The Letters of Symmachus, Book VII

As soon as a familiar occasion afforded me the means of writing to you, I did not delay to testify my longing for you by letter, that being assured of my health you may attend to your own, and thereafter console my absence with the pleasure of correspondence. Farewell.

I send a second letter to your dear self, that the continuity of my discourse may be a comfort to both of us. Do you also rival my zeal, whenever your lord and brother finds opportunities; and let your good health give me security, and the pleasantness of your writings give me pleasure. Farewell.

The magnificence of the consular has satisfied the solemnity of the Circus games. There still remain the most splendid performances of the games and the gladiatorial show; when these, as we suppose, are completed before the Nones of February, we shall bend our journey back to our own home. I write this so that your dear self's joy may be nourished by a better hope. Farewell.

I believe another letter of mine will reach your dear hands before this one. For the bearers of this letter will follow at a slow pace with the returning mules. Yet I could not refrain from the duty of a greeting; for I preferred that the office, though completed late, should be superabundant rather than that its omission should be missed. I have not yet received any letter from your dear self; I beg that the greatest care be given to this duty. For you can judge from your own mind what relief the constancy of correspondence gives to those who are absent. Farewell.

I have received the longed-for letter of your dear self lately sent, in which was shown both the diligence of your mind and the progress of your talent. Only the brevity of the letter by no means satisfied a father's longing. I write this so that you may understand how much pleasure I derived from your discourse, I who complain that there was not enough of it. For who would wish for a surfeit, except of good things? Write therefore hereafter more generously, my light, that the reader's mind may be more fully satisfied by the fuller gift of your pen.

A longer stay has been added to our journey, owing to the postponement of the games, which the intervention of rains delays. But I wish that, being assured of my health, you bear this delay gently, and console the longing for you, which grows in me from the delay, with the constancy of your pen. Farewell.

I trust that the constancy of my pen can suffice to console your mind. For to my recent letters I add this message, whose reading will promise you the hope of my return, if chance confirms what is presumed. The reason for this expectation is plain: because after the magnificent performance of the consular games, only the exhibition of the arena still remains. Let your mind therefore turn to joy, and believe that you have already obtained what a possible conjecture promises. Farewell.

I rejoice that your letters sparkle with wit and sentiments; for it is fitting that youthful ardor speak with more exultation. But I wish that you use the sharp points of oratory in other subjects: to this kind of writing you should mix something mature and easy, which I believe your rhetorician also teaches you. For as in the dress of men, and in the rest of the cultivation of life, things suited to place and time are adopted: so the variety of talents ought in familiar writings to imitate a certain negligence, but in forensic ones to brandish the weapons of eloquence. But of these things I will not go further. Meanwhile proceed, whither the impulse of your age and the ardor of your nature drives you. The chief object of my wish is that you be well, and that you grow rich beyond your years with the endowment of letters. Farewell.

To our friend Annius, passing by in haste, I could only entrust the mere word of greeting; but the reading of my letter ought to give you assurance of my health. Be therefore of a more cheerful mind, and hope, my glory, that by frequent letters things will likewise come to your knowledge which you may rejoice at. Farewell.

My spirit rises whenever a letter from your dear self is brought. For it both brings assurance of your health, and shows the progress of your talent. I urge you, therefore, to sprinkle me frequently with such little flowers of language. And do not claim any respite for yourself, thinking that I shall soon be present. For all things will become plainer and easier for my return, if your pages rouse the spirit of one on his way back. Farewell.

The report of your indisposition greatly troubled me, although assurance of your health was joined in the same letter. Wherefore, uncertain in mind, I hasten, praying the divine protections, that both my letter and my return may find you in possession of good health. For this fulfillment of a father's wish will make my return a delight. Farewell.

The variety of rumors delayed my journey. For while I sought news of your affairs, and marked the length of the road by the interposition of days, at last, on the sixth day before the Kalends of March, I arrived at Milan after a long journey. Now my labor has been consoled by the kindly speech of our lord and prince. I also hope that the embassy will soon be brought to the notice of the divine prince; since a man most eminent in all things, to whom our order has entrusted the leading part of the public cause, is announced soon to be present with the strongest supports. I am greatly offended by your silence; and therefore I beg that you relieve the patience of my journey with frequent letters. Farewell.

Since there was no opportunity of a courier, I entrusted the letters to be delivered to a private person. I think he will arrive to you rather late. Both letters contain the same news: that on the sixth day before the Kalends of March, having journeyed round by a long detour, I entered Milan, and paid my respects to our lord and prince, whose speech compensated for the toil of my journey. I put off matters to be transacted until the presence of the man most eminent, the count, whom the assertion of messengers confirms will soon be present, God helping. Now let it be your care, our glory, to console the cares of my journey with the constancy of your pen. Farewell.

The contemplation of our friendship had given me hope of your arrival. I am near to believing that I was mistaken, in hoping that you would come of your own accord into your father's sight. Since therefore you do not know how to do right without my soliciting, come quickly at my request. And if proud Tibur has satisfied you, exchange it for the pleasant Laurentine woods; nor fear the announcement of a rough countryside. The sea is before the eyes of the hunters; the villa is bordered by a well-traveled road. One goes to the very lairs of the wild beasts, by a level and open approach. Even if these things were absent, surely mutual conversation between us, and the generous exchange of letters, would surpass the pleasures of Tarentum or Sicily. Wherefore if you too extend your hand to this proposal, add yourself to the number of those who go to the country; and for a little while imitate the Catos and Atilii, whom the plowshare and the plow-handle sent to the consular axes. Farewell.

I rejoice that you have longed for a return of my conversation; but I remove the reproach of negligence. For your courier abandoned the answers already prepared, being called away, as I learned by report, by uncertainty about your health. You surely recognize that the causes of my delay are unfeigned, and not drawn from far off. I will not go further, because the assertion of truth is brief. Now I congratulate you on your health, which, being known after so great a fear, has shed much joy in my heart. The pleasantness of your letters has, moreover, shown a sign of returning vigor. For you ask that I supply remedies of my pen to confirm your health. This gaiety of yours is of Baiae. The Lucrine gulf has infected you with excessive wit. Is there anything in my words that could restore your ears to health? That could bring medicine to your senses? I believe it, I agree. For often bitter draughts avail for health, and things affected with sad juices are restored.

But you are excessively greedy, to require anything of me while Flavianus is present, in whom there are such enticements of good things, that you seem to me to have lingered as it were among the Sirens or the Lotus-eaters. And would that I might join your leisure! I would gather more health from you than you desire, you who have asked from me only letters. Farewell.

Truly I have been silent thus far in vain, while I wait, assured of your promise. At last I must return to my accustomed consolations, having lost hope of better things. And perhaps you will succeed to my long silence. It only remains that I be summoned as one disappointed of hope by delay. It is therefore in your power to stand by your promises concerning the beginning of the journey. I shall not be sorry to be content with the relief of my pen. Certainly by this exchange of duties, either I shall be consoled that you do not come, or I shall deserve that you come. Farewell.

Having recently returned from the Formian gulf to my home on the Caelian, I learned that you had long been away from home. It was soon entrusted to Theophilus, our mutual friend and now the companion of my journey, both to carry to you in the Tiburtine countryside the news of my return, and to convey words of greeting. This man, curious as you are about my affairs, as though some public decree had assigned you an inquiry concerning me, you compelled by questioning to make plain whatever I had done abroad. For your letters, which the same excellent man Theophilus brought back, confessed as much.

