The Letters of Symmachus, Book V

You confer upon me an abundant blessing, whenever you gift our friendship with a token of your well-being. Therefore I entreat the gods to prosper you for such great devotion toward us. As for the exchange of letters, I gladly bestow equal diligence, so that you may be incited more readily to your duties, since you see that with a mindful person the favor of writing does not perish. Farewell.

Probatius lately delivered to me your letter, and from it came great cause for congratulation, since I learned that all things are with you according to your wish. That you may often do this I need not urge, since spontaneous acts of duty ought not to be spurred by the goad of exhortation. Farewell.

The frequent testimony of good men concerning your holy character stirs in me such a longing that I impatiently desire your friendship. For those who are celebrated in everyone's speech, and conspicuous for the praise of their uprightness, invite even strangers into the manner of their own intimacy. If you do not spurn these tokens of my good will, repay, I beg, with conversation, that I may be delighted by the confirmation of my act; although I already hold the pledge of mutual affection. Farewell.

The truth of my friendship has been proven to you, as I believe. Hence it came about that you as consul summoned me into the company of your festivities. Let, I pray, the same trust be granted to this letter which judged us worthy of the invitation. Long I hung suspended between longing for you and concern for my only son, uncertain in my choice. Your honor urged my journey; his upbringing held out outstretched hands. At last I followed what you yourself would have done. For those duties belong to joy, these to devotion. The obeisance of many will attend your curule chair of high rank; for this one there is a vow to his father alone. Your most indulgent spirit toward your own will speak more on my behalf with you. To it I assign the part of my excuse, since matters better interpreted by affection are not to be transacted in words. Farewell.

Your consulship recalls my son Flavianus to the light. I do not know whether I ought to commend him to you, since you have been the author of my greatest joy. Preserve, therefore, I beg, the tenor of the kindness you have shown toward him, although this is to be hoped for from your constancy rather than demanded. For the good faith of voluntary love is not called into doubt. Farewell

You yourself provided the bearer of this reply. I confess I owe you gratitude on a double account. For from you came the one who delivered the letter, and through you the one who brought back the reply. Let such an exchange of good offices, I pray, remain between us, and among your other praises let the title of unfailing devotion toward your friends be reckoned. Farewell.

I rejoice that the first-fruits of your conversation have fallen to me, and I earnestly request that this most kind beginning not be abandoned by devoted care. For by such nourishments especially the cultivation of friendships grows. When I wrote this, my health was standing me in good stead. This token of it I have judged should be conveyed to your singular nobility, so that your mutual affection may repay me with knowledge of your own well-being. Farewell.

I am wary of entrusting my writings to your eloquence; but I am no less careful not to deny your love anything of mine. So I have sent two short speeches lately published by me. One of them held the candidate resisting the urban office; the other took its subject matter from a censure long since disapproved by decree of the senate. But since the matter had been decided, I extended my judgment in a fuller work. Do not hold it against me as a fault, this rejection based on old-fashioned severity. For certain things, splendid only in name, do great harm in practice and experience. As reader, you will find the reasons for my opinion. Yet I wish you to approach the examination of what is said with fairness to both sides. The speech's assertion will deserve, I hope, that even you, patron of antiquity, may lend a hand to the authority of the order. Farewell.

How I fear lest I be thought to soothe your ears with flatteries! This consulship of yours is such that it seems to have doubled my own. Now the sum of my prayer has proceeded so far that you may enjoy its honors for a long time, and that the length of your life may equal the duration of your reward. For it is fitting that a sacred discharge be compensated with prolonged joy. Farewell.

I wondered that your arrival was delayed. But once the reason for the delay was disclosed, and letters foretelling that you would soon be present gave assurance, my anxiety turned into joy. Therefore, secure in your welcome, hasten, and after being refreshed by some brief interval of rest at Rome, raise up your most auspicious fasces. Our attentiveness toward you will provide whatever, being furnished as consul, you require. Farewell.

In vain did I hope for solace from my travels, since the sorrowful countenance of all grants no truce to a sick mind. Or is anyone born of so hard a nature that he can be present amid the cares of many without sharing their grief? But if you grant this to be true, believe also that I, among the anxious, have in some measure lost the very use of gladness. It remains that your letters furnish me a remedy, which I receive so gladly that no frequency of them seems likely to satisfy me. For my part, according to whatever occasions chance shall offer, I will give an example of frequent duty. For you will then prove that my letters are welcome to you, when I shall have received yours. Farewell.

For a long time now you have written nothing; it would be fair to return the like for this fault. But I judge that things one regrets ought not to be imitated: and I persuade myself that other reasons rather intervened for delaying your duty, than any sluggishness of will. And yet I fear lest this very courtesy of mine burden your conduct. For in excusing you to myself, I show that I have deserved nothing of the kind. Write, therefore, now more often and more fully, before, with God's help invoked, we set sail for the Lucanian glades. For what good is it to linger in the nearest regions, when behold, no letters are delivered, and your silence could honestly be excused only by distance? Farewell.

Your general refuge has been taken from you. For you cannot now bring forward that usual and well-worn form of defense: that you were still waiting for my letters, so as to be released by some scruple. Long ago my pen made the first move toward you, and I do not deny that the exchange has been returned; but you ought also to have rivaled my zeal afterward with a voluntary act of duty. Or do you wait for me to rebuke you with that expostulation? Do you not know how to do right unless compelled by ill will? I pass over more, and for the future I pledge you my diligence: what your scruple has held cheap, my admonition will at least repair. Farewell.

Having lately returned to Rome, I fell away from the habit of writing, not so much from laziness as from being occupied. And so I ask that you accept in good part the excuse for my past silence, and rejoice with me that by the sacred and divine judgment of our lord Theodosius I have earned the consulship, whose manifold preparation requires your diligence. But again it occurs to my wish and concerns that the time of your own honor not be shortened. Wherefore I leave it to your judgment, that if you desire to be present at the votive celebration of our house, you be released from the labor of administration. Farewell.

