Letter 367
To Acacius. (358 AD)
You do seem to think me very fond of gold, since you told Olympius to bring me the gold piece for the wedding without a letter. But he — knowing what I am when it comes to gold and what I am when it comes to letters — refused to bring one without the other, and let the lesser gift go. He did, however, bring me something more precious than all the gold in the world: the story of the wedding. It went like this.
He said you were trembling as you were about to present your daughter. A sweet trembling for a father — one he had prayed would come. When the girl appeared, she stunned the onlookers in every way, especially with the beauty of her eyes, so that people said: "Like Artemis herself." I was delighted to hear this, and that the beauty of her soul rivals that of her body — our friend is father to such a girl, and our student is husband to her.
When I learned you had been thrown into a panic over the arrangements for the banquet tables and the promises about fish, and about the storm that struck, and how you hauled in more from the waves than another man would from a calm sea — how I rejoiced, do you think, and with how much laughter I told the story! The bridegroom received from his mother land that is practically the midpoint between Corinth and Sicyon, while the bride did not receive the same, thanks to your generosity. Let Calykios stop mentioning poverty — this Callias has excellent land on both sides.
The couple have chosen both fair Hera of the Wedding and Artemis who loosens the girdle. For it did not escape me that a mother's labor pains mingled with her daughter's wedding — the sweetest thing I have heard. The child born is one of our chorus, another Heracles, an admirer of Titianus. He rightly went there to share in the celebration, and would rightly come here to take up what he began before. For if he has grown great in a short time, he will appear greater given more.
Do not be surprised if I do something unusual in seeking the young man, for the young man's nature is itself something unusual. Let him bestir himself, then, and let Calykios not delay — a young man who will follow in his father's footsteps. For mastery in the courts awaits him, if he applies effort, and the end of that effort is pleasure.
It is right that he hold fast to his craft. Even if he has already won the prize of eloquence by being first, let him hunt eloquence for its own sake. When speeches are base, they should never be pursued; when they are noble, they should always be pursued.
Modern English rendering for readability. See the 19th-century translation or original Latin/Greek for scholarly use.