg that you not allow him to be mocked any longer as unfortunate rather than innocent. The most eminent gentleman, our common brother, will do whatever he learns you wish. He too will be ready to restore to him the privilege of pleading, if he receives some sign of your will.

Do you but apply a kindly disposition to my letter; and you who are a friend to the toga, whose praise has shone above others, remove this stain from the honorable order, and, being asked, pardon a man of too little caution. Farewell.

You were accustomed formerly, when I presided over the tribunals, to commend newcomers of the forum to the courts: a duty which, now that our positions are reversed, I have taken up, in that I introduce candidates for pleading to your instruction. In this matter you must needs follow my example: that with the same readiness with which I frequently admitted those offered by you, you may receive with equal scruple those brought forward under my sponsorship. Farewell.

I love the followers of letters, not because I have any kinship with such pursuits, but because the profession of the good arts delights, like beauty lodged even in another's body. Rightly, having come to know Valentinianus by our first meeting, I thought it fitting to follow up my acquaintance with letters: that my word might open for him the first door to you, and his own life and learning might win a fuller friendship. Farewell.

It is a pious care that is shown to the children of friends: especially if the intimacy conferred upon the elders is increased by the merits of their descendants. The foregoing sentiment applies to the present matter. For I did not hold Lampadius, a most illustrious man, of concern to myself in the manner of the fickle and fragile affection common to many; but I regard those born of him, and striving toward their father's goods, with an affection prolonged toward them. These I entrust to you, to be vindicated from every injury. I beg that you, as a just arbiter, will fulfill my part in this, should occasion require. The obtaining of this favor will promote much toward your praise, and toward my gratitude. Farewell.

We have lost many exchanges of courtesy between us through delay in writing. I will not allow our shared fault to be prolonged further. I therefore take upon myself the earlier part of this pious duty: and even if you should put off returning the words, I will not change my resolve. It will be for your own deliberation how long the reply is delayed: only remember that a swift return of favor shows the marks of goodwill, a late one those of mere necessity. I think I have said enough about renewing the exchange of letters. Next, my speech ought to bring some benefit to Probus, the bearer. For he is my friend, and worthy of your patronage: if you look upon him with a kindly countenance, he will rejoice that his fortunes have grown. Farewell.

Though you keep silent, and pretend not to answer my greeting, you will never move me from my dutiful attention. I shall someday manage to make you abandon this obstinacy. Meanwhile, though I have not yet recovered confidence in you, I venture upon a bold favor. For I am eager to commend to you the bearer of this letter, a young man of thorough seriousness, tested by me through honorable proofs, and not untried (if I judge rightly) by your own estimation; since, secure in his life and former military service, he has never shrunk from the scrutiny of his superiors. But see to it that the man is only moderately known by you: it is not right, if you grant anything to our friendship, that after my testimony he should come to you as though a new acquaintance. Farewell.

I am anxious in mind until news of your health reaches me. For with your strength still weak you have added the labor of a journey, nor can I be content, on this matter, with the reports of travelers, since greater affection has often taken uncertain rumors for true. I long, therefore, for a letter, whose reliability may bring me sure assurance concerning you. If you yourself wish to know anything of my doings, you will learn it from the bearer of this letter. For he is most closely bound to me on account of the integrity of his life, and worthy, I attest, to be diligently numbered among the attendants of your household. Farewell.

Antistianus, a man of our own order, long ago won my favor for the uprightness of his life, and is dear to me for his honorable services. That I assert this from truth rather than in his favor, the nature of his present desire shows. For having long discharged the defense of his own city, he now desires only to attain the haven of private quiet. This would make him commendable to you even without my intervention. For, in keeping with your virtue, you are accustomed to esteem those who desire leisure and know not how to seek advancement by ambition. Asked, then, and entreated by my letter, deign to grant the longed-for rest to one who desires to be free of office. Nor will there be lacking someone to be put in his place, since your choice may easily single out, from so great a number of the leading men, one equal in fidelity and diligence. Farewell.

My brother Nicias, to be numbered among the foremost philosophers, has aroused in me a longing for your friendship, after he made known by letter that you had betrothed your daughter to him by a faithful pledge. This is a testimony that sound judgment resides in you: and that on this account all good men ought of their own accord to seek your intimacy. For such a choice attests an approving mind. Wherefore I add a spur to your excellent resolve, and urge you, with the gods' help, to gain as soon as possible so highly praised a son-in-law. His accession will both win you the favor of very many, and add the honor of the connection. Farewell.

The principle of justice indeed must always be treated seriously. But toward noble and reputable persons there ought to be more moderation, so that judgment may be seen in the exercise of discretion. I say this beforehand, that I may commend my intervention by way of a general principle. The nature of the present request is as follows. The fields of my sister Italica, an illustrious woman, having been deprived of their tenants, and worn out by the burden of public duties, must be relieved by judicial authority. I have promised this help on the basis of your fairness of mind. For there is a sure presumption regarding the disposition of good men. Fulfill, then, my pledge, if I am dear to you, and grant with ready assent whatever is advantageous to the affairs and accounts of the absent lady, imputing to my gratitude whatever favor you bestow upon her. Farewell.

I ought not to be silent while he is traveling who is yours: since the tie soon to exist between you persuades me that a like diligence should be shown by me toward each of you. I therefore convey to you a greeting by letter, and urge that you make the most devoted man Ticianus, and my very good friend, possessed as soon as possible of the connection already mentioned. Farewell.

The fruit of labor is to please one's betters, and to earn the palm of judgment through diligence and integrity. Wherefore Benignus, a distinguished man, my son, having carried out the business of the grain-supply with watchful mind and clean hands, expects from you no reward but that of just affection. His bodily weakness bears witness to his sleepless cares. For he brought back from Sardinia nothing but a good conscience and poor health; and he brought to the granaries only as much grain as the fortune of that year had granted to that province. No adverse rumor concerning him, no complaint, though matters are always ready to be scrutinized. The richest reward of all these things is if he be judged worthy of your friendship. This does not seem difficult to obtain for me, since it is necessary that you take delight in the honesty of those whose choice has not deceived you. Farewell.

It is a matter of conscience rather than of envy, when one demands the keeping of faith in agreements. Do not, therefore, think that it was reported to me as a matter for blame, that you hold in hesitant suspension the marriage of your daughter, agreed upon with Herculius, my very dear friend. But he wished to bring me also to join the others whom he knows to have been either helpers or witnesses of the marriage sought from you, so that, urged by a new advocate, he might hasten the vows long held in suspense. Let the constancy of your promises stand firm, I beg you, nor let a change of will disfigure senatorial good faith. Let also the addition of my petition on his behalf be of profit to the pact already agreed: you will not deny, without some affront, what has already been settled, since you ought readily to have granted us even things unasked.