To your holy brother Lampadius, both for hope of advancement and for delay upon a good path, he believed that the pleading of causes would be of profit. Hence it came about that, my lord and brother the prefect having first been consulted, he was sent to the forensic camp, especially at that time when he could be trained under your assistance. Wherefore receive your pledge to be formed, instructed by your brotherly devotion in good things. Farewell.

A speech announcing a return ought to be brief. For what should one entrust to the page, when everything that is usually committed to writing ought rather to be reserved for conversation? Such is the substance of this present letter, which, if the gods favor our wish, we shall soon follow in person. Farewell.

You urge me to return, lest a violent incursion disturb the right of our estate. But I think your care advances the matter no less than my presence would. I suspect this alarm is being conscientiously exaggerated, in order to draw me back to Rome. As for me, out of weariness of the city, not merely love of leisure, I wish to be away rather longer: also because whatever is attempted with the owner removed and unconsulted will be in vain. As for counsel on how the matter should be handled, it will find the deliberations of your friends and of others dear to us. Let no one begrudge my repose, which must be prolonged, since the care of good friends is fulfilling our part. Farewell.

I always set you at the very forefront of my affections. Rightly uncertain in mind, I await word of your well-being: which, if mutual correspondence shall provide, eagerness will hasten our return. Farewell.

We prefer your arrival above all. You, by sending gifts, console our longing. I am indeed greatly delighted with what you have sent, but by this very service the losses of your absence are felt more heavily. For we would receive fuller support and adornment from a friend present in person. But now, amid the business of my candidate son's votive games and the preparations of the quaestor, I complain that we are being deprived of the fellowship of your counsels. And yet, though placed at no great distance, you do not neglect what must be done. For both the silken garments, which my men were withholding after payment of the price, and the rest of the equipment of gift-offerings, your urging has brought together.

I wish for you, then, the ready favor of God and a happy return; and at the same time I beg, if chance grants the opportunity, that you hasten to be present at our function; whose pleasure will be increased in great part, if you, so much desired, come to share in the new joy. Farewell.

The holy Aurelius could, without a letter from me, have explained whatever you might ask about me. But since a greeting delivered by bare word alone seems disdainful, I have woven writing into my commissions. I bid you hail, then, and at the same time I beg, following the memorandum in which I have written summarily what is to be prepared for the gift-giving, that you yourself, without prejudice to your judicial standing, show, as is your custom, care for your devoted brother; and that you instruct our men to supply the due expense for procuring what the exhibition demands. Farewell.

Hastening the quaestorian office of our little one, I have entrusted certain matters to be procured or provided for to our common friend Aurelius. But since he is distracted by public business and the varied press of his duties, I have sent especially our familiar Eusebius, by whose reminder your care may be roused to bring everything into effect. And because it seemed too long to embrace in the order of a letter all that is to be done, do not think it burdensome to run through the memorandum briefly signed, which I judge sufficient to spur your diligence. For entreaties ought not to be employed, since the mere wish of a friend ought to sharpen your zeal. Farewell.

You deign to acknowledge our Anastasius. For you have often seen him at my house. This acquaintance ought to be his recommendation with you, even if it were aided by no words. Now I cannot doubt that your care for him will be all the greater, since both old acquaintance and recent conversation commend him.

A familiar occasion has arisen, which might carry to you tokens of my health. For I cannot doubt that my letter must be delivered to you, which Silvanus, being attentive to my mindful regard, will present. Let this very entrustment of the office be his recommendation with you. As for the rest, I do not trouble myself that you should reply, since your mutual affection promises me the exchange of your writings. Farewell.

My mother is well, and is being brought to bear her pain with patience. Wherefore set aside this part of your cares, and compose your mind to better things. Certainly, if you have any leisure from your own affairs, deign to devote diligence to our business, so that it may prove worthwhile that in sending the tax-collector I have satisfied your letters and admonitions. Farewell.

We have, as you recall, entrusted many things to Oceanus, to be fulfilled both by letter and by memoranda; the execution of which he will not be able to manage, unless he is urged on by your impulse and admonitions. When these, with your help, have been brought to effect, I ask that you not think it burdensome to satisfy my expectation with a report in writing. Farewell.

The arrival of our friend Numidas was no small joy to me. This gladness your letter doubled. Affected then by two gifts from you, I return to you your friend along with a written greeting. Farewell.

To anticipate the order of writing was the duty proper to me. You have the glory of a hastened service, while I confess my own tardiness. And indeed I could allege something in excuse for the delay. There remained to me a very great distance of road; I preferred to make you secure regarding the completion of my journey. But in devoted zeal there is no shame in being forestalled. Love, then, one who yields to you willingly, whom this very frankness ought to win for you frequent letters; which if I do not match in equal number, my confession will again make you a reward. Farewell.

I believed a friend of mine, returning to the Bruttii, should be accompanied with a letter, so that I might discharge to you the office of greeting, and to him show some measure of commendation. I ask you, therefore, both that an exchange be rendered for my letter, and that full protection be extended to him. Farewell.

You have very recently departed from the city. But I, believing that some new gift should suit a longing for you already grown old, seized upon the duty of writing, waiting for no order, keeping no custom, which is wont to be a law for friends, that those settled abroad should render letters before receiving them. And indeed all affection is impatient even of a just and lawful delay. I have therefore broken the custom out of greater devotion than if I had wished to keep it. If this thing is pleasing to you, both pay me back the interest of conversation, and smile kindly upon the bearer of this letter. To whom, as I have been able to bestow nothing greater than this letter, so you will be able to grant nothing more than your favor. Farewell.

It was not fitting that a kinswoman of the holy philosopher Asclepiades should depart without a letter from me. For his merits demanded that one belonging to the care of so distinguished a man should be entrusted to your patronage. For this I do not think a great show of a long speech need be used, since regard for your parent grants that humanity without anyone's asking. Farewell.

It now wearies and irks me to write. For how long shall we imitate the pleasure of living speech by the mere image of the pen? What of the fact that even the public happiness and the peace of the world urge you to seek your hearth again? In this matter our brother Pontianus will come to you as a timely instigator, having taken up this office at the request of good men, so that he may set before you, delaying for a matrimonial matter, the desire of revisiting the City. Farewell.

