To Anatolius. (357 or 358/59)
I read that long letter of yours to my friends, for you had so ordered it, and there was no disobeying a power so great.
The reading, then, stirred up just as much laughter as you intended; indeed you were craving a great deal of it. And when I had finished, one of my listeners asked me whether I happened to be a friend of yours or an enemy. When I said that I loved the noble Anatolius dearly, "Well then," he said, "in showing forth a letter that does the work of an enemy, you ought to have made it disappear." And he proceeded to put a name to the writing. Do you wish to learn what name? But I will not say it, since even hearing it grieved me.
Let us drop that, then, and examine the charges, and you for your part must bear it, if you are shown to be a false accuser, and I shall bear it, if I am proved to be a bad man.
You said that Spectatus, who is great in his deeds, has been made small by the words that come from me; yet that very man took pleasure in the praises that came from us. If, then, he is of sound mind, your statement is false; but if he knows nothing of matters of eloquence, dare to say so, and I am altogether worthless.
Look at it this way, so that you may seem to be consistent with yourself: the very man whom you accused of making great things small, this same man you said exalts paltry things by the strength of his words. I advise you, then, to make war on the counsels of the barbarians, but not on yourself.
In being jealous, then, of those whom we adorn, you do well, for it is no sign of a bad nature to desire praises, since often jealousy is a great spur to the practice of virtue; but in blaming the fact that certain men have been honored with words, instead of making the eulogy manifest, you do an intricate, but not a noble, deed.
And you bring forward against me that I praise many men, while I bring forward against you that you blame everyone. There is, then, a lack of judgment in both of us, yet my course has in it a certain love of humanity. Or rather, there is no one whom I have praised by adding qualities that are not there, like the jackdaw in the fable with feathers belonging to others. But hear the rule I follow concerning praises.
If a man is superior to money but inferior to pleasures, that first quality will obtain praise, while the second will lie in silence. For indeed, if I were praising a land, I would do as if I had to praise Cythera, and Cythera is an island lying off the Peloponnese; in composing my speech I would set forth how it is rich in pasture and abundant in wine and well-harbored, or also luxuriant in woodland, but I would not praise its yield in wheat, for I would be lying; nor indeed could one who praises Attica say that too, yet nothing prevents him from praising it for those things in which praise is possible.
I admire Achilles, because he drove the Trojans before him; I admire Palamedes for his wisdom. But the man who, because both these qualities were not present in each of them, sees fit to blame both, does wrong.
Come now, if I were to compose a speech for you, and you persuaded me of this by your request, do you think that praises would come to its craftsman from every quarter? You perhaps think so, but the matter is not of that sort; rather I would speak of diligence, of wakefulness, of labors, of an upright vote, of foresight for what is to come, of a just spirit, of keenness, of strength of tongue, and of many other things, but "noble" and "great" I would not say; for these qualities are not in you, in your body.
And in mentioning money, I would say that you stand very far from theft, but I would not insist that you have no reward for your virtue, for you have the emperor's gifts, and the time of your office has made your households into cities, while you wrong no one but only take. Yet you would be far better off taking from nowhere, since the wealth of the reputation that poverty brings is more splendid than the columns that the emperor gives.
And indeed this too of yours is harsh and not gentle, that you revile Severus, because he had need of a girdle [office] when he ought to have practiced philosophy. For if, while laying hold of philosophy, he was carried away from the proper guise and was a huckster in the name of philosophy, he would reasonably be hated; but if he considers the one thing too great for himself and seeks some refuge, where does he err in not practicing philosophy? Or do you yourself do more wrong as a ruler than as a philosopher?
And since you press hard, making comedy of us, because we mentioned rank to you, know that you have been wholly ignorant. It was like this. For me, my words are guise enough, on account of which I have never once held myself lowlier than you men, whose splendor is an oath to flatterers; but for the means of life, the resources from these very words are small, for one who needs little.
What, then, was the meaning of what I was writing to you? Isocrates advises us to make trial of our friends while there is as yet no compulsion present, so that, if one fails, there may be no harm, and he says that one ought, when not in need, to pretend to be in need.