Certainly such is the modesty of the man, such his standing in the Roman forum, that as much honor as you conferred on him, so much distinction you will gain from him as a son-in-law. I would pursue at length his praises and the ornaments of his life, if you seemed to be admitting some unknown man as good. But since the condition long since accepted plainly proves to you that his good qualities are already known, I ought not to prolong the praise of one whom the compact you have undertaken already declares approved to you. Farewell.

Disarius, professor of medicine, followed your father, a man of holy memory and illustrious rank, into Gaul in hope of greater advantage. And because he had decided to remain attached to him, he sent ahead some of his Aquitanian property. Now, contrary to the wish of all good men, deprived by the death of so great a man, he desires, as his father attests, to retrace his steps to his own people. Assist, I beg you, the dutiful wish of the young man; and order to be sent back speedily what you have earnestly promised to restore to him, in keeping with the faithfulness ingrained in your character, lest to the wound of lost hope there be added the injury of a long journey. Farewell.

Your letter reached me while I was at leisure on the shores of Campania. I believe you have learned, by hearsay or by reading, how great is the charm of this region. Your letter surpassed the pleasures set before me. Spurning, therefore, all else that the charm of the place offered, I devoted my whole mind to reading and remembering the page, until it was fixed in memory. Would that you had dictated more. Yet, often repeated, it served me as if it were many. Hereafter, produce more sparingly what springs from the abundance of your talent, lest your voluntary frugality confine even me, whose style is meager, to too narrow a space. As for the rest, we again put Aurelius into your hands—not because the earlier commendation was ineffective, but so that repetition too may bear witness to his merit and to my concern. Farewell.

Whoever asks of us letters of commendation for himself bestows a favor rather than receives one, as he thinks. For to me the cultivation of friendship is of older standing than the obtaining of protection for them. Repay, then, the reward of this ready service to the one who returns you writing, and reward the man according to the modesty of his fortune. It is in your right to deem me too worthy of the honor of mutual service. For I do not practice a usury of words, so as to demand payment of you. It would be grievous for you to be reduced to the laws of debt, you who have often surpassed me in voluntary services. Farewell.

I do not doubt that you have concern for good men. For your character must needs rejoice in association with like virtues. If, then, you grant me anything, I beg you, embrace the friendship of my lord and son Flavianus, whom I commend to you not only with a parent's but even with a witness's fidelity. You will find in him a mind worthy of your love and of a better fortune, although the greatness of a sacred favor has met his misfortunes, and to the height of that mercy a recall has been added. Wherefore it is fitting that your familiarity should not desert one whom the imperial favor regards. Farewell.

We ought to transfer our care of friends to their descendants, lest good faith seem to have perished along with the man. The memory of Petronius, of consular rank, whose home was at Ariminum, demands of me that I defend his sons with an inherited affection. Their house is decreed to be occupied by soldiers for quartering, and unless public authority comes to their aid, it will suffer utter ruin. If, then, you will grant anything to my intervention, by sending threatening letters to the magistrates and councils of Ariminum, order that lodgers be kept away from that house, and restore to the household gods of these little ones their former security. For those who are deserted by their parents are ordered, in judgments, to have protection. Farewell.

Severus, a man of honorable standing, has enlisted me as helper in his wish and desire; and since I judged his petition to be reasonable, I could not refuse the letters he requested. The sum of the petition is this: that you promise the union of your daughter with his son—an easy matter to obtain, as the equality of the persons promises, matching in both honor and means. I expect, then, that your reply will declare that my testimony has had weight with you [lacuna]. Farewell.

You are certainly aware, among the foremost of my friends, how much refinement Lucillus, once a painter, added to my household. His son, indeed placed far away both by nature and by necessity, is troubled by unjust matters, a dispute having arisen between a certain Numerarius and Opinatus, formerly the tenant of the aforementioned owner, who turned the accounts of former times to Lucillus's loss. I ask for fairness, not favor—though by my intervention some measure of goodwill and zeal is also owed. And in the first place I request that the house of a most prudent man, living far away, be kept safe through public offices and magistracies. Then, that if there is any dispute between them, it be decided by your judgment, lest, if the matter should be reserved for another judge, a recurring injury be caused to Lucillus's son. Farewell.

Quintus and Felix, curiales of Hipponium, obtained this letter from me through the intervention of eminent men. For I was bound to estimate the honesty of the men from their sponsors. It concerns friendship that the hope of those who believed me capable of obtaining this should not seem deceived. Wherefore, if their interest demands anything, be bold in kindness according to justice. For I believe such things ought to be requested as would tarnish neither the petition of the intervener nor the judgment of the grantor. Farewell.

I signify that I am well, as I would wish; I hope that fair things attend you: after this I ask what you would have done of your own spontaneous kindness—that you allow the manager of my Sicilian property, returning to the province, to proceed swiftly to his destination.

There can be no distaste in constant writing. I perform, then, toward you the duty of sending greeting, and at the same time I urge and beg you not to be reluctant to take care of my people; to whom trust must be given, should occasion require them to suggest something, and even necessity must be applied. For such is the nature of servants, that they refuse to approach those who could help them, while they fear their own fault being discovered. Farewell.

Losses of fortune ought to be passed over in silence, lest a belated consolation reopen the scar of past grief. It is more fitting, then, that I should speak with you of the most distinguished character of our son Nemesius, or rather of the fruitful harvest of his praises. You have a man most worthy to be reckoned in place of numerous offspring: him I restore into your hands; which I would have wished to do in both respects. You will judge from the cultivation of his character and learning how much a longer delay in his studies might have added to him, had our fear not had regard for a father's longing. Farewell.

I would pursue at length the merits of our common friend Eusebius, did you not already know more than I about his honesty and military service—he who now, anxious about his position, after learning that doubt had been cast upon it, has hastened to establish his claims by the reading of a public document, not by mere assertion of words. In this matter you are bidden by us to come to the aid of the litigant both as supporter and as witness to his claims: the one your friendship has promised us, the other your good faith pledges. For you recall that he was long ago transferred to the school of the Gallican palace, and we believe you were silent about this in his absence, precisely so that the suggestion might not be thought partial: now you will support the truth with greater confidence, having heard the claims of one present. Farewell.