Let it be a matter of your kindness to inquire into the heights and heads of my doings; whether frequent travel by field and sea has benefited my health; whether any cultivation has come to our lands, any elegance to the buildings, any increase to the flocks; what abundance of household supplies has flowed in; whether a voluntary measure has restrained my consular table; or whether I have ever exchanged Formiae for a more distant city nearby. Was it also lawful for you to explore what, far from witnesses, the care of my studies has contributed to the pages? Whether eyes mostly fixed and signs of paleness have betrayed me occupied with wax tablets? My pen suffers you as a spy. Do you teach friends the paths of suspicion, and, if it may be said, do you hunt down my writings by scent and by tracks? Now I want to know what literary work you exercise in the Tiburtine orchards.

This alone has fame reported: that a bath has recently been built for you, for which a single log is said to suffice for the fuel of a proper heat. That you have been reading, in much leisure, authors of both languages, you yourself have indicated. Yet I do not ask whether you have also written anything. For I observe that you, kindled by the glory of the consciousness of your own work, wished to learn whether I too had done the same. But now, letters aside, I would have you return: unless perhaps the modest expense of your bath urges you not to abandon your habit of economy. Farewell.

You have redeemed two offenses at once against our friendship. Your letter had long lacked its wit, you had written nothing: what Colchian or Thessalian, by chant or by hand, could have lightened these grievances? Therefore, for the charm of your letter, you shall receive the price of pardon. I allow that you, free of care, celebrate the wedding feast of your friend, and make the Tiburtine city, which recently bore torches for you, common to Juno and Hercules. You will return, as I hope, after the after-feast to your home on the Caelian. Or if it still pleases you to spend the summer days in your orchards, once more must my indignation be appeased by the honey of your letters. Farewell.

The villa at Tibur, which recently has come into your possession, requires a herald of greater talent. Yet I, of modest speech, will as I am able do honor in words to the place. What charm there is in the arrangement of the buildings! What a site! How great a range of vision cast far and wide from the height into the plain! I should say that the goddesses of Orchomenus frequent this dwelling, and have diligently striven to win you as its master. Proceed, then, as you do, and restore youth to things conquered by age. This is much more readily done than what they say of Hesiod, that having laid aside old age he returned to green years. Meanwhile congratulate us on our good health; that it may prosper long for you too is among the highest of my wishes. Farewell.

After my carriage-driver delivered your letter to me, and the greeting brought from the road discharged our observance with due devotion, an opportunity was given me of speaking often with you while you are away. Wherefore I begin with those things which are first in your wish. By God's peace, the health of myself and of your only son flourishes. I avoid the tumults of the city, so far as I may, in the Vatican countryside. And yet, if ever we are summoned to an assembly, I return my step to attend the public council. I know you wish nothing more concerning us. The stirring of my longing demands to learn just as much of your affairs. Farewell.

Long deliberation held me, whether I ought to pay you the honor of a letter under the just expectation of your return. For I feared lest your haste be broken by consolations meeting it halfway. But this doubt was resolved by the contrary reasoning, which gave hope that this letter would be, for one returning, like a spur rather than a rein. And I have deliberately made it brief, offering you only the mere word of greeting: so that the scant draught of my words may be more effective in stirring thirst than in satisfying it. Farewell.

Your eyes, I believe, seek me: let your mind not doubt that I am present. For my care of you travels with me, and I carry you wholly about in the affection of my soul. Nevertheless I exercise with my pen the pleasure of friendship. But if you too do the same in return, it will come to pass that I enjoy a long possession of leisure; because you will not deny what could draw me away. Farewell.

Having reached the Neapolitan shore, I received a letter in which you bade us stay at Baiae until your arrival. The bearer of the letter asserted that your departure was imminent, at his own heels. What was I to do, since the same place did not detain me? It seemed more expedient that I should rather beg of you the favor of continuing the journey to you. For it was friends you desired, not Baiae; unless perhaps you are drawn by that bosom of luxury. I will accompany you, if you prefer to return there: although the climate of this region is healthier and its abundance more modest. It shall be your choice, whether we should press on, or retrace our steps. It belongs to my own defense to follow you as you return, since I could not await you as you were coming. Farewell.

If you had answered my letter, you would have relieved your conscience of its burden: now you have aided ours by your silence. For repaid services afford me joy, but denied ones a victory. And I know that you can do out of abundance what we accomplish only with much sweat. But since you begrudge your readers good words, lest I be thought to do violence to your stinginess, I swallow my loss. Farewell.

I dare to ask you to my Lavinian estate, after the delights of Tibur: nor am I a long petitioner in a scrupulous desire. For such indeed ought to be the condition of requests among friends, that things which are great to those who ask should seem easy to those who grant them. Farewell.

I agree that this should indeed be done; but not to the extent that you extend your priestly authority to our loss. Is it not enough that you yourself, equally to be longed for, forsake my company, and begrudge us the most desired fellowship? Besides, you also detain another by the beguiling arts of your affection; believing, I suppose, that I will hasten my return, if I am deprived of both. But I declare that a monitor is needed, to draw back one who clings. For, as you know, I love leisure, I feed on quiet. I instruct you, therefore, against my slowness: if you now desire the return of your absent friend, allow a brief excursion of him who is present. Farewell.

Although I was hindered by the most severe fevers, I could not deny you the honor of a letter, lest I be judged neglectful of our bond. Yet I was not able to extend the letter to great length: whose brevity is blameless, since it proceeds from the wrong of illness, not from will. Farewell.

Neither did the departure of our brother, the most eminent man Proclianus, permit me to remain silent, nor did my affection allow that I should be sparing in offices. Take, then, the owed gift of an address, and, that you may make me more prompt, frequently exercise the effort of imparting a greeting. Farewell.

I indeed find leisure of the countryside pleasant: but I judge your will to be of older claim: therefore for your consular offices, if perchance the appointed day serves, I will not be absent as spectator and guest. Farewell.

You strive to draw us away from the bosom of Campania by praises of the Tiburtine estate. It is, as you proclaim, dense in your countryside with cypresses, abundant in springs, and cool from its mountain situation. These things would be desirable to me, if a longer delay had kept you there. Now, with your hastened return to the city, I know not what suspicion of a disdained place you have given me. For pleasures often bring satiety. But if this is so, I think Formiae has been satisfied, which you had renounced; since even things preferred displease you. Farewell.

We contemplate retracing our journey and returning at last into your sight, although my sons are void of strength, and the harm of fevers has assailed me; yet the labor will be lessened by the brief intervals of resting-places. I hope that the change of places will advance somewhat toward what is desired. I rejoice that the care of your diligence toward me, proven by use, grows daily: for which I would thank you profusely in words, if you did so out of affection for praise rather than sincere devotion. Farewell.

Recently I offered proof of my health; but you have not yet repaid what I in turn might read of your prosperous state. Yet it does not irk me to repeat the pious loan even before payment. For so great is the security of my mind in you, that I count as repaid whatever is owed by one who loves. Farewell.

Having first spoken the honor of a greeting, I proceed to the petition of Getulicus, an agent in affairs, who desires through me to obtain just favor from you. It befits your humanity to embrace a commendable will, and to increase, by the addition of a new admirer, the number of those who justly look up to you. Farewell.