Such was the thing that came from me too: not being in want, I made my announcement. Therefore you, on your part, gave nothing, while I, on mine, laughed and, suffering no loss, found out your character.
Not in all things, indeed, are you slothful, but toward your kindred, if anyone is, you are ready, and of your own household no one is a private person. Then, in the case of others you honor virtue, and if one who has no share of it rules, you cry out louder than those who are being cut; but your kindred is so very dear to you that every relative of yours must rule, and the test must be absent. This is your excuse for the neglect with which you treat your friends. And if anyone brings a charge of that, you set this against the reproach.
Do I seem to you to know myself how to shoot arrows, or to be fit only for suffering them? Or rather, if you have wounded me, you too are wounded; but if those things were the work of a man at play, neither are these the work of one in earnest.
It is just, whether you took pleasure in the letter, to be grateful to the one who brought it, or, if you were stung, to exact the penalty from the bearer. For when I had resolved to keep quiet under all compulsions, Januarius brought me forward, a man revered on every side by the city, who has grieved no one with anything he ought not, but has granted favors in which the portion of justice lies, who has kept sufficient guard over that to which he was appointed, and of those pressing forward has arrested those who deserved it, speaking little, formidable in action, looking down for the most part on the profits of what happens, fitted for greater things yet content with what is present, preserving fairness in an affair that did not endure goodness. I fear, then, that you may blame the man, because he did me every service.
**To Anatolius** (357 or 358/59)
I read aloud to my friends that long letter of yours — for you commanded it, and there was no disobeying so great a power.
The reading provoked as much laughter as you intended, and you intended a great deal. But when I finished, one of the listeners asked me whether I was your friend or your enemy. When I said that I was very fond of the excellent Anatolius, he replied: "Then you are doing the work of an enemy by displaying this letter — you should have destroyed it." And he proceeded to give the letter a name. Would you like to know what it was? No, I shall not repeat what pained me even to hear.
So let us set that aside and examine the charges. You must bear the consequences if you prove to be a slanderer, and I shall bear them if I am shown to be worthless.
You said that Spectatus, a man great in his deeds, had been made small by my words. Yet the man himself took pleasure in my praises. If he was in his right mind, then your claim is false; but if he knew nothing of literary matters, then go ahead — say that I am altogether worthless.
Consider, though, how you contradict yourself: the very man you accused me of diminishing through my words, you also said I elevate trivial things by the force of my rhetoric. I advise you to wage war on the counsels of the barbarians, not on yourself.
Now, if you are jealous of those whom I have honored, you do well — for the desire for praise is no sign of a bad nature, since rivalry is often a great spur to the practice of virtue. But when you fault me for honoring certain people with words, and instead of bringing your praise into the open you resort to indirection — that is a devious act, not a noble one.
You reproach me for praising many; I reproach you for finding fault with everyone. There is, then, a lack of discrimination in both of us, but mine at least carries a certain generosity of spirit. Or rather, there is no one I have praised by attributing to him qualities he does not possess — like the fable that decks the jackdaw in borrowed feathers. But hear the rule I follow in my praises.
If a man is superior to the temptation of money but a slave to pleasures, the former will earn my praise while the latter will be passed over in silence. Indeed, if I were praising a piece of land, I would do the same. Suppose I had to praise Cythera — Cythera being an island off the Peloponnese — in composing my speech I would describe how it is rich in pasture and wine, blessed with fine harbors, perhaps crowned with forests; but I would not praise its wheat production, for that would be a lie. Nor could anyone who eulogizes Attica make such a claim either. Yet nothing prevents one from praising what may justly be praised.
I admire Achilles because he routed the Trojans; I admire Palamedes for his wisdom. But the man who insists on faulting each because both qualities were not found in both is being unjust.
Come now — if I were composing a speech about you, and you had persuaded me to do so by your entreaties, do you think the praises would come to the subject from every direction? You perhaps think so, but the reality is otherwise. I would have spoken of your diligence, your sleepless labor, your toils, your sound judgment, your foresight for the future, your just spirit, your quickness, the power of your tongue, and much else besides. But handsome and tall I would not have called you — for your body does not possess these qualities.