Felix, since he said he was a devotee of your household, and asked, with the intervention of friends, for the courtesy of my commendation, I did not refuse him this familiar letter at his desire, in which I perform in the first place the duty of sending greeting to you. Then I follow up his received petition, which, if he is not yet known to you, may give him access to your patronage, or, if he is already known, an increase of it. Farewell.

It is my custom to give my support to those well known and approved, and to consider not men's persons but the merits of their lives. Since, therefore, Assellus, a member of my household, has completed his term of military service in the city garrison without reproach, I ask that, admitted into your patronage, he may rejoice both that my protection has profited him and that yours has been added to it. Farewell.

I do not refuse to intervene on behalf of just debts. For it is malice to reject an occasion for favor in matters which the very equity of the request commends. Ancient custom has decreed a fixed quantity of oil from Africa for the relief of the poverty of the people of Formiae. They ask of you a custom preserved through a long age, to which your kindness, being generous, ought to add promptness. Farewell.

I readily introduce as commendation my friend Eusebius, not a new or unknown man, but one already proven by good faith and length of service: no fault of conduct has ever tarnished him at any point in his career, but his absence—which conceals the merits of many, if it be left without the testimony of those present—is said to have brought his position into an uncertain state of fortune. Yet the singular fairness of your mind will not, I hope, allow chance to prevail against the prerogative of length of service. Both my urging, then, and his own confidence look to your judgment. I ask that, the case having been examined, you confirm the just claims of his long service, thereby granting both to us, his friends, security, and to his colleagues an honorable fellowship in the retention of an excellent man. Farewell.

To all who offer occasion for writing I repay a certain reward of commendation. Now I wish this done for the excellent man Petrucius, whom I know to have requested this letter not so much for his own commendation as out of regard for my duty: whose service I thought should be rewarded in turn. He asked for a letter, that he might be more strongly approved to you. I, on the other hand, confess I have written for this reason—that he might be rendered more acceptable to you. Farewell.

I am scarcely brought to believe that my letters, repeated so often, have brought no remedy to Leontius. For if my frequent intervention had had no force at all, my support, so often mocked, would cease to be sought. Since, then, the credibility of his complaint is doubtful to me, I wish to try to which side my doubt ought chiefly to be applied. It is in your hands, therefore, whether I ought hereafter to keep up the habit of writing, or to consult our modesty by continual silence as well. Farewell.

You indeed commend our common pledge with a father's affection. But his approved life wins for him more effectively the zeal and love of good men. You have a young man in whose fruit you should rejoice, though I know that fathers are greedy in their wishes, and think none of their sons' good qualities complete, out of a stronger desire and longing. Perhaps you think your mind is being soothed by a sweet report rather than a faithful one. But when divine favor grants you his return, you will discover in his merits the truth of my testimony. Farewell.

Ancient custom has established the observance that those who set out from home should give the first token of an exchange of letters. But I, impatient of long waiting, could not keep the order. I therefore offer you first the honor of my pen. Then I add my request, which is this: that you pretend, by your favor, to help Laurentius, a member of my household (as the interest of my house demands). Farewell.

You ought to have urged me on. But I am now reluctant to be lengthy in this complaint. And so I turn my speech to the commendation of the most devoted man Olympius, my very dear friend: and I earnestly ask you to admit him, secure in my testimony, into the inner circle of your intimacy. You will find in him such good qualities of character as the discernment of your judgment is accustomed to choose. Farewell.

The enclosed cord will show what measurements the wheel of the carriage ought to have. It remains that the whole carriage be finished skillfully and with firm joinery. If part of the price is needed for this work, which you shall write is to be given, I will order it to be paid. The generosity of your gifts ought to be more moderate. For devotion is measured by feelings of the mind rather than by gifts. Farewell.

The prices of deserted lands are demanded amid confused error. For neither the judgments [lacuna] you will establish a fixed course of future labor: for the most exalted prefecture holds it fixed and settled, that none of its merit is such that it should be subrogated to your Highness.

I am delighted both by the quiet of the province, and by the praise of your vigor. Nor do I claim anything for my own guidance, since everything that pertains to glory is owed rather to your own natural disposition. Well done, then, upon the auspices of your first honor, and press on your happy endeavors toward a more abundant glory, that you may open for yourself the door to loftier ranks, and illuminate the Roman name with the brightness of your administration. Farewell.

I am accustomed to be the first to seek the friendship of the best men. Now the decline of my fortune has brought it about that I was anticipated. Pardon, then, should be granted for the delay, not to negligence, but to my sorrow: and with a good omen the intimacy is to be joined together, to which you, favored by fortune, have granted the auspicious beginning. But although you have yourself gone before me in the order of duty and in courtesy, yet in the future you shall by no means judge me sluggish, so that the drawing together of our minds, which took its beginning at your invitation, may be increased and made frequent by my own letters. Farewell.

I should indeed have preferred to obtain your return rather than your letters. But even consolations have their place, whenever we are cheated of our wishes. I fear, however, lest you prolong your absence from the city too long. For this is what the elaborate defense of your delay threatens us with; wherefore I would have you know that no allegations of delay seem just to those who are longing for someone. Whatever excuse, then, you yourself may bring forward, will be poured, as they say, into deaf ears. These words I send meanwhile from the fourth milestone of the Latin Way, being about to make for my Laurentine estate presently. For it is customary for those who grieve to shake off the cares of the mind by a change of place. Farewell.

I would accuse you of silence, had I not seen you in your brother. He alone has furnished me both the fulfillment of duty and the image of your presence. For I have recognized in him all the good qualities which I long since approved in you. I love, then, the vein of your family; concerning which, even those of them not yet known to us already seem to us praiseworthy, by the prerogative of an excellent line. There remains for me now that customary demand for letters, which I think should neither be wholly omitted, lest you should be more remiss in tending to what you suppose is not wanted, nor pressed too greatly, lest a perpetual solicitation should rob the spontaneous courtesy of its grace. Farewell.

Although I am about to retrace my journey, and lead a like companion straightway to the countryside, I will not allow even this brief interval to be said to be empty of letters. First, that I might match the duty of your writings by an exchange of discourse. Then, that I might be understood to repay the friendship I sought with a return of gratitude. Finally, that by notice of my arrival, I might obtain from you, if you had already resolved to depart soon, a little time for staying. For these reasons I have sent a letter, as it were a herald, in advance of my own coming. But among these the chief reason for my not keeping silent was that you had first made a vow to establish our intimacy. Whence it was fitting that I take care not to incur the fault of disdain by dissembling a reply.