I would not have you blame the boy for his rather delayed return. My own distraction on account of Symmachus both found no time for writing, and put off the courier's return until good hope. Now, since his danger has turned into illness, it has been permitted me to say this much to you. Divine compassion, which lends pious ears to the prayers of parents, will bring it about that soon my security may again bring you news to gladden your mind. Farewell.

The wish to set out on the journey was not lacking to me, but the slowness of the summons narrowed the time of arrival. And therefore it seemed more modest to ask pardon than to arrive after the consul's office had already been performed. Concerning this I have long since sent a most full letter both to our most clement lord the emperor, and to the others who wished me to be present; which letters even now Festus, an agens in rebus, delays by his tardiness in setting out. And because I fear that either what I have written may lie hidden, being suppressed, or be tampered with and corrupted by rivals if unsealed, it has been my counsel to send you, my lord and brother, copies of all. It will be a mark of your affection toward me to write at length about the good faith of all these matters. Let the little papers also containing domestic concerns be delivered to you, upon reading through which you may judge what the justice and reputation of good times demand.

Farewell.

Companies of learned men follow upon your departure; and as the other gymnasia of the Muses are wont to seek Attic Athens, so your journeys are accompanied by longing that draws them along. Nor is a gathering of friends burdensome, I think, to you who abound in the stipends of your office. Feed, then, the learned with the abundance of your rank, and hope that more guests, and safe ones, will come to you, now that the customary subsidies of nourishment have been withdrawn from the teachers of Roman youth. Farewell.

I learned from the reading of the letter you had recently sent that your mind was troubled, and I marveled greatly that a chance discord had suddenly arisen among the closest friends; I besought my lord and brother not to depart from his own character. But you I ask, not only in my own name but also in yours, that you show to the other good men of your acquaintance the same forbearance, and bear all that the condition of a journey abroad is wont to entail. I hope, moreover, that everything can be soothed both by the conciliation of my son Flavianus and by the blandishments of Eusebius the chief physician. Farewell.

Your letters are compressed with Spartan brevity, but they overflow with substance; and though they raise a complaint about their rarity, yet by the fullness of their dutifulness they erase the memory of what follows. But if frequent use should cultivate them, they will fill my longing without the disgust of satiety. Yet I see what stands in the way of your mind, what impedes your will. Our friend Eusebius detains you with stories and cups. When you have restored him to the care of his own gardens, I think your mind, freed from playful trifles, will be turned to serious business. Farewell.

I rejoice beyond measure that a very old debt has been rendered to your merits. For long ago you bound the Republic to yourself by your virtues; which, having obtained a prince of divine faithfulness, has in a manner procured for itself the consulship it might pay to you. To the celebration of this I would have hastened with eager vow, had not the slow delivery of the sacred diploma narrowed the interval of days. There was added the consideration of winter, which delays journeys with great cold and short hours of daylight. Yet my mind, my joy, is with you. I alone ought to grieve that chance has begrudged me so great a good. For you, both the number of those present, and the devotion of those absent, will suffice. Farewell.

We ought to be of use to friends who desire just things, especially to our brother Alexander, whom we approve by judgment and embrace with love. Although you know that he is not moved by a desire for honors, yet our common sense of shame does not allow him to lack the testimonial of military service, since the lord Valentinian Augustus of his own accord bestowed on him the rank of tribune and notary before the tyrannical uprising. I ask, therefore, that with your effort he may obtain the prerogative of the sacred testimonial. For it is easy that under so pious a governor of the Republic, the humanity of the age should overcome the misfortunes of men. Farewell.

I am wont to bear impatiently the departure of friends. But those who, having left the city, hasten to your presence, I believe will come to me. What then? Do I not, setting aside affection, envy those who will be with you? For they alone will receive the goods of your presence, of which the enjoyment ought to be common to me. Yet, such being the case, I have not unwillingly sent forth our brothers Celsus and Titianus, worthy men, certain that something of your stories and doings will return to us through their report. Whom I in turn ask that you restore in good time to the City and to their studies. For if I should conceal this request from you, I would seem to have yielded their journey abroad not to reverence for you, but to have granted it out of my own disdain. Farewell.

Since I know you to be of a placable mind, I have undertaken, on behalf of a friend, the task of asking pardon. For we are not so far astray from what is right that we should ever suspect you to be moved rashly. The distinguished man Epictetus, slipping into the manner of advocates, while he wished to please over-eagerly the party he had taken up, wounded with an incautious speech the holy Sabinus, approved by all good men. This affair is believed to have exasperated the minds of all of you to whom he is dear. And not undeservedly. The complaint of the governor has also sharpened the praetorian powers. Why say more? Epictetus has been deprived of the honor of forensic dress, a man to be preferred to many who are protected by firm patronage. Now that crowd of clients insults the accidental error of one man. That this may not long remain so, your humanity will provide. Enough has been given to correction. Now consider your own nature.

Let the cause deserve the one, but grant the other to gentleness. I know that the illustrious man, the praetorian prefect, will readily yield to this letter of yours as well. Epictetus, a distinguished man, will be indebted to you even for his own correction, whom shortly before the great impunity of wrongdoers had made reckless. Farewell.

I rejoice enough that my friend Drinnacius has pleased your judgment. For to me too very much honor accrues, whenever our opinion agrees. He will therefore enjoy the most abundant fruit of his innocence, dear to me for his honorable services, approved by you for his just dealings. Farewell.

He who entrusts his trifles and follies to one who loves him ought not to fear judgment. For whatever might be blamed on examination is commended by the devotion behind it. Rightly secure, I have sent you the little speech which I recently delivered in the senate, concerning which I think my lord, our brother Carterius, has spoken fully with you. For he was present as a hearer of our petition. And although we seem to have won the second votes of the whole order, yet in you alone we place the sum of our testimonial. Make me certain, therefore, of your opinion, and at the same time reveal to my longing what you are doing: so that what pleasure you will receive from my doings, you may repay by a mutual sharing of your own. Farewell.

