Letter 46

[1] I have received the book of yours that you had promised me, and I opened it as though I would read it at my leisure, intending only to take a taste of it; then the book itself coaxed me to go on further. You may gather how eloquent it was from this: it struck me as light, since it was the work of neither your bulk nor mine, but the sort of thing that at first glance could seem to belong to Titus Livius or to Epicurus. And it held me and drew me on with such sweetness that I read it straight through without any delay. The sun was inviting me out, hunger was reminding me of itself, the clouds were threatening; nevertheless I drained the whole of it. [2] I was not merely delighted but overjoyed. What talent that man has, what spirit! I would say 'what force!'—if it had paused for breath now and then, if it had risen up only after an interval; but as it was, there was no sudden burst of force but a sustained flow. The composition is manly and pure; nonetheless that sweetness of yours kept breaking in, and gentleness in its proper place. You are grand, you are upright: this is what I want you to hold to, this is how I want you to proceed. The subject matter too achieved something; for that reason a fertile theme must be chosen, one that can take hold of talent and spur it on. [3] I shall write more about the book once I have gone over it again; for now my judgment is not yet settled in me, as though I had heard those things rather than read them. Let me also inquire into it. There is no reason for you to be afraid: you will hear the truth. What a fortunate man you are, that you have nothing on account of which anyone should lie to you from so far away!—except that, even now, when the occasion for it has been removed, we lie out of mere habit. Farewell.

I received the book of yours which you promised me. I opened it hastily with the idea of glancing over it at leisure; for I meant only to taste the volume. But by its own charm the book coaxed me into traversing it more at length. You may understand from this fact how eloquent it was; for it seemed to be written in the smooth style, and yet did not resemble your handiwork or mine, but at first sight might have been ascribed to Titus Livius or to Epicurus. Moreover, I was so impressed and carried along by its charm that I finished it without any postponement. The sunlight called to me, hunger warned, and clouds were lowering; but I absorbed the book from beginning to end. I was not merely pleased; I rejoiced. So full of wit and spirit it was! I should have added “force,” had the book contained moments of repose, or had it risen to energy only at intervals. But I found that there was no burst of force, but an even flow, a style that was vigorous and chaste. Nevertheless I noticed from time to time your sweetness, and here and there that mildness of yours. Your style is lofty and noble; I want you to keep to this manner and this direction. Your subject also contributed something; for this reason you should choose productive topics, which will lay hold of the mind and arouse it. I shall discuss the book more fully after a second perusal; meantime, my judgment is somewhat unsettled, just as if I had heard it read aloud, and had not read it myself. You must allow me to examine it also. You need not be afraid; you shall hear the truth. Lucky fellow, to offer a man no opportunity to tell you lies at such long range! Unless perhaps, even now, when excuses for lying are taken away, custom serves as an excuse for our telling each other lies! Farewell.

[1] Librum tuum quem mihi promiseras accepi et tamquam lecturus ex commodo adaperui ac tantum degustare volui; deinde blanditus est ipse ut procederem longius. Qui quam disertus fuerit ex hoc intellegas licet: levis mihi visus est, cum esset nec mei nec tui corporis, sed qui primo aspectu aut Titi Livii aut Epicuri posset videri. Tanta autem dulcedine me tenuit et traxit ut illum sine ulla dilatione perlegerim. Sol me invitabat, fames admonebat, nubes minabantur; tamen exhausi totum. [2] Non tantum delectatus sed gavisus sum. Quid ingenii iste habuit, quid animi! Dicerem 'quid impetus!', si interquievisset, si <ex> intervallo surrexisset; nunc non fuit impetus sed tenor. Compositio virilis et sancta; nihilominus interveniebat dulce illud et loco lene. Grandis, erectus es: hoc te volo tenere, sic ire. Fecit aliquid et materia; ideo eligenda est fertilis, quae capiat ingenium, quae incitet. [3] <De> libro plura scribam cum illum retractavero; nunc parum mihi sedet iudicium, tamquam audierim illa, non legerim. Sine me et inquirere. Non est quod verearis: verum audies. O te hominem felicem, quod nihil habes propter quod quisquam tibi tam longe mentiatur! nisi quod iam etiam ubi causa sublata est mentimur consuetudinis causa. Vale.