And yet I would rather that friendships always be begun by my own effort; so far am I from receiving sluggishly and negligently the gift of a devotion offered to me. I give thanks, then, to your good will, and I shall diligently see to it, by my own attentions, that you may believe I could be forestalled in the order of writing, but not in earnestness of spirit. Farewell.

Alexander, as the histories tell, was bitten with grievous envy, because fortune had granted to Achilles, the bravest man of his age, Homer as his herald. But my mind swells with joy, that you have adorned the prosperous outcomes of the republic with matching eloquence. Whence it has come about that to our eyes too, though we are far away, some semblance of the events has been presented. Wherefore I congratulate your fortune, which set you as spectator of favorable affairs, and your eloquence, which answered the greatness of such matters with the gravity of its style. The heavenly nod will bring it about that the most adorned storehouse of your tongue never lack material for such tidings. Farewell.

I was anxious with care before I received your letter, whether you had reached your destination after completing the journey comfortably. But when I was made certain that nothing had been diminished from your health by the labor of the journey, my mind returned to itself. Divine favor will grant that, just as we have learned that your absence has turned out as wished, so we may rejoice in your return. Farewell.

You promise your friendly effort for our publications. I understand that the effect could have answered the letters of your good will, if good fortune had extended the time of your office over the province. But although, having laid down the reins of the republic, you cannot fix a term for your promise, I nevertheless confess myself so bound to you in gratitude, as if you had accomplished what was hoped. For the mind is bound by the vow of one who favors, not by the outcome of the matter. Meanwhile I abound in joy, that your fame flourishes in all things, and I take my share in the praise you have sought. Farewell.

You have blessed our senate and the Roman forum, which, from the recollection of former times, feared to have magistrates allotted from Sicily. Come to us then, longed for, and be missed by them. And I presume it will be counted to your credit, if the imitation of a successor should benefit the province. For he is the author of the good deeds that follow, who leaves behind an example. Farewell.

I was complaining silently to myself about the silence, but a recent letter has appeased a friendly succession of it. Let us, then, return to the old custom, and cultivate our mutual regard with dutiful greetings. Farewell.

Your writings bring me a great deal of pleasure. But if you had been willing to stay a little while in Rome, your presence would have conferred on us much more than the pleasure of your discourse. I bear it, however, with even mind, that you have preferred the love of your homeland to our longing. And I hope, for the sake of visiting your son, who is now being trained in liberal studies, that your company will be granted to me more often. Meanwhile, while we are apart, you must diligently keep up the work of writing, so that my own pen too may be provoked to a reply. Farewell.

I believe you wonder that I have broken my silence while the wound of my fortune is still raw. These are my comforts, on these I feed, by these I am refreshed: although I count those things greater which are returned to me from your heart and speech. But I do not want you to demand of me, for the present, longer letters. Brief are the truces of grief, and soon, when evils dissembled for a little while return, they run back into wretched thoughts. Let your discourse, therefore, rather overflow, which will win for you the praise of preserved friendship, and will bring me the solace of my present distress. Farewell.

Would that a better cause had held you back, and we would bear the losses of your absence more easily. However that may be, you have softened the longing for you with the consolation of letters: which you will deign to keep up frequently, if any domestic necessity should still impose delay on you. Farewell.

I am delighted both by the devotion of your holy mind, and by the constancy of your correspondence. Nor do I count it a lesser benefit that you provide me with suitable means for writing. For I hope my pages can be restored to those who demand them back, who are chosen by your judgment as bearers of this office. And indeed, whatever you deign to enjoin upon me for the sake of our mutual friendship, I gladly undertake to carry out, whenever those you favor with recommendation require my effort: but if anything is accomplished either too negligently or too late, it ought to be ascribed to the dissembling of those whom the care of reminding neglects. For the rest, so just and honorable are the things you yourself for the most part delegate, that the execution of praiseworthy letters is to be sought by me on either account. Farewell.

I confess I long desired your letters, whose arrival most fully satisfied my expectation. Above all, however, I rejoiced that you reported you were faring according to your wish. Then, that you gave, as a pledge, the promise of your coming. And since I presume that you rejoice with me in mutual affection concerning my affairs, I inform you that, after the great dangers which I alone endured amid the turmoil of our common homeland, I have returned to a good state. It remains that the joy hoped for should come to us for the fullness of our prosperity; which you promised me by your return. Farewell.

I would give abundant honor in writing to your fruits, if I were able. Now, beset by pains in all my limbs, I set aside the praise of your woodlands. Your frequent kindness will bring it about that we often celebrate on other occasions, in the Marsian country, the Good Things of the Phaeacians transplanted there. Farewell.

I was resting in the country with my parents, so that I might shut out, by the coolness of my Praenestine retreat, the blaze of the scorching summer. There your letter found me, which, in expectation of more favorable news, I received at first with joy. For up to this point you had cheered me with no report of yourself. But when I had anxiously read through all the troubles you endured because of the Po, accusing your native river, whose turbid course and treacherous current you have experienced, I gave thanks for this preservation of yours to the gods who brought it about, and to Good Fortune. Wherefore I am content with this belated exhibition of the duty of writing, whose long cessation I might have blamed, given your good fortune. For it came about, by that scruple which was owed, that I learned of your deliverance before I learned of your danger.

Wherefore this care will remain with the gods who kept you safe, that they may continue to dwell long upon their kindnesses, and grant you, for your merit, a generous span of years, so that old age may take away nothing of your vigor. Meanwhile, since a pleasant retreat and sweet quiet embrace you, I beg you to deign to take up the care of speaking with us more often. You will add somewhat more to the recovery of your body, if you lighten your journeying either by sending letters or by receiving them in turn. Certainly nothing will be dearer to us than to read you, since it does not fall to us meanwhile to hear the charms of your own speech. Farewell.

What our comic poet says: “I never come away from you but that I depart the more learned,” I may rightly recall concerning your letters, which are often patched together with many witty sayings and, more often still, with verses. As now your letter, breathing the Platonic nectar, what a gift it has given me! For unless I were proven to you as belonging to the good party, you would never have thought me worthy to be given a share of the Attic Muses. Wherefore gird yourself frequently for a work of this kind, and diligently persevere in the care of friendship, since the exchange of our duty commends this task to you. Farewell.

It is a sign of friendly good will, that, having attained the most ample consulship, you have granted me knowledge and fellowship in so great a joy. Wherefore the rich praise of this gift is yours with me: since you are so confident of my spirit, that you know we can rejoice at your prosperous affairs. What of the fact that it was also a consular act, to spread more widely the news of your own honor? For joys of which few partake are narrow indeed. Then too, you have made the kindness of the eternal Prince himself more celebrated and more adorned, to whom, under the occasion of such letters, you seem to have given thanks before many, for how kindly he takes notice of duties done. See to it that you continue this favor with the constancy of your writing. Farewell.