You are stung by the reproach of a dissembled duty in a rather flattering letter, in which I return thanks for the conversation received, though I was thinking that those conversations are rather friendly which are freely given: but in one who replies, a necessary return is rendered rather than a spontaneous letter offered. Yet I was so affected by your recent letter that I confess I do not know whether you rendered this gift or gave it. But consider what charm your pages will have, which you will produce unprompted; since even these are quite pleasing to me, which you repay out of debt. Farewell.

You do as befits you in consoling my leisure with a steady stream of writings: since from your love I conjecture that the gift is pleasant, which has flowed from your most holy and brilliant mouth. I return the favor, then, more as a testimony of gratitude than as an equal exchange of the duty by which I recognize myself bound. But by this very fact I think myself more worthy of more frequent conversation, in that I render you this palm, as one conquered by the interest of your letters. Farewell.

Rumor had promised that you would come to our common fatherland. I was glorying in unhoped-for joy. But when, as the days passed, the rumor grew cold, I perceived that this kind of consolation remained to me, that I should return to the use and custom of writing. I perform, then, the greeting that must be spoken, and I ask your excellency to grant me your arrival in place of a letter. For there is a longed-for cause which ought to summon you, namely the quaestorian office of my son, to whose duty our common love invites you and yours. Farewell.

You write that reverence for me flourishes among all. I rejoice at such testimony, but I acknowledge that it is by your effort that my reputation flourishes thus. You are the promoter of favorable rumor for me; nor do I feel myself indebted for that favor alone. For that also which, under your presidency, proceeded to the advantage of my kinsmen, though granted to justice, is nonetheless credited to you. I cease to go on further, since in repaying kindnesses an exchange of mere words is barren. At the same time the cares which the meager subsistence of my homeland sets against my private duties are an obstacle. I shall be more talkative with you hereafter, when the restored security of the grain supply shall have revived my zeal. Farewell.

A ready commendation is owed to those well known and approved, that they may come to the notice of good men under an honorable attestation. Theodulus, a young man of sincere nobility, flourishes in the favor of many, whom it is praiseworthy to please. But he hopes that the difficulty of fortune, which embitters the course of his life, can be removed by your assistance. I ask, therefore, that you smile kindly upon his wishes, lest either my testimonial be judged as counting for nothing, or an empty outcome mock his hopes. Farewell.

I love your letters, for they always bring me some cause for congratulation. But I answer good deeds with bare speech. Yet, as the matter stands, your distinguished mind values pages as fruitful to itself equally, and therefore I persevere in watching over this effort, which I know is reckoned by you as of great worth. Meanwhile I have given thanks by letter to our lord and prince, for his kindnesses toward me, in words perhaps meager, but abundant in the affection of the mind. Which, if your excellent unanimity of spirit, and the proven faithfulness of your friendship to me, should insinuate by a pleasant and opportune reading, I shall not seem ungrateful; since the most unconquered prince will approve, as I hope, that such kindnesses have been placed with one who is mindful. Farewell.

I rejoice that Aurelius, a close friend of mine, has been numbered among your dependents, not only for his sake, whom the care of so eminent a man has undertaken to protect, but chiefly for my own, since you have held my testimonial as equivalent to judgment. There was added to this kindness a greater grace derived from your letter (although there is in it something that might offend one who loves you, for it passed by too briefly), which, though it brings me pleasure, denies me satiety. And such is the nature of good things, that you wish to enjoy them more fully, nor take anything harder than the swift passing of pleasing speech. Add, then, abundance to your letters, or, if you can, take away their sweetness. Unless you do so, I shall repay your fastidiousness, to your annoyance, with the words I am accustomed to use, and with longer pages. Farewell.

Indeed your love persuaded me to write, but the haste of one passing by, to dictate only a few words. Wherefore, content with a greeting (which, even if it does not fulfill the duty, nevertheless attests the affection), send back in turn something for us to read, and, if it is necessary, rival its brevity. For though I am desirous of your most polished speech, yet, conscious of this so narrow page, I do not dare to demand from you an abundance of words. Farewell.

I have given this page to be delivered to you by the bearer of the judicial letters, rendering the homage of a greeting to our friendship; and at the same time suggesting that it pertains to the matter of my ward, which the report will explain, that he is to be rescued from the jaws of his guardian. Nor do I labor for the assertion of justice, of which you have the chief care. But this only do I dare to ask, that as soon as possible the heavenly responses may bring strength to the judgments rendered. Farewell.

Our brother Helpidius has been called forth by longing for you no less than by your letter of counsel. Although the old bond between you promises him your love, still I think my own request will add somewhat of recommendation. Build up, I ask you, upon the old regard the new kindnesses toward a friend, so that things already perfect may yet be increased; and grant me this favor, though less willingly, that he may perceive that the merits which he has founded with you by his own services have grown through my favor. Farewell.

Whoever neglects the reputation of a friend is of slippery loyalty. Lest this fault be justly charged to me, I am solicitous even amid the injuries of others for the sake of your good name. By what law, by what public benefit has Eusebius, a most distinguished man, who is said to have earned rank among the notaries, an uncertain and untested agent, drawn out a civil suit so as to snatch away from the city court a matron in lawful possession? In this case, though a petition ought to sustain only a private action, they threaten with sacred rescripts. I ask you to consider what is fitting to be obtained from the August shrine whose oracles you speak. I speak to you with brotherly concern. The reputation of all rescripts touches upon you. What if the memory of the matter itself also concerns your good faith? You will recall—as a citizen, as a colleague—that Ampelius, a man of illustrious and renowned memory, bought a small house, which he adorned with costly ornament, beneath the Clivus Salutis.