And on the matter of money, I would have said that you stand very far from theft, but I would not have insisted that you take no reward for your service. For you possess the emperor's gifts, and the tenure of your office has made your houses into cities — wronging no one, yet receiving all the same. You would be a far better man if you took from no one at all, since the glory that poverty confers is more splendid than the pillars an emperor bestows.
And indeed, that attack of yours on Severus was harsh and far from gentle — denouncing him because he sought a government post when he ought to have been pursuing philosophy. For if he had laid claim to philosophy while betraying its outward form, and was a mere huckster under the name of philosophy, then he would rightly be hated. But if he considers philosophy too great for himself and merely seeks some refuge — where is his offense in not being a philosopher? Or do you yourself do more wrong by holding office than by not pursuing philosophy?
Since you press hard in mocking me for having mentioned an honorific title in writing to you, know that you have entirely missed the point. Here is how it was. For me, my literary work is distinction enough — on account of which I have never considered myself inferior to any of you, whose brilliance is an oath upon the lips of flatterers. As for my livelihood, the modest income from my teaching suffices for one whose needs are small.
What, then, was the meaning of what I wrote? Isocrates advises that one should test one's friends before necessity arrives, so that there is no loss in the event of misfortune, and he says one should pretend to be in need even when one is not.
Something of that sort was my own intention: I made my request without really wanting anything. And so you did not give, and I laughed — suffering no loss, I discovered your character.
Not that you are lazy in all things — far from it. Toward your family, if anyone is, you are generous, and not one of your kinsmen remains a private citizen. Yet with others you honor virtue, and if an unworthy man holds office, you cry out louder than men under the surgeon's knife. But your family is so dear to you that every relative must hold office and no scrutiny is to be applied. This is your excuse for neglecting your friends. And if anyone levels one charge against you, you set this other quality against the reproach.
Do you think that I too know how to shoot arrows, or am I fit only to be a target? Or rather — if you have wounded me, you have been wounded in return; and if your letter was written in jest, then neither is this one written in earnest.
It is only fair that if you were pleased by this letter, you should feel grateful to the man who brought it; and if you were stung, you should seek your redress from the bearer. For though I had resolved to keep my peace, Januarius compelled me by every possible entreaty — a man in all respects worthy of respect in this city, who has grieved no one he did not know, who has bestowed favors in which justice had its share, who guarded ably the post to which he was assigned, who aided those in urgent need who deserved it, who speaks little but acts decisively, who disdains the greater part of the profits that come his way, who is connected to men of higher station yet content with what he has, and who preserved his fairness in a role that does not easily tolerate decency. But I fear you will find fault with the man — simply because he has done me every service.
I read that long letter of yours to my friends, for you had so ordered it, and there was no disobeying a power so great.
The reading, then, stirred up just as much laughter as you intended; indeed you were craving a great deal of it. And when I had finished, one of my listeners asked me whether I happened to be a friend of yours or an enemy. When I said that I loved the noble Anatolius dearly, "Well then," he said, "in showing forth a letter that does the work of an enemy, you ought to have made it disappear." And he proceeded to put a name to the writing. Do you wish to learn what name? But I will not say it, since even hearing it grieved me.
Let us drop that, then, and examine the charges, and you for your part must bear it, if you are shown to be a false accuser, and I shall bear it, if I am proved to be a bad man.
You said that Spectatus, who is great in his deeds, has been made small by the words that come from me; yet that very man took pleasure in the praises that came from us. If, then, he is of sound mind, your statement is false; but if he knows nothing of matters of eloquence, dare to say so, and I am altogether worthless.
Look at it this way, so that you may seem to be consistent with yourself: the very man whom you accused of making great things small, this same man you said exalts paltry things by the strength of his words. I advise you, then, to make war on the counsels of the barbarians, but not on yourself.
In being jealous, then, of those whom we adorn, you do well, for it is no sign of a bad nature to desire praises, since often jealousy is a great spur to the practice of virtue; but in blaming the fact that certain men have been honored with words, instead of making the eulogy manifest, you do an intricate, but not a noble, deed.