You stir my spirit with mention of the Campanian shore: but for us too, dwelling in the Praenestine countryside, no fewer pleasures are at hand. Though the opinions of many men may be that they set the mountains below the seaside, I nevertheless judge that wooded places, for avoiding the heats, suit better than open cultivated ones. You had added, as an inducement to our departure, that my son Flavianus would shortly be with you. Of his presence I have already long enjoyed the fruit. From which you understand that my lot is much the better. For I have set the comparison of the two places in doubt, and have turned to my own benefit the fellowship of my pledge, in which you chiefly gloried. Therefore you ought rather to remeasure the road back to us, the condition having changed, to the point of satiety, which the long use of abundance has brought you. For Campania, as it is desirable to those absent, so it easily satisfies those who linger.

But on this I will not go further, lest I seem to declare my disdain, if I come, for that region which is most pleasing to us. Farewell.

We have not yet approached the Neapolitan shore, to see the citadel of your delights. But nevertheless all that the Tyrrhenian sea washes is full of your name. What more? You have succeeded to the fame of Lucullus; wherefore I marvel the more that you can sometimes pass over to other places: unless perhaps you flee abundance out of disdain, and chasten satiety by change. But you have been away too long thus far. I think that by the long duration of frugality a desire for abundance has now been won for you. Why then do you not advance your steps toward us? Or, if you gladly linger there in our simplicity, we must return quickly, for it does not befit us to affect the delights of others. Farewell.

It is a pleasure to me that you are well. But that the Neapolitan shore is preferred to our Formiae, I perceive is not your true judgment. For in favor of things present you have changed, not your opinion, but your words: unless perhaps the comparison of your own affairs makes that place more pleasant to you, where the yield is more abundant. But the nature of regions is to be judged by their own merits, not by our profits. And why say more of this? Your continued stay there will testify whether you rest there more willingly: since it is beyond doubt that you departed from me unwillingly. Farewell.

You seemed to me to be jesting, when you wrote that you had feared the soldiers' arms encountered on the road. I suppose lest they should follow your journey into the far reaches of Campania. For if you yourself, long versed in camps, experienced some fear, what bitterness should I, accustomed to the toga, have met with? But I do not allow that a rivaled trepidation should profit your delay. The whole Appian Way is free of soldiers, all having been conveyed across, who, Africa's state now pacified, returned to the service of the divine prince. What then? Does not the fatherland too, in straitened affairs, require either the help or the fellowship of good men? Nor do prosperous circumstances alone await our presence. It is the mark of a more praiseworthy service to share uncertainties with one's fellow citizens. But already better hope brightens the sad countenance of the city, and its sustenance, meanwhile supported by provided aid, pledges the coming of the Libyan grain. Farewell.

Often chance disturbs what has been arranged: which has now befallen me, who could not go to the Etruscan vapors for the sake of health, being detained by sudden and turbulent matters. No delay, then, is enjoined upon you through me: nay rather I exhort and request that you revisit Rome by a hastened journey, and restore to us the pleasantness of your presence, which we have not had the chance to enjoy in the suburbs. Farewell.

Long since freed from public cares, you ought rather to retrace your journey than to soothe the longing of friends by the auspices of letters. For if your health is fully at your disposal, what reason shall I give for your lingering so long in Campania? Is it that you may defraud us, who love you most, of those good things which we are wont to embrace in you? Nay rather, remember the city and us, and while the opportunity of summer invites, take the road in haste, that the long losses of your absence may at last be repaired by your longed-for return. Farewell.

Where has the faith of promises gone? To one hoping for your return you granted only the solace of a letter. The receiving of this gift could have been pleasant to us, if you had not promised something greater. Did you fear a consular man as witness to your delights? This precaution has accomplished nothing. Marvels withdrawn from the eyes, I detect by the ears. For as each of us is offended by our own frugality, you are longed for in your absence. The Senate shall know this, the people shall hear it. For I can avenge in no other way the just grief of your absence. Farewell.

This cessation must justly be broken off, and care must be applied to mutual exchanges, lest the neglect of writing diminish the memory of our old friendship between us. That you may henceforth do this more willingly, take the beginning from me. Here is a letter bearing greeting to you, which the rivalry of duty will testify to be a pleasure to your feelings. But if this discourse should also seek for the bearer the fruit of your patronage, I shall accuse the loss of my preceding silence. For it will be plain that I could have provided for more people, had I begun to address you sooner. Farewell.

While I was staying in the country, reforming my step by the freedom of the air—a use which detains me still after my illness—a very close friend of mine, ready to set out on a journey, gave opportunity for writing to him. Straightway, embracing with zeal the fellowship dear to me, I did not delay the writing: which might both increase the exchange of devotion between us, and open for one traveling to you the first threshold of acquaintance with you. If you think the causes of this letter approvable, may there come to me the favor of your discourse, and to him the fruit of your friendship. Farewell.

I repay to myself the greeting spoken by you, although in these recent days I have of my own accord frequented our friendship by the labor of the pen: which recollection does not reproach your services. For my mind is fed by the pleasure of this diligence. It is therefore your choice, whether you wish to be often generous to me with letters, which indeed I greatly desire. But if at any time this fruit should fail us, our very discourse will afford me the same joys of speaking with you. Farewell.

This is the one way by which I can chiefly benefit my fellow citizens and intimates, if I introduce them into your patronage, as it were a mystagogue. This I now do for Gaudentius, a man of senatorial stock: whose modesty, if you look upon it more closely, you will find equal to his illustrious birth. Let him then be received without delay into your service, so that, before the full trust that the inspection of his character will soon afford him, he may understand that he has been credited on my testimony concerning him. Farewell.

The singular goodness of your spirit often calls my confidence to just petitions. There is, then, no need to fear reproach for familiar recommendations, since you yourself, by the kindness of your wish, urge me to this zeal. There is, therefore, sure hope that letters will be pleasing to you by which I commend to you the most distinguished man Desiderius, an old friend of mine. A domestic cause has driven upon him the necessity of breaking his repose. He could easily have concealed this loss, if a great spirit admitted a narrow fortune. From him you will hear more fully whatever the brevity of a letter refuses to complete. It is enough for me to ask on his behalf in general terms. Take up, I beg, the province of doing good, which applies the merits of men to God, and gain the more illustrious fruits from the advantage of this man. For to me benefits seem to confer more upon the one who bestows them. Farewell.

Nor can I refrain from writing, as my lord and son Flavianus sets out to you, whom I owe this provision for the road, nor can I add anything: because your diligence toward him admits of no increase. I wish you to know, then, that it is not out of disdain that I write so little of him, but out of security presumed concerning your disposition. Deign to be toward him always such as our old friendship promises: to which the degree of your honor adds this, that what you ought to wish for him, you should not refuse to be able to do. Farewell.

It was by your favor that we obtained the assistance of way-warrants, by which my household men, going to buy curule horses, might travel to Spain. I ask, then, that you order those sent for this purpose to pass through promptly; for a long time is needed, that the selection may cull out the best from each province, and a more careful caution may bring them through. Moreover I shall be more strongly bound to you, if you assist their journey with two other post-horses of the same kind: for they will divide themselves, so that from different provinces they may pick out the choicer ones. It will be of your kindness, that, next after the illustrious and most excellent man the count, whatever splendor the praetorian office of my son shall add to our house, may be reckoned to your favor. Farewell.

The surest harbor against all storms of the mind is yours; therefore my sister's son hastens to you with sure hope. The nature of his affair looks for aid from the humanity of the age, whose quality will be laid open to your virtues by the reading of his petitions. I ought not, then, to be a lengthy narrator of the wrong done him, since the sincerity of the supplication itself sets forth the sequence of his desire. But affection enjoins on me only this part, that I should solicit the support of your favor on behalf of the husband of my pledge, whose poverty is threatened with grievous ruin. Farewell.