You have made me the possessor of a wished-for report. For I confess this to be the rule of true friendship, that we rejoice together in each other's advantages. I congratulate you, then, both for the sake of our friendship, and for the sake of the fame of the times, which the fairness of a recent judgment has vindicated for eternal glory. You have performed the duty of an excellent citizen, with much labor and unceasing anxiety. But let it not repent you. Virtue shines forth in harder tasks, and spurns an easy downhill path, and with the greatest sweat strives toward the steep heights of praise. Add to this that you act in the presence of a most valiant Prince, and enjoy without satiety the public good: a thing which not only compensates for the labor, but even commends it. And further, what a thing it is, that in a cause where you struggled against the uncertainty not only of your own fortune, you owe the gratitude for your victory to none of us?

I would say more; but I seem to myself to have said enough for the present. Now, if it is in your power, I would rather that you hasten back at once. If there is any delay, I beg you to reply. Farewell.

The highest praise and solid gratitude are yours with me, since you strive, through the cultivation of friendship, to honor me with the distinction of your letters. But the part of your letter which assigned praise to me for eloquence, though it be exceedingly pleasant, is nonetheless less true. I do not dare to write: “You lie, and you deceive,” when you proclaim these things of me, but rather this: “I know that you are deceived by love.” Would you call anyone eloquent, a man of the first rank in speaking, whose oratory has patrician dignity? Cease, then, from flattering words, smeared with rouge, and prepared for the sake of pleasing. It may perhaps suit our friendship, that you should wish me to appear such to others; yet it is not becoming to my modesty, that you should persuade me myself that I am such. Farewell.

Long ago the cultivation of your character, the fame of your letters, made you desirable to me: but for a long time, through modesty, I put off the duty of writing, lest, being placed at court, I should seem to be courting favor. This disease is so often affected that men careful of their reputation blush for the faults of others. Now the cause of my hesitation is removed, since you have deigned to greet me first. Kindly invited, I shall enter the open doors of your friendship, and I shall strive to make up for the modest delays of my silence with more frequent pages. Only do you, with good indulgence, receive the service of a poor tongue, and for a little while lay aside the judgment of an imperial master. You have indeed indicated that you have read some of my writings. I ask for the same patience. I shall not be new to you, nor shall I fear an untried judge. You have learned to bear all that is mine.

There has been added to us, moreover, a familiarity which makes you a more equitable judge toward me. For friendship is gracious; it is changed from a severe examination into gentler feelings by affection. What if I, laying aside the fear of a poor talent, promise you frequent letters? See; when else may you hope for more from so generous a storehouse? I must confess, my friend: I long for draughts of Gallic eloquence, not because Latin eloquence has been surpassed within these seven hills, but because an old man, a foster child of the Garonne, once instilled the precepts of rhetoric into my breast. I have, through a teacher, a rightful kinship with your schools. Whatever is in me—and I know how little it is—I owe to your sky. Water me, then, again from those Muses which first gave me the milk of the liberal arts. And if anything in my writings offends you, once the hearer of your fellow-countryman, either protect me with silence, or instruct me anew yourself. Farewell.

I find fault with your letter, which, wrongly credulous, I thought would bring healing to my longing for you. But when read through, it brought before my eyes torches that burned more fiercely. For it flowed with much honey of eloquence, which I grieve has departed with you. And so, moved by the taste of so small a reading, I received a sadder sense of the loss. Amid this another thought occurred: that it would be more bitter still if you were silent. Wherefore the harder condition turned me to the choice of the former. I ask, therefore, that you write. But make the intervals between your letters shorter. Let them come to me more often, and imitate the conversation of your presence. We shall continually enjoy that part of you which is better. But if you add anything of more extended care, some elaborated work of yours, it will be nearly as if you were seen delivering an oration not only at Rome, but also, with the grace you are accustomed to, in our own Athenaeum. Farewell.

I rejoice that I have returned to your care. But the author of this so sudden good work is that most distinguished young man Asterius, who, for the sake of procuring a recommendation, obtained that you should at last write. And indeed to his friendship—although found by us long ago—I owe the diligence of mind on account of the merit of his recent attentiveness. But I shall not suffer you to wait any longer for monitors, and to devote your efforts rather to the use of others than to pay the pious debt owed to our mutual affection. I do not envy those who ask for your testimonies or your favor. But the cause of friendship is stronger than that of favor. Put the letters of solicitation after the legitimate ones: let affection more often be zealous for these; let kindness sometimes furnish those. Farewell.

I ought not to have waited for your letter, by which you might give me notice of the honor received. And so I forestall your modesty with my congratulation, and I hope that continued good fortune may increase the rank rightly bestowed upon your merits. It remains that by the constancy of the pen we should sharpen the care of friendship between us, and that you should surpass in services the interruptions of your own. For truly that man is greater by his own increase whom the loftiness of a partial honor makes to stoop. Farewell.

I am accused in vain of dissimulation and silence, since, with Jupiter as witness, I do not neglect the diligence owed to you. But I think it has happened through the wickedness of my own people that letters sent to you have remained behind. I ask, therefore, that my regard for you not be judged by the infrequency of my letters. For affection is often merely simulated by dutiful services. But the sincerity of friendship demands rather the trust of the heart than the blandishments of speech. Farewell.

We have joined our pledges. And so it seems fitting that those whom we have had as sharers in an assembly, we should also honor with the gift of a sportula. We have therefore sent you two solidi to be offered, a small gift if we are judged by its worth in itself; a devout one, if by the affection of the giver. Farewell.

Certain report had promised that you would come to Rome. We had taken up, with much joy, the hope of seeing your excellence. But an unforeseen change of news has indicated that, by the pious summons of our lord and prince, you are returning for the votive celebrations. Therefore the duty of greeting, which I had hoped to render in person, I make up for by the honor of the pen, and I beg you to return a heavier debt in kind, one which will persuade me to long for frequent conversations with you, if it shows that the first ones were pleasing. Farewell.

You have given the cause of our mutual long silence on behalf of both of us. For I too confess that I have hitherto held back from the duty of writing. Defended, therefore, by your excuse, I do not labor to clear myself by letter of what is common to us both. Now that the condition of all things has been brought back to tranquility, let us resume the beloved studies we had set aside. For it will finally be proven to have been merely a matter of the times that the pen was long quiet between us, if, the opportunity restored, frequent correspondence renews our mutual regard.