Thirty years have whitened with age the days of that possession. His grantor was Posthuminus, grandson of Jovius, who, among the other goods of his mother Porphyria, had also obtained this house by inheritance. This Porphyria never had any dealings with Theodosius, whose estate Eusebius once obtained. Now this agent, from the Column of Moenia, known to the forum for many such tricks, shakes ancient rights with petitions, tastes the judgments of every authority begun, abandons the outcomes of suits once undertaken, renews their beginnings, accuses the Roman tribunal; he allows neither the antiquity of possession, nor the privilege of senatorial rank, nor the reputation of the prefecture to remain unshaken. To these audacities a fiscal color is applied, as though for an inquiry into movable goods owed to the divine household, which Eusebius earned. Where has this diligence lain hidden so long? By what collusion of what bureau have the public losses been concealed?

If the agent were not applying public torches to his own business, even now so many offices, so many inquisitors sought for the treasury would remain unknown. And indeed it is right that the defense of the divine household should keep a more watchful eye upon what is entrusted to it. What has movable property in common with an estate? No error of the senses, no interpretation of words, can confuse these terms. Besides, Porphyria and Posthuminus are strangers to the goods once proscribed. Much more is Ampelius, the buyer of the house, far removed from any contagion of movable property. What remains, except that your equity should judge that a private claim has no root to sustain it, over which the shadow of sacred reverence is spread as a pretext? Love for the age and your friendship have compelled me to set these things down in a letter. I would have taken care to make the same known openly to our illustrious brother Sperchius, following his character, if he had offered me any confidence of himself through letters.

But I ought not to have been the one to make the first move in exchanging letters with one of that kind. It will therefore be your choice, most excellent one, to bring to his ears what I have written. For it is fitting that what will profit the reputation of both should be corrected by the agreement of both. Farewell.

I do not wish you to weigh the character of him whom I commend by the customs of others who handle senatorial affairs. For he is sprung neither from a mediocre station nor from the lowest lot, but guards the honor of his birth with modesty. And therefore I did not think it unbecoming to follow up with the testimony of a letter one so well known to me. Nor should your singular nobility doubt his love, when you see him approved by my endorsement. And let this suffice concerning Ammonius. But I ought not to keep silent my longing for your conversation, whose desire the rarity of your writings has all the more keenly stirred. Farewell.

You have rendered me a more abundant service than I had asked. For whereas I had requested that my household be aided by you in procuring chariot horses, you increased the number already gathered by four teams given free of charge. Of these, eleven horses survived, brought through by the care of those who followed them; and not long after, part of those delivered perished. Yet fortune did not diminish the gratitude due to your kindness. For in the gifts of friends, losses of chance are not to be reckoned; rather, that sum is to be counted as received which proceeded from the giver. To you I have sent by your servant a diptych of the candidate, and as a parting gift a pound of silver in two pieces, wishing to show that your spirit was not wanting to my exhibition. Farewell.

I would have assisted your interest even without being reminded, a fact which my lord and son, my uncle by marriage, a man of respectable rank, will not fail to mention. You should remind him that, both by the custom of his own wish and in view of my request, he may deign to further your desires. Farewell.

I indeed could not be present in the Senate on the day when the son of Thalassius was exempted from the duties of our rank; but I had already strengthened the hope of future action on his behalf by no slight recommendation among friends. Yet I do not claim for myself the credit of the success obtained. The justice of the request, and your intervention, advanced what was desired. My health, long tossed about, has at last returned to calm. I write this so that, gladdened by the news of my recovery, you may return to me an equal pleasure concerning your own prosperity. Farewell.

Repetition adds much weight to our first requests. And therefore I repeat my petition concerning the exhibition of hunters, so that the doubled letters may more readily stir your diligence. The day of our public games draws near, for which the generosity of the candidate alone does not suffice, if it is set against those with richer arenas. For munificence bestowed upon the unworthy is foolish. Wherefore I beg you, by the authority of a judge and the love of a brother, to grant the choicest of the hunters; this will add much to all those things which we are preparing at eager expense for the pleasure of the citizens. Farewell.

All who desire to be helped by access to you take, I think, no vain path toward winning favor, when they rely upon my endorsement. One of these, a worthy man, Turasius, a friend of mine, who attributes to misfortune the injury of a suit brought against him, hopes for the favor of a good outcome chiefly from your assistance. Defend, then, one who asks for what is just, and extend more widely the fame of your kindness, which will grow to the greatest increase if, through you, things turn out favorably for Turasius. Farewell.

Duty demanded that I write, especially since a familiar occasion urged me on. For your man offered himself to me as a letter-bearer, and I saw that it would be the height of impiety to give him no letter at all. I wish, then, that you are well, as I report myself to be; and in turn I ask that you favor me with tokens of your good health. Farewell.

The quaestors of our order have never paid a toll on their own beasts. For it seemed grievous to our ancestors that, while men bore the burdens of senatorial rank, an excessive expense should be added. This privilege was lately granted to me, when I was arranging a gladiatorial show, more in the name of the Roman people than in my own. Now from my brother Cynegius, a most distinguished man, an ex-quaestor, a toll of one-fiftieth on white bears is being exacted, which ought to be recognized only from the dealers in bears, as being subject to trade duties. This injurious pretension awaits your correction. Resist, I beg you, the greed of the tax-farmers, and cut back the losses of your colleagues. This affair will yield you double gratitude, if you both honor the Senate with privilege and relieve the candidates with remission. Farewell.

The cause of a friend persuaded me to write. But it must be confessed that I had greater concern for your own reputation. For Minucianus, a most distinguished man, is endangered over a trifling sum of money. But no small path to praise will be opened to you, if a slander stirred up, as I hear, by forged bonds should be put to rest. It is shameful to say by what tricks the agents of the Italian treasury proceed. It is said that under the guise of a public debt, false private accounts are being alleged. The weak indeed are overcome at once by mere show; but the stronger, when they claim for themselves the protections of the law, are entangled by malicious interpretations of words, so that through fear of ill-will they submit to endure loss. But Minucianus, most distinguished man, confident in you and in the laws, wishes to remove the threats of a formal report by a hearing. Grant, then, I beg you, judges such as the imperial choice has set over the urban authorities.

For it is not fitting that a trifling debt and an eminent dignity should be summoned to a distant tribunal. I would go on further, if justice needed to be aided by many entreaties. The nature of the case will be made known by the report; and though it may sustain the error of the examiner, still it may sometimes deserve to be trusted to him without any other arbiter, at your hand. Farewell.