I cannot myself be a boaster of my joy concerning you, out of modesty, nor do I readily seek another witness. For it is enough that you measure my love by your own mind. Yet I ought to confess the gladness which has turned the reins of the prefecture to a good disposition. Meanwhile I overflow with no less joy, that my lord and son Flavianus, after his lengthy labor in judging, has deserved to enjoy the wished-for repose. For it was not fitting that you should long be deferred from this reward, nor that he should be delayed from leisure. I write this so that you may know that we give thanks to the eternal prince for your honor, and that you likewise ought to do so for his security. Meanwhile I ask that you keep your custom of frequent letters, nor plead that private duties stand in the way of public actions.

For you have been equal to manifold necessities: and there is no kind of experience whose magnitude or novelty could call you away from the business owed to friendship. Farewell.

Perhaps my other letters of commendation may bear the interpretation of kindness: this one is a matter of judgment. For I entrust to your holy breast my brother Severus, a man praiseworthy by the attestation of every sect; concerning whom both the despair of matching his merit, and his own modesty, forbid me to say more. Moreover I have undertaken the role of witness, not of one who praises, reserving to you the inspection of his character. When you have thoroughly weighed him, you will find that I have yielded rather to his praises than fallen short through negligence. Farewell.

What worthy return can I make you for such great care of me and mine? I cannot indeed match your services in kind: yet I pledge that I will never fall short in devotion of mind and affection. Nor do I doubt that you too, for your good deeds, expect only the reward of a good conscience. But your modesty does not allow me to linger longer in this declaration of thanks: for you judge that whatever I believe is being bestowed is owed to our friendship. Farewell.

Small is the commendation of my writings, since an innocent life and long years of service commend Eusebius as a familiar friend to all good men. Endowed therefore with his own merit, he has requested my testimony on your behalf, not sought favor through it. And yet I ought not to abstain from this kind of letter, more to satisfy fidelity than to sustain a wavering case by favor. This, then, is the sum of my petition: that in your illustrious breast my request may find the shape of my own goodwill toward him. Farewell.

As you are skilled in all matters, you know how much anxiety a legation carries, how much difficulty travel brings with it. Your love will render these things light and safe for my lord and son Attalus as he pursues the desires of the senate. Take up, then, the part of kindness both owed to my request and suited to your character. Whatever the outcome of the service may be, it will seem enough to Attalus to have deserved the care of a superior on his behalf. Farewell.

Often you gift us with letters, as is fitting. For you think that the covenant of our minds grows dull with a certain rust of silence. May you continue a duty befitting kindred pursuits and minds. For this reason I have not delayed to return you an exchange of conversation. Its settlement is such that I still feel myself a debtor to your affection even now. For all things are repaid by an easy exchange and compensation. But the contract of friendship and of religion is eternal. Farewell, and persevere in being diligent in writing. We will supply the comforts of letters, by which you may either soothe your mind when occupied, or return the exchange when at leisure. Farewell.

Your longstanding kindness urges us not to deny help to those seeking it. But my reason for writing to you on behalf of Theodulus is the more pressing, since he is a tenant of my lands, and the care owed to him is owed rather than merely requested. Preserve, then, your custom, and let yourself be moved by my prayers, as your habit promises: so that whatever fault or error he has incurred, you may deign, at my intervention, to relax it beyond his own merit. Farewell.

It belongs both to your virtue and to your character to take up all good men: among whom Alexander is rightly counted, in consideration of his honorable character. Him I commend by this familiar letter, both for his own assistance and for the sake of my love toward you, and I earnestly beg that you grant him fitting favor, and pay me in return the exchange of conversation. Farewell.

I have recently sent two little speeches of mine, lately published, to the illustrious men Felix and Minervius, endowed with the priesthood of virtues and letters. I wish that you too, as one who loves me, might be a reader of these, if you are not offended by mediocre talents. They themselves will provide the copy of the volume. For they so zealously nourish my reputation that they do not begrudge me the approval of good men. Farewell.

Julius, an agens in rebus, has shown me your sacred letter, containing the munificent gift of leopards. The same man also delivered together your page, longed for by me. In the first place of salutation, then, I pay you my reverence. Then I ask that you give thanks on my behalf to the author of the desired liberality: which will be more pleasing if a timely follow-up lends it commendation, and if the affability of your speech carries out what my own modesty could scarcely have accomplished. For I hope, from the measure of the affection I deserve from you, that I may most abundantly fulfill the greatness of our gratitude. Farewell.

My modesty was already burdened, because you had written first. Immediately a second letter of yours placed a double debt upon my already burdened brow. I fear, though I desire it, that before I discharge the two debts a third letter may be granted me by you. For that fullness of speech which is strong in you has this impatience, that it denies any interval to reciprocation, and anticipates services not yet repaid. One way alone, then, remains for satisfaction: that I confess myself unequal in style, though I do not deny myself equal in devotion of friendship. And do not think it done out of stubbornness, that I offer you only the diligence of my mind. Otherwise I would be loved by you in vain, unless you allow us at least to be compared in affection. Wherefore, after this profession of mine, continue to bestow the gift of your praised eloquence: remember, if I am rarer, that I have yielded. Shall I, then, appeal against public judgment, in writing, to the master of the imperial letters?

It is ours to blow pastoral reeds; yours to sing a song on sacred pipes. Leisure dulls us; practice trains you. Unless perhaps you think this leisure of my private life more suited to the frequent writing of letters. You see that rivers do not flow with the same motion from a pool as they hasten from a spring. Everything that is in motion thrives. Continued exercise renews its own strength. You have been deprived of what you might have answered. See to it, then, you who are strong in abundance of writing, that your example bring me as much capacity as my own talent has not given me. Farewell.

I had declared that I would be rarer in writing. What am I to do about friendship, which compels me to lie? I have departed from my resolve: but I believe you approve of such a deception. Now I would have you consider how frequent you ought to be, you who have offered me still more hope. Did you not first shower upon me the gifts of your eloquence? To which I, offering grass as it were, respond with a plea for pardon. Remain, I beg, in your promises, and keep the diligence of your undertakings. I appeal to your good faith, I who almost boast myself a liar. Farewell.

Friendship has been established for this purpose, that mutual usefulness may be governed by exchanges of service. The above sentiment bears upon the present matter. For I presume that, by the zeal of your excellency, the petition of my brother Callistianus and his wife will not be excluded from sacred benefit; a petition supported both by the fairness of the desire and by the usual form of the request. Since, then, nothing hinders their prayers, apply your benevolence to aid their petitions. Since this is innate in you, it spares me the labor of entreaty. For he does almost an injury to kindness who anxiously seeks what the nature of the one bestowing freely promises. Farewell.

I rejoice that my Aurelius holds so much place with you, that, having been entrusted by me to you, he is returned to me in turn under commendation. You have surpassed our diligence on his behalf, which you bid to grow. And so I am obedient to your word. For no affection is so full that it cannot receive increase. You will gladly allow that I am away from home, and feeding on the leisure of Campania. For you are wont to share in the good fortune of your friends with pleasure. May the honor of your military service yield you favorable fruits; may our life be secure, yours be distinguished. Farewell.

Martyrius pursues the causes of my relatives, who has earned this letter from me in support of his cause. I ask that he obtain, through you, the fulfillment of the favor he hopes for. Farewell.