Even though you have held back from writing, I ought not to be an imitator of the example. I therefore renew a generous greeting, and I do not despair that the duties which should have been begun by you may at least be returned to me. Farewell.

Envy is wont to grumble against good things, as now it has stolen from me the joy I had hoped for in your presence. Thus far has envy bent its strength toward the damage of our common wish. I shall be content in this, that it has cheated me of the expectation of your arrival. May it allow you yourself to remain safe, and at last return to favor with both of us. It will be as good as a benefit if the pleasure of your security should fall to me. Farewell.

Having received news of my arrival, of which report could not have kept silent in your presence, I waited for you either to write first, or, what would be more welcome, to come yourself to Formiae. But since your dissimulation, or your occupation, denied me both, I gladly step into your part myself, and I beg you either to deign to grant me a visit from you, or, if something prevents it, at least to answer with a letter of greeting.

I love your letters, but I await your presence, which the reckoning of the days promises me. The hope of your arrival does not allow me to write more. But what I now withhold from the letter, we shall repay in conversation when present. Farewell.

It is pleasing to me that you deign to bestow the most ready zeal upon our affair, and that you show yourself mindful of me by the constancy of your letters. Hence it comes about that our own care answers to your services. I gladly, therefore, return the conversation. And although you bring a spontaneous willingness to help my people, I add nonetheless the encouragement of a request, that the services you would offer of your own accord, you may, urged on, heap up further. Farewell.

Your complaint about the rarity of my letters is more a mark of devotion than just. For though it proceeds from love, it does not, however, have fairness on its side. Now, however, the journey being completed, I promise that the past deficiencies of my duty shall be made good by frequent letters from me.

While you ask for a favor, you have already granted one. For more has been gained by me from your friendship than has been sought by you from my defense. I shall therefore claim nothing to my own credit, since I owe so much to yours. Yet a gift of this kind can still be increased by constancy of writing, so that willingness may crown the familiarity between us, which now seems to have been begun by necessity. Farewell.

With all our strength we must help the incorporated men of our common fatherland, especially the contractors of the Salt Works, who carry on the baths by supplying wood. Many are in debt to them: and unless judicial vigor compels payment, the continuance of the hardship will provoke a public complaint. Wherefore I ask that, among the other things which Rome promises herself from your zeal, you claim also this part for your diligence.

We confess that what we have sent is small, but the honor due a parent is measured rather by devotion than by the bulk of the gift. Yet this very slight offering will carry more grace to you, if your reverence receives it, drawn from me for its own use.

The contractors of the salt works must be helped, who serve the splendor and utility of our common fatherland. You will deign, therefore, having heard their complaints, to render to those who approach you justice both useful to the city and consonant with your own character. Farewell.

On behalf of our children, joined by God's help, we have sent you a wedding gift of two solidi; and if you should receive it with ready favor, you will give proof that all the festivities of friends are held in common. Farewell.

At the wedding of my son I would indeed have wished you too to be present among my chief friends. But since your long absence denied me the service I desired, I have sent a gift of two solidi, so that I might testify, by a votive offering, that your memory flourishes with me. It is indeed a small gift, if judged by its worth in itself; a devout one, if weighed by affection. Farewell.

All things that are bandied about without an author are uncertain. But I do not allow anything to be permitted to rumor concerning the reputation of a sacred virgin. Wherefore I am reminded, by the duty of a pontiff and the good faith of a senator, to bring forward what I have learned. You are said to wish to leave the seclusion of the Vestals before the years prescribed by law. I do not yet believe the rumor, but I await the confirmation of your own voice, which may either acknowledge or reject the uncertainty of the report. Farewell.

At last you have deigned to inform me for certain of your doings, which, having read and gone through, I rejoiced over your life and innocence before Justus. I see that the others have lacked diligence in writing back, whom you will deign to spur on to render thanks, that I may understand, provoked by an exchange, that my letters will not afterward be a source of tedium to them. Farewell.

The judgment of others is indeed to be regarded by you, whose place it is to judge concerning the fathers. My own slenderness of talent marvels even at small things. Wherefore I would have you believe that no honor accrues to you from my testimony. For although it is an old saying that it is praise to be praised by a praised man, yet my own mediocrity does little to help the brightness of your fame. But since your wish must be complied with, I shall set forth, being bidden, what certain persons in the middle rank feel about your orations. I am nearly bound to accuse you of grudging our age, all too sparingly, the fame of a Ciceronian style. You will answer that you have devoted all your effort to the composition of history. Forgive my greediness, if I long for both. For you have polished your senatorial pleadings and the monuments of Roman history with equal brilliance and gravity, so that I might plainly call you, in the Homeric phrase, περιδέξιον, that is, ambidextrous.

Go on, then, I beg, and strive to leave this gift to posterity, that what pleased before, divided among several authors, may now be praised united in you alone. Farewell.

The springs, and the difficulty of conducting water, we ought to reckon among Herculean labors. [lacuna] Naples has now taken up, its seat having changed. Whence, after a brief interval of days, I shall not delay to pass over to Capua for the sake of my longing for you.

When now the time of the December calends was drawing near, letters were delivered to me telling that you had earned the yearly consular robe. You may believe that from this circumstance the state of my mind glowed with much joy. First, because it is so ordained by nature, that all judge an honor conferred upon a worthy man to be conferred upon themselves as well. Then, because an honor, long rare and all too difficult for the toga and for our order, at last regards the foremost man of the civic party. Lastly, because you have joined our friendship—not yet begun by other services—by a ready summons. Do you see how plausible are the causes of my joy? But I fear you may put little trust in them, since, though summoned, I offer excuses, although a just reason cannot offend a wise man. For by what means, called to the first auspices of your fasces, could I in a few days reach the distant regions of Gaul?

Set aside the preparation for a journey, consider the hindrance of winter, the failure of the public post, and the shortness of the wintry daylight. Would not my labor have been in vain before the calends of January, or my arrival afterward all the more shameless? Pronounce judgment on this, I beg you, with an even mind, and deign to be a good advocate for our friendship. Interpret with that spirit what I rightly add to what you asked; and do not abandon your purpose. For he alone is believed to have kindly invited, who is not hurt by an excuse. Farewell.