I ought not to be a boaster of my regard for you. Duties which spring from the debt of devotion refuse display. Rather, I have received it as a token of abundant favor, that Scipio, a most distinguished man, using you as his guide, has come into my friendship. For it is the greatest gain to seek the friendship of good men. And indeed I hope that he too will be attentive in all our affairs, once he has learned from his own people's report what our care has contributed to his business. Farewell.

The toll of the fortieth (or duty) is not rightly demanded from senatorial candidates, because the functions of our order ought not to be burdened with double hardships. I indicated this to you before, in letters sent some time ago, on behalf of Cynegius, a most distinguished man. Now a like necessity has demanded, on behalf of my son Pompeianus, a most distinguished and excellent young man, that I repeat the request. I ask, then, that you graciously extend to the sponsors of our order that kindness which is the first among your virtues, and withdraw the transport of bears from the greed of the customs-officials. The gratitude for this benefit will reach both the Senate, which is relieved of hardship, and the people, to whose pleasures immunity is thereby granted. Farewell.

The affairs of Ampelius, a man of illustrious memory, are being assailed by a private lawsuit. Do not think that our concern for them is stirred only by remembrance of a kinsman. Even strangers, unacquainted with the man, are stung by the injustice of the case. Let me touch briefly, as I am able, upon its main points and heads. Ampelius, once among the foremost of the Senate, whom you have come to know by the celebrity of his fame, purchased a small house in Rome from Posthuminus, a most distinguished man, heir of Porphyria. The origin of this contract is of just standing, almost a century old, during which the possession has gone unchallenged. Now recently a certain trickster, in the name of an agent, has raised his head, shaking an old claim on behalf of Eusebius, formerly a notary, a most distinguished man, concerning the goods once obtained of the same Theodosius, to which he falsely pretends this property was attached. There was no partnership of accounts, no joining of estates, between Theodosius and Porphyria.

The matter was begun and, by the plaintiff's own flight, ended in the city court. Now again he rekindles into flame the ashes of the affair by a surreptitious petition; and, through distrust of what is just, he draws to himself the actions of the divine household, forsooth on the pretext of an inquiry into movable goods, which have nothing in common with the property. Let the governor of the privy purse investigate these matters in due legal order; let him leave to their own judge the matter concerning the owners of the house. There are, then, two distinct causes, divided in the very terms of the matter, differing in action, unconnected in origin, separate in persons. Ampelius did not buy movable goods, nor has the treasury laid claim to the house. Why does the agent support with public force a claim invalid against another’s property? I beg you to share these things with our brother Sperchius, a most illustrious man.

He is most observant of justice, and one who would rather yield to the common right than favor his own power. For he knows that the laws are stronger than offices. I trust that, once he learns of what has been suppressed, correction, once sought, will not be lacking. Should he ask why I have not written to him about this matter, answer, I pray, that since no habit of correspondence has yet been established between us, I feared to seem to find fault from the very outset. The correction of this case will give me a happier occasion for conversing with him; the offering of thanks will make the beginning of my letters to him. I will wait no longer for him to give confidence to one who hesitates by way of address; his own sense of justice will urge him to every service. Farewell.

It belongs to youthful vigor to rouse wild beasts from the woodland glades, and to vary liberal studies with the pleasure of the forest. Thus once the tireless Marsian and the sturdy Sabine had their strength. May what is gained by our years be of profit. There is an example of this kindness among certain birds, that early age in turn provides sustenance for those growing old. But it does not yet suit my health to make use of wild flesh; nor does the necessity of restraint diminish for me the gratitude for your gift. For though abstinence from its use consults my health, still the honor of the gift has satisfied my spirit. Farewell.

That you enjoy full vigor of health, the pursuit of wild beasts attests. This, then, is the first cause of my joy concerning you, that you assist your health with rustic pleasures. The second degree of gladness is that things taken in the hunt have been deserved. For as it is given to the honor of the Divine Powers to consecrate the horns of stags, and to affix boars' tusks to thresholds; so are the offerings of the woods dedicated to the worship of friendship. Meanwhile I reject the opinion which reckons the pursuit of hunting a servile office. Let him who is to be approved only for his pen determine this; for the failings of his character do not allow that authority for the conduct of life be sought from him. I prefer that you follow country pursuits with Atillus and the exercise of your strength, rather than be led by fine words into the habits of sloth. Certainly this labor suits your years.

The reading of the young ought to be distinguished not by dice-board, or ball, nor by the Attic hoop, or Greek wrestling-schools; but by lively fatigue and the joys of innocent daring. To this, too, if my Symmachus should grow up, though he is my only son, I shall exhort him. There will one day come a time when, weighed down by years, you ought to renounce this pursuit. Then let the care of hunting rightly be reckoned a servile task. For it is a kind of servitude, if, when our strength fails, we refuse to make use of the leisure from labors which old age affords us. Farewell.

You have recommended my old judgment, you who feel the same about the charm and healthfulness of the Formian shore. Formerly your passage tasted but sparingly of its blessings. These, now known more thoroughly through your longer stay, have deserved to be loved by you with more prolonged use. I bear it ill, as one desiring you, that you live far away, and by my longing for you I betray my patience. But if perchance fortune should favor my wishes, I hope to spend with you in that bay what remains of life; so that the place may afford me health, and you the pleasure of your spirit. Farewell.

You have opened the way for me to write only too late. For it was fitting that you should have begun the first offerings of correspondence: he who departs for foreign parts ought to give the beginning to the exchange of letters. Being released, then, from the obligation of observance, I now both repay to you in turn the courtesy of greeting, and for the future, should occasion offer travelers, I pledge the constancy of familiar letters: so that it may be clear to you that it was not my fault, but your delay, that made me silent. Farewell.