Into your hands will come the case of my ward, so supported by the laws as to be favorable to him. But as the perfidy of guardians is often manifold, it frequently turns itself to various arts. I believe such men will now at last yield, at least to the sacred oracle, if your fairness makes it known as it should be brought forward. Farewell.

Having first paid the honor of salutation, I add the familiar entreaty of my own mind. For as to the fields which we possess in Caesarean Mauritania, as tends to happen when the owners are absent, the wickedness of the provincial officer leaves nothing undone. Often a complaint brought to the governor of the province has been held of little account through the indolence of the one judging. Therefore, since lesser remedies do not avail, I take refuge in greater ones. Bring help, I beg you, lest the estate, exhausted by so many injuries, succumb. You owe this both to your own reputation and to my friendship: that you deign to lend particular help to the justice of what is requested. Farewell.

He who hopes soon to come into the sight of his friends is accustomed to abstain from writing letters. For me, both that hope of seeing you remains whole, and no weariness arises from the exercise of the epistolary duty. I celebrate, then, your honor by offering my greeting, nor do I in the meantime demand a reply: since you will repay the interest on my pen shortly with the gift of conversation. Farewell.

I understand that the diligence which I show to your holy household is only too well known to you. Hence it is that you share with me your joys, and by your pen indicate that the health of my lady and daughter is returning to a better hope. I give abundant thanks, therefore, and pray to the gods that your good fortunes may prosper. As for us, the slower supply of the African ships, and the sterility of the granaries, causes us anxiety. Wherefore, being called to a collection, we have promised the customary remedies of the fatherland. But prayers are needed, that a ready payment may answer to a voluntary pledge. Farewell.

Those who have related ancient matters have handed down to memory that a certain man was called to judgment, because, having borrowed as a loan from a friend a pack-horse only as far as Aricia, he had gone beyond it over the steep parts of the further slope. Let this have been the parsimony and scrupulousness of a poorer age, that a man who passed beyond the appointed place was said to have offended against friendship. I have taken up, then, what your love urged upon me; and I am so far from fearing the consequence of your generosity that I hope, rather, of my own accord, for a good return of confidence. For you must surely approve what you yourself would have done. But why do I bring forward these things as though needing justification? I write from Formiae in perfect health; whence I have sent back the pair of horses more exercised than fatigued. I shall keep the mules a little while longer.

For you had given this option: which had I refused, I should seem to have preferred to indulge my own inclination in taking what was offered, rather than to yield to yours in what was permitted. Farewell.

When I reflect on the troubles of the city, it delights me to be absent: when I contemplate you all in thought, my absence wearies me. A middle relief, then, lies in letters: which I have therefore sent to you, that I might both satisfy friendship, and, following the example, that you might grant me your letters, in which you see there is greater comfort. Farewell.

Your letters contribute very much of help and assistance to me toward the confirmation of my health. First, because they testify that you are mindful of me: then, because they bring tokens of your prosperity. I confess, therefore, that my health, still weak, is refreshed by the constancy of your writings: and I understand what advantage I would have from your presence, since I receive so much wholesomeness from letters that are its tokens. Farewell.

Having set out for Milan, I write this, and from here I pay you the honor of the greeting owed to you. It is fitting that my concern for you be soothed by the report of your dutiful reply. Farewell.

We have arrived, but I already regret having come. For as soon as I touched the ground of the Baian shore, I was at once seized by a pain in my foot. And therefore I have dictated only a few words, soon to be more abundant in writing, if the wished-for health should look favorably upon me, and if your letters in turn should provoke mine. Farewell.

At my first arrival, as I noted in my previous letter, my health was struck—whether by unwholesome waters, or by a change of climate. Chance will show which. Now a better condition has begun to lessen the ills: but above all else it has been a remedy that we have learned you are well. But if you also inquire the time of our return, we hope to take the road by the Ides of October, if fortune favor the word. Farewell.

I know that my letters are both desired and awaited by you, since it is the custom that a gift of this kind should begin from those setting out. I send you, then, the first token of preserving our mutual salutation; in no way doubting that, as though a signal had been given, you will not be slow to reply. Farewell.

It is a matter of devotion and of vow, that customary gifts should be offered by quaestor-candidates to their chosen and most special friends. In this number you are rightly reckoned. I therefore offer you an ivory diptych, and a small silver bowl of two pounds' weight, in the name of my son, who has performed the office of quaestor: and I earnestly beg that you would deign to embrace this token of honor with a ready welcome. Farewell.

You could readily judge for yourselves that there were reasons underlying my silence: for how should I have omitted the duties of affection, if I had had the strength? Now, as the pain gradually recedes, I could no longer put off the duty of greeting. It will be for you in your turn to render me the like exchange. Whatever day, long wished for, brings me back, will supply the remedies toward my recovery. Farewell.

After I had sent off the letter that was to carry my greeting to you, there arrived one who delivered to me your own letter. At first I rejoiced to receive it; but when I learned that our common treasure had fallen ill, I was suddenly struck with the bitterness of that reading. But since what followed informed me that our son had been restored to health, my mind returned once more to tranquility. I have indicated the state of my own health in earlier letters; there is no need to mention it again, lest the repetition of anxious writing should trouble you. Farewell.

A little while ago I sent a letter foretelling the return of our son Faustus, so that swift assurance might soften the impatience of your longing; but I was not loath to repeat the office of greeting even as he himself was setting out. Take, then, a twofold pleasure: first from his own return; then from this brotherly discourse, whereby I inform you that our common children have been restored to health. Farewell.

In recent days I have written letters frequently; but no diligence can suffice to satisfy the mind of one who loves. I think, however, it is enough for your knowledge that we write to say we are well: although our common treasure, troubled a few days ago by loss of blood, has diminished the pleasure of our leisure; yet by divine aid he has now begun to emerge into full health. Farewell.

Fortune has returned to favor with our citizens, since the republic has claimed you for itself. Among the others hoping for fairness, then, is to be counted my dearest friend Jucundus; whom, though grievously afflicted by a now long-standing illness, an eminent prefecture has summoned to the hearing of a private lawsuit. It is indeed his heartfelt wish to answer to the charges under your examination. But his health resists his will, wounded as it is by loss of blood, and refuses the uncertainties of travel. Nor will the right of his adversary's suit be lost, if the dispute is transferred to your Vicar. This, then, is the sum of my request: that, while nothing of the case is lost as to venue, distance from travel may secure the man's health. Farewell.

I must prepare and furnish my praetorship, for whose celebration the advancement of your greatness has given encouragement. For my undertaking will make use of a brother's resources. I ask, then, that you religiously share with me the duties owed, and that, for my friends journeying to the far reaches of Spain for the purchase of chariot-horses, you deign to grant your support in advancing the business. It would take long, should I wish to run through in a letter all that is to be provided. I have briefly noted the heads of the matter in the appended list. It will be yours to add further favors, if the pen of the petitioner has left any out. Farewell.

If my earlier letters had availed anything on behalf of my friend and bosom companion Jucundus, my discourse would now be spent in giving thanks rather than in renewing petitions: but since frequent attendance in a civil suit increases his infirmity, I now renew my plea not for the case, but for the health of my close friend. And certainly the obtaining of this ought not to have been difficult, since the divine inspiration of your favor had granted him the boon of a long journey away: the execution of which matter I marvel to find difficult, since your gentleness is wont to grant such things even without the authority of a rescript. I beg, then, the more earnestly, that the case, so often agitated in these courts, be remitted to the forum of the Vicar: since this both the sacred letters command, and the humanity of judicial proceedings does not refuse. Farewell.

