Letter 79: A letter of consolation addressed by Jerome to Salvina (a lady of the imperial court) on the death of her husband Nebridius. After excusing his temerity in addressing a complete stranger Jerome eulogizes the virtues of Nebridius, particularly his chastity and his bounty to the poor. He next warns Salvina (in no courtier-like terms) of the danger...

JeromeSalvina|c. 396 AD|jerome
barbarian invasionconversioneducation booksfamine plaguegrief deathillnessimperial politicsmonasticismproperty economicsslavery captivitywomen
Theological controversy; Imperial politics; Travel & mobility
From: Jerome, priest and scholar in Bethlehem
To: Salvina, lady of the imperial court
Date: ~400 AD
Context: A consolation letter to a well-connected widow at the imperial court — Jerome praises her dead husband Nebridius, warns her bluntly about the dangers facing young widows in court circles, and urges her to devote herself to raising her children.

Salvina,

I fear that my desire to do my duty may expose me to the charge of self-promotion — that people will say I am not consoling a widow but trying to ingratiate myself with the imperial court. Let me answer that charge before it is made. "You shall not respect the person of the poor" [Leviticus 19:15], the commandment says — meaning that justice does not change with the status of the person involved. Wealth need not disqualify the rich, and poverty is no recommendation for the poor. Abraham was immensely wealthy and the friend of God. Poor men are daily arrested for their crimes. Each person must be judged on the merits of their case, not their bank account.

Your husband Nebridius deserves praise, and I will give it — not because he was powerful, but because he was good. In a court that runs on flattery, bribery, and intrigue, he preserved his integrity. In a city where young men of rank spend their fortunes on mistresses and racehorses, he was faithful to you. In a world where charity is a performance, he gave to the poor in secret, not for show. He died young, but he died clean — and that, in the moral squalor of an imperial court, is no small achievement.

Now I must be blunt with you, and you may not thank me for it. You are young, wealthy, well-born, and connected to the imperial family. You are a prize. Every fortune-hunter within a hundred miles of Constantinople will be circling you before the year is out. Some will come with honest proposals; most will not. Some will drape themselves in piety; others will simply appeal to your loneliness. The clergy will not be the least dangerous — I know this from long observation of both sexes.

Here is my advice: do not remarry. Not because marriage is sinful — it is not — but because you have something better available to you now. Widowhood, properly lived, is a freedom that married women can only dream of. You are free to pray without distraction, to study without interruption, to raise your children without a new husband's interference. You are free to give your wealth to God instead of to a man who may squander it, or — worse — to his relatives.

If you do decide to remain a widow, be prepared for the assault. Your family will pressure you. Your friends will pressure you. Society will pressure you. The imperial court itself will pressure you, because a well-connected widow is a political asset that powerful men want to control. You must develop a backbone of iron, wrapped in silk.

Eat simply. Dress modestly — not ostentatiously humble, which is just vanity in disguise, but genuinely plain. Avoid banquets, especially those with mixed company. If you must attend court functions, attend them briefly and leave before the wine starts flowing freely. Keep serious women around you. Dismiss any servant who brings gossip, and any visitor who lingers past the point of propriety.

Above all, raise your children well. They are your monument and your mission. Nebridius left them in your care, and you owe it to his memory — and to God — to make them worthy of their father's name. Teach them the faith. Teach them generosity. Teach them that their rank is not a privilege but a responsibility.

I write as a stranger, but I write in good faith. May Christ give you strength for the road ahead, and may the memory of Nebridius light your way.

Farewell in the Lord.

Modern English rendering for readability. See the 19th-century translation or original Latin/Greek for scholarly use.

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