And you bring forward against me that I praise many men, while I bring forward against you that you blame everyone. There is, then, a lack of judgment in both of us, yet my course has in it a certain love of humanity. Or rather, there is no one whom I have praised by adding qualities that are not there, like the jackdaw in the fable with feathers belonging to others. But hear the rule I follow concerning praises.
If a man is superior to money but inferior to pleasures, that first quality will obtain praise, while the second will lie in silence. For indeed, if I were praising a land, I would do as if I had to praise Cythera, and Cythera is an island lying off the Peloponnese; in composing my speech I would set forth how it is rich in pasture and abundant in wine and well-harbored, or also luxuriant in woodland, but I would not praise its yield in wheat, for I would be lying; nor indeed could one who praises Attica say that too, yet nothing prevents him from praising it for those things in which praise is possible.
I admire Achilles, because he drove the Trojans before him; I admire Palamedes for his wisdom. But the man who, because both these qualities were not present in each of them, sees fit to blame both, does wrong.
Come now, if I were to compose a speech for you, and you persuaded me of this by your request, do you think that praises would come to its craftsman from every quarter? You perhaps think so, but the matter is not of that sort; rather I would speak of diligence, of wakefulness, of labors, of an upright vote, of foresight for what is to come, of a just spirit, of keenness, of strength of tongue, and of many other things, but "noble" and "great" I would not say; for these qualities are not in you, in your body.
And in mentioning money, I would say that you stand very far from theft, but I would not insist that you have no reward for your virtue, for you have the emperor's gifts, and the time of your office has made your households into cities, while you wrong no one but only take. Yet you would be far better off taking from nowhere, since the wealth of the reputation that poverty brings is more splendid than the columns that the emperor gives.
And indeed this too of yours is harsh and not gentle, that you revile Severus, because he had need of a girdle [office] when he ought to have practiced philosophy. For if, while laying hold of philosophy, he was carried away from the proper guise and was a huckster in the name of philosophy, he would reasonably be hated; but if he considers the one thing too great for himself and seeks some refuge, where does he err in not practicing philosophy? Or do you yourself do more wrong as a ruler than as a philosopher?
And since you press hard, making comedy of us, because we mentioned rank to you, know that you have been wholly ignorant. It was like this. For me, my words are guise enough, on account of which I have never once held myself lowlier than you men, whose splendor is an oath to flatterers; but for the means of life, the resources from these very words are small, for one who needs little.
What, then, was the meaning of what I was writing to you? Isocrates advises us to make trial of our friends while there is as yet no compulsion present, so that, if one fails, there may be no harm, and he says that one ought, when not in need, to pretend to be in need.
Such was the thing that came from me too: not being in want, I made my announcement. Therefore you, on your part, gave nothing, while I, on mine, laughed and, suffering no loss, found out your character.
Not in all things, indeed, are you slothful, but toward your kindred, if anyone is, you are ready, and of your own household no one is a private person. Then, in the case of others you honor virtue, and if one who has no share of it rules, you cry out louder than those who are being cut; but your kindred is so very dear to you that every relative of yours must rule, and the test must be absent. This is your excuse for the neglect with which you treat your friends. And if anyone brings a charge of that, you set this against the reproach.
Do I seem to you to know myself how to shoot arrows, or to be fit only for suffering them? Or rather, if you have wounded me, you too are wounded; but if those things were the work of a man at play, neither are these the work of one in earnest.
It is just, whether you took pleasure in the letter, to be grateful to the one who brought it, or, if you were stung, to exact the penalty from the bearer. For when I had resolved to keep quiet under all compulsions, Januarius brought me forward, a man revered on every side by the city, who has grieved no one with anything he ought not, but has granted favors in which the portion of justice lies, who has kept sufficient guard over that to which he was appointed, and of those pressing forward has arrested those who deserved it, speaking little, formidable in action, looking down for the most part on the profits of what happens, fitted for greater things yet content with what is present, preserving fairness in an affair that did not endure goodness. I fear, then, that you may blame the man, because he did me every service.
AI-assisted translation - This translation was produced with AI assistance and has not been peer-reviewed. See the 19th-century translation or original Latin/Greek below for scholarly use.