I am delighted by the constancy of your correspondence, and from that gift I abundantly reap gladness. For what can be a clearer token of your spirit, or a greater solace to my longing, than that with me, day by day, the honoring of your merits should increase? For friendship which is cultivated by services is never content with any fixed limit. And therefore it is fitting that you become more prompt in offering your addresses, since you do not show yourselves forgetful in discharging the exchange. Farewell.

The son of my friend Regilianus, himself approved in view of his own good character, some time ago presented to you my letter of recommendation. And therefore he does not require the aid of a second attestation, being already known to you. It is the reasoning and custom of my own zeal that has required me to write. For it is not right that I too should abstain from such offices, although you yourself have long since ceased them. I hope indeed that what is wont to be granted freely to friendship may at least be credited to my constancy. Farewell.

When I was setting out for the nearest places to the city, I ought not to abstain from writing you a letter, so that I might discharge toward you the observance of the ancient custom. For by old institution this usage has grown common, that those who have set out on a journey should offer the first-fruits of writing. Wherefore, invited by the auspices of this familiar office, attest by continual correspondence the brotherly devotion which you always show me in your mind. Farewell.

Only on the eighth day, after struggling through many difficulties of the journey, did I greet my ancestral home. Immediately, as friendship demanded, the recollection of your instructions met me. For at my departure you had enjoined me to inquire, by faithful examination, into the matter of the most select young men Ticianus and Helpidius. Their teacher, a prudent man, and one ignorant of flattery, has asserted that in them there is a knowledge of law all too suited to every use of judicial and forensic office. Now it is for you to summon these excellent young men, whose talent, already prepared for the honors of a career, delay ought no longer to postpone. Farewell.

Those who desire honorable things must be promptly favored, so that approvable intentions may be aided even by another's effort. Wherefore I do not allow that help be denied to Felix, a most upright young man, aiming at the courts: who, since he shrank, as befits his gentle disposition, from the disputes of the urban forum, seeks to enroll himself in a quieter form of advocacy; a purpose which my encouragement also has animated. For I have pledged to his good disposition and purified character that the aid of your mind would in no wise be lacking. Therefore, being entreated and gracious, embrace him not as a deserter from another post, but as one who seeks a quieter forum: he will owe to you and your kindnesses whatever advantage of good fortune or convenience shall accrue to his office. Farewell.

To Bonosus, an excellent man, conspicuous after his service in the Palatine militia for the integrity of a double administration, the imperial instruction has entrusted the examination of the bridge and the new basilica—a task he could fulfill with fidelity and vigilance, if he alone had the right of such an inquiry. Now Cyriades, a most distinguished man, count and engineer, who formerly managed the expenses of both works, having been admitted into partnership in the examination, has often, as is said, disagreed with the investigation of Bonosus. Hence it happens that the inquiry, which could be vigorously conducted by one man, is delayed by a kind of contrived contest interposed. And therefore the honorable man Bonosus fears that it may be held against him as blame, that the outcome of so great a business still hangs in suspense. Wherefore he asks that, if there is anyone who thinks that the most distinguished Cyriades, because he formerly had charge of that work, ought also to be its examiner, this trouble be removed from him.

But if he himself seems suited to the business, let the whole sum of the inquiry pertain to him alone. Therefore, out of love for the Republic, whose interests you embrace among the chief and foremost, deign to confer with the most distinguished and illustrious lord prefect; so that, contentions being removed, the drain of such great expenses may be uncovered. For I hope it will come to pass that, new expenditures ceasing, the sum already used may suffice for the completion of both works. Farewell.

You have long been silent. But I ought not to be an imitator of such an example. Wherefore I have burst forth first into the office, and I approach you with a dutiful admonition: that you discharge, at least when provoked, the office of letters which you should have offered of your own accord to our friendship. Farewell.

You ask how I fare, or what I am doing. I answer your inquiry, which comes from affection. I am delighted by the quiet of the country. This affords me the healthfulness of the air, and food for reading. Often I feast my eyes on the cultivations which winter labor keeps busy. That your health is favorable, and that the memory of our friendship endures, I congratulate most fully. But there is no just excuse for my silence. For nothing offered itself for me to write; and at the same time, since you were occupied hearing cases, I feared to intrude, lest the talkativeness of an idle man should add a burden to your many affairs. Farewell.

I hope for your presence. For you are not accustomed to abandon your promises. But there is frequent report that praetorian letters are obstructing arrangements. Wherefore, lest I remain long uncertain in expectation, I wish to be assured by more recent writings: that I may know whether the delay is worthwhile, if you are to come, or be released from the tedium of waiting, if you are detained. Farewell.

I follow with a letter our common citizen and friend; whose good qualities, since they are known to your judgment, do not require assertion. Rightly, then, my talk about him to one who already knows is easy and brief. Yet I admonish you that he be cherished more strongly for my sake, and let him understand, by the proof of increased affection toward him, that my care for him with you thrives. Farewell.

Since I often make use of occasions for writing unknown to me, I think it a fault against friendship if I should seem to abstain from domestic matters. Willingly, then, I have given to Acrius, a most honorable man and your devotee, a letter announcing my well-being, to which I add the honor of a greeting: which alone, whether it is given, or in turn returned, fulfills the offices of familiar duty. Farewell.

It is a full office of devotion that you of your own accord anticipate a brother's wish. Shortly, then, our household men will travel to the purchase of horses along with the funds, so that from all the teams which you have written are for sale, choice may cull out those more excellent in speed and strong in breed. This care, moreover, you must undertake, that the fresh fame of the games may answer to our previous exhibitions. Above all, then, I ask this favor of you, that you weigh merit rather than number. For since a sure hope promises me abundance of horses from the Spains, those which you promise nearby ought to be gathered with more assured diligence. Farewell.

Senatorial functions summon my care toward the votive games. For the praetorship of my son, if fortune should favor the promise, the coming year awaits: for the furnishing of which we have given our friends the task of bringing horses of the most select nobility from Spain. Let them, then, make trial of your support, if they should ask any aid and favor. For it befits you, out of mutual love, to share these cares with me. Farewell.