You have bound me with much gratitude, and while I am not yet able to discharge my debt for your former services, I again ask for something more to owe. The most distinguished consul has bidden me to be present at the auspices of his honor, to whose letter your own request has also been added. This, as it is honorable for one who is to come, is likewise very burdensome for one who must excuse himself. But your fairness will relieve my modesty by the ease of the truth. Strive that he may be appeased, since a sad mishap concerning my brother excuses me. For it is base and unbearable, with a shocked mind and a sorrowful countenance, to approach joyful gatherings. I recognize what befits fortune, since he deals too defiantly with it, who, having received a wound, at once dissembles his misery. If I put forward things just, necessary, and true, cause, I beg you, that as ready a pardon may forgive my absence as the good affection which bade me to press on demanded of me.

Farewell.

Rightly does Cæcilius the comic poet say: Man is a god to man, if he but know his duty. This sentiment, I would say, applies to you, who have bestowed watchful care upon our affairs. Hence memory dwells in my breast, and praise upon my lips. Nor does the glory of your deed and zeal flourish only for the present, but, as my mind divines, it will thrive through the ages. A longer speech of thanksgiving would even now be fitting, did I not fear that I might seem to have discharged the whole debt at once. He is impatient of a benefit received who hastens to be freed from its bond; nor does he seem to accept a friend's mutual service as a friend, if he blushes at the delay of gratitude. My own disposition is otherwise. I hasten to pay off the interest of money; but the exchange of services I long to owe for a long time. Farewell.

You advise me to bear with an equal mind either the wicked deeds of rivals, or the foul decrees of the ungrateful. The character of your counsel suits my pursuits and disposition. For no one's malice is so violent as to be worthy of my agitation. Should I take it ill, I who know that the monuments of the Marcelli were removed under the praetorship of Verres, and that envious hands did not in the least spare the trophies of Marius? The fruit and reckoning of virtue lie in conscience alone. I care nothing for statues and the false public inscriptions of titles. They deceive the eyes of provincials, but they have fallen from men's minds.

But if any honor of public testimony ought to be sought by me, I should be content with your judgment and that of men like you—after the example of the lyre-player who, indignant at the crowd of onlookers, sang for himself and the Muses; or according to the philosopher Heraclitus, who reckoned the highest praise to be pleasing to one man alone, if that one who approved were the best. Wherefore be assured of my patience, and rejoice with me that I alone torment the hearts of the envious, while others, to whom statues too have somehow been granted, have nothing to be envied for. Farewell.

I am as well as my sick spirit allows. And would that the laws were as well as I, whose soundness is for the most part corrupted by those very men to whom their care is entrusted. I shall not go further, since my brother Buleforus can unfold this riddle. To him, as my friendship is dear, so is my complaint well known. When he has made you aware of my grief, I trust that with such a helper the laws will return to our courts. Farewell.

You had previously reproached me about the bears which my son's quaestorship did not employ. I was stung by the mention of an unfulfilled benefit, of which you ought not to have accused a friend not master of the matter. But you, as our most excellent common brother Brotadius reports, even demand payment for a thing neither hoped for nor delivered. It amuses me more, believe me, that the demand has shifted from modesty to money. For it is less grievous to seem a debtor than to seem ungrateful. It is therefore your choice to set a price on the bears which you say were lost by shipwreck out of season. You have it in your power to reckon how much you ought to value the kindness of an ineffectual vow. Only let our friendship remain, and let no fortune have any claim upon it. Reckon the sum as a loss: I shall not subtract my money because of your ship's misfortunes. Farewell.

Your guest Faustinus has been received into fellowship by the most eminent Senate; so ancient among us is the standing of your testimony, that to delay what you wish would be tantamount to an injury. Let him therefore credit to you the goodwill of the whole order. For as he owes to the sacred favor the attainment of his rank, so he owes to you the swiftness of our decree. Farewell.

Most of us believed that you had come to Milan at the consul's summons; others claimed that you had settled in Gaul. Amid these varied opinions, I hesitated as to where the quaestor's gifts should be sent. After the arrival of your household gave me the occasion to discharge my duty, I entrusted to Clarentius, whose tested fidelity I knew, the usual gifts to be delivered. You will not, I think, spurn the offering of diptychs and gifts of departure. For it is no burden to your modesty to accept solemn and votive tokens. Since these are offered to friendship, it belongs to the confession of affection that the mind of the recipient should acknowledge them as owed to itself. Farewell.

Passing often through Ariminum, I learned by your instruction to honor friends with small gifts. Wherefore, trained by your example, I repay rather than merely offer things useful for need; and unless you receive them with ready favor, you will seem to be reproaching my liberality for the gifts so often accepted. Farewell.

You believed the matter easy and downhill for me, in which I claim no exertion of effort on my part. For as soon as your letter reached the honorable Faustus, my word prevailed that he should summon from Epirus the slave in question for examination, and he by no means opposed the request. I hope therefore that at his summons the man will shortly be present, whom the private dispute may assign to one or the other of you. But enough words on this matter. I wish to ask you to enrich us from time to time with the honor of your letters, and not to abandon, at friendship's urging, what you have now done under the compulsion of necessity. Farewell.

I had indeed presumed that your justice would stand by the sincere conduct of my brother Magnillus. But having heard reliable report of the matter, which the talk of newcomers made known to us all, I rejoiced greatly that fortune granted him so fair a judge. I give thanks, therefore, for the security of my friend, whose most innocent life you have approved by the testimony of your verdict. And I hope that, in consideration of you, the remaining troubles of his misfortune will shortly be removed. And so, that you may more readily take up the part of the equity innate in you, I come as a petitioner; ever mindful of so great a benefit, if full security should at last look upon him whom you have deigned steadfastly to defend. Farewell.

I used formerly to take the greatest pleasure from your letters; now you darken the mind of the reader with tearful complaint. Where is that resolve which fortified you, both by nature's gift and by the reading of the ancients, against all the darts of fortune? Take up a patience worthy of a man, and cease to lament what cannot be changed. All else should seem lighter to you after a wicked son-in-law. But why do you remain idle and inactive, and, neglecting your patrimony, nourish an idle grief? Let the remnants of your estate be your concern, which the criminal invader left drained and torn; lest, amid these public necessities, you be unable to sustain what you have recovered, having before neglected and despised it. Farewell.

Though you confess you were compelled to write, I nonetheless count it no less pleasing to me that you deigned to honor me with your pen, than if you had done so of your own accord. But you see who was the instigator of so great a gift. From that letter of yours came to me not only the honor of joy, but profit as well. For I learned that the security of the city is reviving through the grain supply. I understood also that Faustus, when he first examined your case, showed himself a fair judge, and that, your allegations having been brought forward, the reckoning of the records was established. For the rest, which you mention concerning later ages, I think was wrung from him against his will, and we ought to hope that he will prove in what remains such an arbiter as the first hearing showed him to be.