Devotion gave me my first reason for writing, that our friendship might be cultivated by letters. Kindness suggested a second, that your affection might be won for that excellent man, Thalassus, my friend. It remains that the exchange of your discourse should answer me in turn, and that the outcome for the one commended should proceed according to my wish. Farewell.

Both the plan of my disposition toward you demanded that I write, and my support ought not to be wanting to that most distinguished and honored man Eusebius: whom I beg your kindness to reward, well deserving as he is of the best of men. For every praiseworthy man desires this alone as the reward of his modesty and honor, that through pure connection he may attain to the inmost intimacy of good men, and of those like yourself. Farewell.

Every commendation bestows testimony upon friends, and lends support to strangers. Processus, then, most honored sir, my son, is not to be reckoned in that class to which letters are given as a favor; but rather in that in which an exchange is paid out of love. It is already clear to you what form of judgment is to be maintained toward him in familiarity, whom I commend without partiality. It is fitting, then, that as much merit as he has laid up with me, so much kindness he should find with you. Farewell.

Our friendship ought to help Numidas with you: I commit him to your support, that the merit he has laid up with us by honorable service may be requited by your care on my behalf. Judge the man's character by my own estimation, and in all things his interest requires, follow the wish of the one commending him. Farewell.

Friendships of parents are rightly carried over to their children, so that an affection once begun may profit their successors as though by hereditary right. On this account I have undertaken to love and protect equally the son of that excellent man, once, Gregorius. For there was a faithful bond of souls between me and his father; but I wish to share this debt of devotion with you. Wherefore I beg that you carry out my concern for him in whatever his need shall require. Among the young man's other wishes, this is the chief mark of his liberal spirit, that he desires, though of no obscure birth, to come as an advocate to your court: to whom (as I hope) you will grant both instruction by the splendor of your eloquence, and support through the goodness of your mind. Farewell.

I believe my letter has by now been delivered into your hands, in which I represented what has been established by judicial finding, that my friend Jucundus, though eager for your examination, cannot travel on account of his health. His illness increases daily; and therefore I repeat my request, lest he who deserves compassion fall under the suspicion of stubbornness. And indeed no humanity toward him will detract anything from the civil suit, if the examination be transferred to your Vicar. For at once injury will be spared to the sufferer, and the matter will reach its due conclusion. Farewell.

The outcome has proved that my hopes of you were not unwarranted, in what you have deigned to grant, and that I might rather have incurred blame, had I kept silent out of shame, before one so loving, the pressing needs of the praetorship of my child. I rejoice, then, to be adorned with the frequent tokens of your love: and I wish you to hope that whatever favor my games may earn, will be referred, with my yielding, to your own kindnesses. Farewell.

You have indeed always borne honors with the splendor of your life and learning. But now it is the congratulation of all good men, that a public dignity too has been bestowed upon you. I hope, then, that you may enjoy according to your wish the insignia of your office, and, advanced to the height of glory, may match the greatness of the imperial judgment. Farewell.

It is my duty to report that I am well; it is my wish to learn that you are safe. Thus, by the announcement of my own good fortunes, I have fulfilled the part of one who loves; you still owe me the joy of your own health. That this may come to my knowledge with sure certainty, both the favor of the gods and your own letters will provide. Farewell.

With a friendly spirit you share in our joys, and follow with the congratulation of your pen the restored honor of my son Flavianus. Worthy is he for whom happy things should always befall. This kindness of your regard, I know, remains true to the disposition of him who conferred it. Praiseworthily, then, you follow the guidance of the best of wills. Keep, I beg, as you do, your constancy in good things; imitate him, and love us. Farewell.

The honor of your office shines forth through the kindnesses of the giver. Since, then, the reckoning of your merits places you nearest the highest ranks, seek out the glory of fame and favor through kindness. Nor is it far to seek whence you may gather fruit of this sort. For letters urge upon you the helping of my son Desiderius; a man adorned, apart from fortune, with all things which the care of men can bestow. But fortune too will return to favor with him, if you show him yours. It remains only that you wish it, since, according to the strength of your position and merit, you are able, so easily, once the dispute is set aside, to heal the somewhat troubled affair of our friend. Farewell.

You have already deigned before now to embrace the friendship of my lord and son Flavianus. But now the time is given for you to display to him the proofs of true intimacy. For, summoned by the sacred letters of our lord Honorius, most august prince, to the office of magnificent consul, he will afford you an occasion whereby his own merit may become plain to your judgment, and your affection for him may shine forth. Meanwhile my intervention pursues the part of a parent. Nor is it doubtful what weight the commendation of one's own children carries with one who loves his own. This, then, is the sum of my desire, that he may find in your heart a love like my own. Farewell.

You urge me toward favor for Dynamius, to whom I should not yield in love for you. For you are a man of the liberal arts, cultivated, accomplished. Gladly, then, do I yield to your judgment, and declare that he is worthy to be joined to our order. But there must be added to him the privilege of military rank, that he may enjoy the benefit of allectio. For the divine constitutions have willed that such duties be relaxed only for those whom the honor of camp service illumines. If, then, you shall bestow this distinction as well, which the addition of rations and travel-warrants would crown, he will proceed by an easy course to be enrolled among the consulars. Wherefore it is in your power to assist both his merit and my zeal with such supplements. Meanwhile I marvel greatly that, in the case of the illustrious Flavianus, my lord and son, you have thought neither of the rank of his honor nor of the right of friendship.

For when your outstanding authority demanded the debt owed under the wine-tax heading, it went so far as to condemn his office in a fine. Bear patiently my saying that neither the prefecture nor a man so devoted to you ought to have been touched by such an affront. I beg, then, that you deign henceforth to show him as much deference as it is fitting should in turn be shown to you. I, certainly, as the parent of you both, will suffer no discord to arise from you; rather, I long that the grounds of mutual love should grow between you through dutiful offices. Farewell.

I took joy from your letter, when you informed me that my friends traveling to Spain had been aided by your commendatory letter. Wherefore I both hold the favor received in my heart, and attest it with my mouth. But your modesty makes me speak of this more sparingly; for it is affection, not words, that you desire. Farewell.

I have at last received your long-desired letter, now with an immoderate gladness of spirit. Responding, then, with due reverence and love, I add this: that you would deign in future to bestow more often that delightful gift which you have freely given. But there is no need to dwell upon this request. For my petition ought not to have to draw out what your kindness already promises. Farewell.

I gladly practice the cultivation of friendship. For I see that you do not refuse me an equal return of care. Your love, moreover, is a great spur to my diligence. Wherefore I cannot reproach as a favor what I render as a debt. For you yourself are the author of those services of mine, which you provoke by your constancy in writing. Farewell.

I perceive what affection you deign to show me in return. But I marvel greatly that you should suspect my lord son Flavianus, who embraces you with an equal love, to be unequal in his regard for your friendship. If, then, you think there is any weight in my assurance, lay aside, on the strength of that assurance, any such persuasion; and, driving out the whisperings of others, keep a constancy suited to your own upright character and to friendship. Certainly, if any rival talk has come to your notice, share it with me, I beg, so that whatever bitterness has been conceived from the accusations of others may be dispelled by faithful clearing. Farewell.