I would myself reproach my own silence, had I ever received your letters. So you cannot blame in another what you remember committing yourself. Yet I have burst forth first into these offices, both that I might exhort you to the pursuit of writing, and that I might attend my friend with the support of testimony. For such is his industry and probity, that he rightly deserves your favor. On his behalf I come as a petitioner, presuming that our letter will avail very much with your mind. Farewell.

That you preserve my letters is a mark of your affection; which does not know how to choose what should be copied. But this pretense deceives me. For I am hurried into confidence in writing by the assurance of pleasing; and yet (if ever I come to my senses) I fear greatly lest this simplicity should fall upon some other reader, unlike yourself. Wherefore I would wish you to keep to yourself what I set down without much thought: although the same, it is said, are also preserved by my own copyists. But they do so through ignorance of judgment, which it is not fitting for you to do, skilled as you are in the Mercurial art. For the kindness of friends knows how to favor mediocre writings, but the envy of strangers knows not how to pardon. For the rest, I beg you now to come, and to increase by your presence the honor of the festal days.

You know, surely, of the solemn feast of Minerva from our school days, since we are wont to remember, even as age advances, the holidays of boyhood. For that day we are preparing a banquet for you, made of rustic vegetables, since luxury offends the sober goddess. Farewell.

You lay snares for my simplicity, which I cover with the modesty of silence. For to draw forth replies, you promise you will come, if I but assent; when it would have been readier for you to act at once than to promise. But for me, to obtain is welcome, to hope is drawn out. And yet I obey your wish: nor do I fear that you will set down in the pages of your copyist words too rashly poured out by me. For if any of these things, which I speak more incautiously with you, should stir disgust in some reader, it will not so much displease by carelessness in the writing. Farewell.

I cannot bear the hardness of our people, who, since they have not paid off the remaining arrears, refuse even to bear the payment of the coming year. Therefore I ask that you deign to join your care, along with my agent, to the exaction of the amounts owed, and that you willingly take up this dutiful effort. For it is grievous that we indeed are generous in public functions on behalf of our lands: while the managers of the estates are not even willing to pay back what they know is due to be paid every year. Farewell.

I do not allow any time to pass free from the office of the festal days. Rightly, then, to the courier who was hastening, I entrusted in haste the due words; by which I beg you to undertake the care of returning the exchange, though I would rather rejoice now in your return than in the honor of letters. Farewell.

Not by the scantiness of the office should the devotion and care of friends be weighed. For often the occasion is lacking to those who desire to write; yet the memory of friendship does not grow old through a season's silence. And so, that I have been silent up to now ought not to be attributed to my will: for many chance hindrances have checked my zeal. But when it found a timely opportunity, it has gathered into this letter the token of my purpose and love toward you; ready to make up, by the frequency of my pages, for my silence hitherto, if you will animate me with some mutual incentive of correspondence. Farewell.

That your health has again been attacked, my people's care has reported to me. Wherefore, disturbed, I did not delay to send off letters even amid uncertainty; to which, that they may find happy answer concerning you, divine mercy will grant. It will be your gift to add to my leisure the assurance of your health. Farewell.

Both in deeds and in letters you carry out the parts of devotion. For to my people you extend the support of your favor, and you share me with the honor of your correspondence. I give and hold thanks, then, taking care that our exchange of offices should never be judged unequal. Farewell.

When you wrote to my son, you defrauded me alone of the honor of your pen. I could have bitten back with the retaliation of silence, but I never repay negligence in friends with an equal contempt. And would that the letter delivered to my son had had nothing of bitterness arising from the reckoning of a brotherly debt. I too should then in no way have seemed passed over. As it is, two things have happened together, that the honor of the office passed me by, and that a bitterness shared with my son has struck me deeply. Farewell.

We have reached the shore of Formiae. From here we shall soon make for Puteoli. For it is a heavy thing, before a judge's ears, to confess a fondness for Baiae. You have the order of my plan. Do you yourself remember the promise, by which you pledged that you would be a comfort to my journey for the sake of public affairs. Farewell.

Having gone out from Rome, after the duty of the embassy, I received your letter, in which you promise abundant supplies of grain for our common homeland. And so with a twofold feeling I rejoice greatly—as a citizen, in the public security, and as a brother, in the glory of your deed—and I urge you on to this endeavor with a devout exhortation, though a good will that springs from one's own nature ought not to need spurring. I have relieved the concern of our fellow citizens by the reading of your letter. For so praiseworthy and sure a promise ought not to have been kept silent. It remains that a better outcome may attend the purpose of your devotion, and that in the future a fitting honor may answer to so great a labor for our country. Farewell.

I have been sent to Milan by the fathers to unburden to the divine emperor the help which the concern of our common country demanded. A swift return—under leave first asked of God—is promised me by favorable circumstances. But you will heap up my present joys, if news of your good health should reach me by letter. Farewell.

I announce that I have returned to Rome. And would that I could also have been the herald of my health, which the hardship of travel and the harshness of winter have shaken. But now that I have been restored to rest, I hope for better things. That you yourself may fare well, the divine powers will grant. For that you should protect my people with your accustomed favor, I ought not to ask; since spontaneous services need no spur. Farewell.

I would indeed have preferred to obtain your comfort in person, since letters hold only the second place in giving pleasure. The compensation of your writings has satisfied my longing for you, and it especially cheered my mind, that you announced that good health had returned to you in its favor. I myself have resolved to remain still at Formiae, so that once the heats of autumn have softened I may withdraw to the suburbs. For the state of the season does not allow me to enter our common homeland in sorrow. Farewell.

If the condition of the times permitted, I would press myself upon your wishes even unasked. In this matter, being sure of my own mind, you do not require, as I suppose, any assertion in words. Now the state of my fortune excuses us so far from festive duties that it demands, instead, comfort from others. Therefore, since it is not for the present in my power to frequent joyful gatherings, it will be your part to lighten one who mourns. To what end do I say this, you will ask? That you may allow my brother Florentinus, a most illustrious and most distinguished man, to remain attached to my travels. This only I ask, that you interpret as spent upon you, from this stay which he grants me, as much delight as you would have had from his presence. Farewell.