I, however, for the encouragement of that justice which I think owed to your merits, have sent a private letter, which, should occasion require it, you will see brought into his hands. For the condition of the times permits no other kind of remedy to be applied. I wish you to know (and you ought of your own accord, for the sake of our friendship, to perceive it) that my concern for you needs no reminder, but that nothing more can be done than that our petition should win over the mind of the arbiter toward you. Farewell.

We are preparing the praetorian games, whose splendor requires foreign animals, so that the Roman exhibition may shine with a new display. I ask, therefore, that through your effort addaces and pygargi be procured for me, of which supply the frontier neighboring you provides abundance. Deign, I beg you, to bind our friendship with this votive pledge. I shall not fail to repay the exchange, should your own need require anything of me. Farewell.

For a long time now your coming has promised me hope. Yet even now you ask for an exchange of letters, and in a manner threaten a prolonged absence. For what does the demand for mutual solace mean, if your return is already being prepared? If, then, there is any room with you for my counsel, I urge you to revisit the city, to which both civic love and quaestorian duty call you: whose preparation, even though it has the resources of a wealthy man, still requires the diligence of the candidate. Farewell.

We have recognized, from the recent series of your letters, the affection you return to us; but we are vexed at the rarity of this gift. And therefore we urge you to seize frequently upon the token of familiar duty. Your petition concerning the inheritance of C. M. V. Aerius has seemed approvable neither to me nor to others who have care for you. For what has been left by right and by the laws cannot be alienated by petition. That this is so, our common friend Valentinianus has learned by experience, who labored greatly to extract something, if it could be done. But the outcome of his labor deserted him, justice being against him. Wherefore, if you trust me at all, remove from yourself the odium of this petition, which I wish also to be urged upon your partner. I would rather your reputation remain unblemished than that a petition of this kind be granted. That I urge these things upon you out of friendly and kind will, you will recognize by the mutual regard you have for us.

For you understand that nothing is more my concern than the good name of our kinsfolk. Farewell.

According to the custom and institution of our ancestors, the inquiry of our college has detected the unchastity of Primigenia, for a long time the Vestal priestess at Alba: which the acts of the case attest was made clear by the confessions both of her who defiled sacred chastity, and of Maximus, with whom she committed the unspeakable crime. It remains that the severity of the laws be exercised against those who have polluted the public ceremonies by an abominable crime. This action is reserved to you, following the example of a recent case. And therefore you will deign, considering the utility of the state and the laws, to avenge fittingly a crime most severely punished by every age down to this very day. Farewell.

Following the precedents of recent times, our college has brought before the most illustrious and excellent man, our brother, the Prefect of the City, a charge of unchastity against the virgin Primigenia, who had charge of the Alban rites. But since reasons are alleged in his letter—that it is not lawful for one guilty of so great a crime to enter the walls of the Eternal City; nor can he himself go to so distant a place: since the crime, where it was committed, ought to be expiated, we have seen it necessary to approach the neighboring authority, to whom the rights of the provinces have been entrusted, that against Primigenia, who has defiled the secrets of the public ceremonies, and against her corrupter Maximus, who indeed has not denied the crime, the severity always applied in such cases be exercised. You will deign, therefore, having considered the confessions which have revealed the tragedy of this unspeakable crime, to avenge the injury done to the most chaste age by the punishment of the guilty. Farewell.

This is a fitting time for us to show what you owe to the religion of our friendship. For the ordinary consulship has been conferred by the most clement princes. And therefore I entreat your care in providing all that the exhibition demands. My men will supply the prices of the animals. In this alone I desire your zeal and care, that you order what has been procured at fair prices to be forwarded as soon as possible. Farewell.

Before those to whom the reputation of the times ought to be a concern, I do not keep silent about what is just, certain and confident that no one's zeal will act against the laws. Concerning the remnants of the wine-treasury, which many earlier princes commanded successive prefects to exact, and which is largely established to have been paid into the imperial treasury, the inheritance of my father-in-law Orfitus, once prefect, and dead now for fifteen years without any agreement concerning this claim, is being assailed; on the pretext of a letter by which the deified Constantius decreed that whatever had been expended on public works should be made good by him, threatening him and his staff, as is customary, with loss under condition, should due care in exaction be lacking. But he neither neglected the duty entrusted to him, and the succeeding princes transferred what the prefecture had undertaken to later judges.

This the illustrious Valentinian, a prince memorable in every age, and the deified Gratian decreed by sacred letters, from whose ruling it is not fitting to depart. Then, since even crimes are usually terminated by death, in this case alone, contrary to the excellent custom of princes, unexpected losses are extended to posterity, and what is in part paid, and in part established as to be recovered from the governors of the provinces, is treated as though wholly outstanding. On this matter, when I had received divine instructions, I ought not to conceal the truth, since they granted a hearing of the law to those who had neither stood in the inquiry, nor received a copy of the report. For a stronger argument was added: that my wife, long since emancipated, did not, upon her father's death, claim possession of the goods, and therefore asserted by rescript that she was not bound.

I have sent, therefore, under the report, the records of the proceedings, hoping that by the help also of your religious devotion this novel precedent may be removed, especially in a case which does not legally implicate us. Let the true debtors of this claim be held liable. There exists an old declaration of the consular of Campania; there exist Acts drawn up before the governor of Etruria, by which the promised exaction of the remainder is shown. Let the innocent be spared, lest an unprecedented practice proceed against all who administer public affairs. Such justice suits your age, whose reputation ought to be adorned by your counsels. Farewell.

My cause of prayer deserves the support of your illustrious spirit. The praetorship, with God's help, awaits our house, in which both the examples of others urge me, and my own eagerness impels me, to exhibit to the citizens crocodiles and many other foreign things. Wherefore deign kindly to take my friend Cyriacus into your care, that he may advance the matters indicated. You shall have hereafter a debtor not unmindful of so great a favor. Farewell.

That you write is a mark of voluntary kindness; that you write late, of your cares. But we for our part attest the devotion owed to your merits, and the leisure of our pen through its constant assiduity. Bid our Euscius, beset as he is with domestic affairs, be brought to your service, and entrust to his own diligent care those matters concerning the arrangement of the exhibition of games which you have brought to my notice.

I owe the largess of my consulship both to our friendship and to your honor. This I have sent to you in a single solidus, praying that you receive with kindly spirit these solemn first-offerings of my office. Farewell.