I think it enough, for the sum of commendation on behalf of the honored Eusebius, that I declare him approved by me: and therefore I need not labor with many words to win for him your good will. For I hold it assured that those who have shown me faithful service will by no means lack your favor. We are well, according to our wish; and we shall gladly receive it, if you do not withhold from us letters of your own well-being. Farewell.

Few words need be said on behalf of those already known and approved. For they bear witness to my office, not to their own merit. Wherefore I need not labor to commend to your excellency the merits of my lord and son Flavianus: since indeed the old friendship between you will turn to a happier use. This is the sum of my discourse, that on his return to his homeland he may bring back to himself your lasting affection, and to me your reciprocal greeting. Farewell.

I wish you may receive this greeting in sound health and glad in prosperity. It shall be delivered to the excellent man Desiderius, to whom a pure life procures the highest praise. This page bears witness to my duty; it will bring back much good, if it draws you favorably inclined toward the friendship of the one who delivers it. For that you should deign to reply, I do not think I need strive for, given your affection. This alone is the care of my desire, that the one commended may win your favor, and return as a praiser of your kindnesses; whose usefulness will redound to his advantage, and whose thanks will redound to my satisfaction. Farewell.

I see that the honor of my son Flavianus has lain thus far in abeyance for this reason, that a better witness might come to him. He had fallen, to be reserved by the judgment of better times, into the justice of a tyrant. But the loss of the prefecture procured for him what changed its author. What words then will match so great a gift? Join with us, I beg you, in rendering thanks to that most eminent man. For since each of us singly is overcome by the greatness of the matter, we need unhired panegyrists, that number may fill up the burden of the debt owed. And indeed the lord of my heart, from whom the kindness proceeded, gathers the measure of his own deed not from another's words, but from the joy of his conscience: nor is he ignorant that such are the things he bestows as to surpass any hope of repayment.

Yet we shall repay the debt of gratitude with the fidelity of friendship and of respect: and to this we pledge our hearts as sureties, with which the free-born satisfy the authors of their light. For to dutiful bonds, love suffices. Farewell.

The mediocrity of my words cannot be equal to rendering thanks to our lord and master, the most excellent count. I therefore lay this task upon you, that you fully set forth to him the disposition of my mind concerning the post-horses obtained in aid of my praetorian function: and at the same time deign to strive that a swift passage to Spain be obtained for those sent on this business. For the time of the exhibition draws near, and I fear lest the slow purchase of chariot horses and their tardy conveyance should straiten me with anxious difficulties. Concerning this also I have asked the sublime and most excellent count, being confident of obtaining it. I have added besides a memorandum, of which you will deign to be the advocate: that, if the request does not seem burdensome, he may, by letters given to the chief men of Spain, escort my household attendants. Enough has been said.

If the conversation of my friends has suggested anything else to your ears, I beg that you not be unwilling to take it into the care of your holy and most faithful breast. Farewell.

Mutual love causes me to delegate to you matters that concern my own advantage. Since therefore the praetorian exhibition of my son is at hand, which the illustrious count, most eminent in every kind of virtue, has deigned to assist with his post-horse warrants, speed must be applied to the purchase of chariot horses. Wherefore I beg you that no delay hinder my household attendants sent to Spain, whom I wish to be commended by your letters, so that your merits, impressed upon the minds of the Spaniards, may serve them as recommendation. Farewell.

I know the trouble of Julianus, an Agens in Rebus; I approve his birth, I grieve at his fortune. For he has long and grievously been worn down by the ills of fate. But I believe all will return to good favor for him, if he is cherished by your patronage and humanity. I shall say no more, since it is characteristic of your excellent character to relieve those in want of help, and since the very nature of your mind agrees with this request of mine. Farewell.

After the agreement of the parties, after the bond of the pact, and after the documents of the settlement were produced in court, my son Caecilianus is again dragged into the uncertainties of litigation. You know the nature of the case; rightly I omit to set forth in writing what is already known. This alone I wish to obtain from your holy mind, that with the same strength by which you settled the earlier disturbances, you now remedy the renewed injury: since the broken concord ought to spur your justice more keenly against the breach of the pledged faith. Farewell.

The wickedness is plain of those who bring back into question matters settled by agreements, and who, through impatience of quiet, exchange the end of a quarrel for a second lawsuit. Consider therefore the grief of my son Caecilianus, for whom the concord purchased at the cost of his patrimony could not secure peace. For he is dragged back into protracted litigation, from which he will easily be extricated, if you lend your support: for in you and your brother is the haven of all whom fortune assails. I ought not to be more prolix in asking, since the nature of the case and your own justice elicit more favor from you than my intervention could. Farewell.

Two recent reports of equal pleasure have reached me: that you have both risen by just advancement of honors, and that my lord and son Flavianus has been granted the enjoyment of private leisure. Having received this twofold assurance, I ought to have awaited your letters on this matter, which I judged should be deferred out of modesty. Wherefore I leave to you the estimation of my joy: since you may gather its measure from your own affection for us. But I wish these joys to be joined also with those things which, as you recall, have long since been requested concerning the praetorian exhibition of my son. For I am greatly surprised that the sacred rescript has not yet smiled upon requests so just and customary. Therefore in a second letter I have again asked that petitions, burdensome to no one, but pleasant to me, supported also by examples sent of the lesser magistrates, be graciously, as is his custom, ordered to be carried into effect.

But I ask that the beneficence of so great a man, whose pleasure it always is to bestow beyond hope things greater than expected, be made more prompt than hope, if, as I have often asked, it is spurred on by your admonitions. Farewell.

I would pursue my brother Severus with much discourse, if he sought your friendship by a new approach, or if his character suited such praise. I therefore spare abundance of words, and leave it to your judgment, that the justice of your diligence be applied to your own will rather than to my letters. Farewell.

Since care for all my affairs is especially yours, I presume that to my son Arcentius, a man of distinguished rank, whom kinship joins to me, your intimate friendship may be opened, which the honor of his life and the antiquity of his family rightly win for him. To these good qualities of his own my prayers are added, to increase his recommendation: so that I cannot in the least doubt that my testimony and your judgment will both be of the greatest advantage to him. Farewell.

The most ample order has sent my lord and son Attalus, a man of the highest rank, to our lords and princes, furnished with the customary various instructions, which appear to concern the public good. If you become his supporter, I believe it will come to pass that he will accommodate to him the fruit for his labor. I beg you therefore, whether for the merit of the embassy, or in my name, to look kindly upon this excellent man; who is sufficiently assured in mind that, with your support, success will follow. Farewell.

Blessed are you, who, having completed your honors, live in leisure. We live upon the sea of our country, and are buffeted by its waves. To what end I have said this, my lord and son Attalus will explain: for whom the hope of seeing your excellency has made the labor of the journey desirable. Farewell.

Two things equally pleasant have come to me. First, your discourse: which, even if continual, would cause no weariness. Then the longed-for arrival of our brother Frumentius; whom, before I made trial of his character myself, I judged, on the strength of your testimony, worthy to be counted among the good. But when, upon closer acquaintance, the ornaments of his integrity became clear, I noticed that he had been praised less than reason demanded, out of modesty, lest he himself should seem, by his own praise, to intrude into the message entrusted to your letters. With these gifts, then, I pay you the desired reply, by which you may recognize that I act according to my wish, and enjoy, along with my household, good health. To this matter I think nothing further need be added, since the mere token of our welfare can fully satisfy a brother's congratulation. Farewell.

You know, from the humanity inborn in you, what kindness and mercy are owed to little ones bereft of their parents' support. I do not think I need employ with you a long circuit of letters on behalf of the children of the man of illustrious memory, Severus; who, unless aided by the judgment of good men, will lie exposed to plunder and injury. Let your favor not begrudge to expend whatever their advantage requires: that they who are deserted by the support of their kin may at least be defended by public assistance. Farewell.

I will not allow you to be without a share in my correspondence, nor will I be led by imitation of your silence to abandon my perseverance in writing. For I know that often it is not through neglect of friendship, but through the pressing weight of cares, that such duties are delayed. I would have you believe the same of me, and henceforth take care to renew this office, which you yourself have long deferred. I shall then be readier in offering letters, I who do not now refrain, though I receive no mutual favor in return. Farewell.

I hold it certain that nothing is more pleasant to your mind than the letters of friends: and therefore I most readily frequent conversations, which I know are of great weight to an eminent man. It remains that, as graciously as you receive my letters, so willingly you send forth tokens of your own well-being. Farewell.

It is dear to my heart to address you frequently, lest it seem that my care for the duties of friendship has grown cold. And so I wish you well by vows, and speak by letters: asking that, if at any time the use of the pen should cease for a longer interval, you attribute the cause of my silence not to unwillingness or idleness, but to occupations. Farewell.

Athanasius, a man of senatorial rank, has received the injury of his journey with just grief. For the marriage agreed upon for him, and bound by the obligation of pledges made in our presence as witnesses, is being denied. I would enlarge upon the odiousness of this deed, were not words too small for the matter. He himself will explain to you more fully what needs to be sought. I need not entreat that he be aided by your help, since your affection for him pledges it, and his cause, fortified by the laws, invites it. Farewell.

I know it belongs to a token of friendship that I make your devotion a partaker in my need. Take up, then, I beg you, this easy commission, which, out of mutual affection, you ought to attend to even unasked. A very great number of bears are being brought from Italy for the exhibition of my games, which I desire to be presented for use as quickly as possible. Deign, then, to secure their passage with zeal and diligence; and at the same time to provide a guard, lest some greedy fraud exchange them. Above all, delays must be broken off, since the approaching day of the exhibition allows no respite for the gathering of the apparatus. Farewell.

I approve your modesty. But it ought not to have been to my loss, while it awaited the fulfillment of what was hoped for. And surely now, since the accomplishment of the matter has put an end to silence, let a more frequent pen make up for my loss. There is another thing by which you may make up for all your writing. In rendering thanks to our lord and master, the Consul, for his kindness, take on our person, with that same affection with which you claim for yourself the joys of friends. But, as I know, with more brilliant words, both because of the greatness of your own genius and without the shame of flattery, you will pursue the joy of one absent. Add, if it please you, what you already hold as previously requested, that the purchase of the other Libyan beasts be granted me by sacred authority. Once this is obtained, I shall consider it the gift crowning all my acquisitions.

As for my young man, I do not trouble to repeat what you already remember of your own accord. For I understand that the necessity of asking is being spared to my modesty, since things unlooked-for are the more gladly bestowed by so exalted and most magnificent a man. Farewell.

In that excellent man and my very good friend Perrocius there is Roman simplicity. I say nothing of the fact that long and blameless military service does him honor. For all else is made small by the inspection of his character. Your unanimity has not yet learned to know him: let it receive him, following my judgment. If your acquaintance with him should be needed, I ask that the honor of my testimony may procure for him an increase of your affection. Farewell.

We ought to be of use to the children of our friends, which, even if I did not know it myself, I would have learned from your example and imitation. To this sentiment belongs the bearer of this letter. He serves in the office of the scrinia of letters: for him enough of help and good fortune will come, if he should merit access to the clientship of your most splendid house. Farewell.

I have begun to love Athanasius, distinguished for his good arts, with greater confidence, after I learned your judgment of him. For it is a great commendation to have pleased a wise man. Wherefore I abstain from commending him, lest I bring forward lesser things than I believe you already perceive. This part is easier for me to say: that you cherish in him the hope you have given, and add completion to the kindness already begun. And if some turn of events should disappoint it, bring it about, I beg you, by bestowing greater things, that the loss of the earlier promise may profit him. Farewell.

I bring no new or untried petition, but one which you may recognize as already brought to your ears. I defend, with paternal affection, the daughters of the man of illustrious memory, Rufinus, former prefect of the city: whose care I desire to be safeguarded through you, to whom the care of the commonwealth belongs. And so I come as their advocate, that whatever the needs of their illustrious but pitiable house demand, they may obtain with easy success. For their property lies in Apulia, ample not so much in yield as in valuation. Unless this be supported by the help of good judges, worn down by public burdens it will succumb. It awaits, therefore, the relief of your aid. You will also make me your debtor in gratitude, if, as a saving defender, you raise it up when overcome by so heavy a weight. Farewell.

Your judgments have made me more ready with regard to the defense of Herennius, a praiseworthy man. For the very choosing of it holds much delight, and hoped-for supports provoke the spirit. But it is not for me to display in writing what our care has contributed toward advancing the matter. He whom we have aided will tell you these things, and the very outcome of the affair will bear witness to our services. For all the things which the plundering had scattered have been sought out and brought to light. And so there will return to the right of Herennius a succession owed indeed by the laws, but bitter to a father's feeling. Now I give and hold thanks for your good opinion of me: and I hope that trust in me among the best of men will remain steadfast, of which you have begun to give proofs. Farewell.

My love for you strives with all its might, that with each passing day fresh regard for you should accrue among good men: so far am I from allowing old friends of yours to be plucked away by the wickedness of accusations. Among these the most illustrious man Scipio, a praiser of your virtues—I too am witness—grieves that he has been despoiled of your love through his rivals. But it does not seem to me likely that the steadfastness of your character could have been changed by false rumors, since one conscious of a good life ought to reckon that nothing is permitted to slanderous talk against him. Wherefore I urge and beg you, spit out whatever falsehoods have been instilled, if there are any, and claim for your own deserts this honor, that you may understand yourself to be judged by all such as you truly are. Let no one transfer onto you the seeds of his own hatred.

For it has long been a device of the art of fostering the strength of one's own discord, to stir up fear of one's betters. I will not go further, since the wisdom of your character promises me success in this plea—wisdom which I think will answer my letter to this extent, that you have not so much forgiven Scipio as believed nothing against him. Farewell.

I do not wish you to measure my care for you by my letter. The words of one greeting are few, but the wishes are ample. Let it be permitted, then, to imitate toward you the frugality of religious rites, by which the rights of friendship are conferred, and let a devoted duty be discharged briefly, as though with small coin. For devotion does not require a lengthy excursion. But to you I prescribe limits for your pen. Whatever you write of yourself will seem to me too great, if it be joyful. Farewell.

My mind is sick, so long as there is no sure assurance that you have entered the harbor of health. I wish you to satisfy this expectation. For I do not desire that honor be paid to me by an epistolary courtesy, but that relief be given to a great anxiety. Farewell.

You will never bring it about, by your silence, that imitation should lead me to an equal disposition. For I consider not what is owed to a passing occasion, but what is owed to lasting friendship. And though I am a strict judge of my own duty, I believe your attentiveness ceases more often by chance than by disdain. But lest a long interval in our correspondence, though it be one who loves you, compel me to fear neglect, I beg that you steadily exercise the duties of familiarity. For how can I understand that what I offer is welcome, if you refuse what I ask in return? Farewell.