To Themistius. (362/63)
I did not receive Spectatus as someone who had wronged me — for I would write nothing about you that I would wish to keep hidden. And even if I did err, I did not owe so great a penalty as you exacted by writing as you did. For you instruct me about your own character as though I were unable to learn it in so long a time — twelve years, I believe.
And yet not even one of the household slaves raised in your company would have suffered this, nor even that Ister among the barbarians. But you were eager, it seems, to show that the man who, if nothing else, has bathed with you many times is worse than Melitides [a proverbial fool].
I have always believed, and still believe, that you practice philosophy — perhaps now writing more than before, but you observed what pertains to life even earlier, and that was a greater test than the present one. For it is not the same to abide by Plato's laws when free from affairs and to remain unbowed when many people press upon you.
You count many pupils and call many of them fortunate — those who can grasp the truth and, having grasped it, advance in eloquence. For both of Plato's gifts are yours: to teach noble things and to do so in beautiful language. This we neither fail to recognize nor keep silent about; all who have come to us for discourse have gone away having heard such praise of you.
So stop writing such letters and consider me old, yes — but not yet out of my mind.
I did not receive Spectatus as someone who had wronged me — for I would write nothing about you that I would wish to keep hidden. And even if I did err, I did not owe so great a penalty as you exacted by writing as you did. For you instruct me about your own character as though I were unable to learn it in so long a time — twelve years, I believe.
And yet not even one of the household slaves raised in your company would have suffered this, nor even that Ister among the barbarians. But you were eager, it seems, to show that the man who, if nothing else, has bathed with you many times is worse than Melitides [a proverbial fool].
I have always believed, and still believe, that you practice philosophy — perhaps now writing more than before, but you observed what pertains to life even earlier, and that was a greater test than the present one. For it is not the same to abide by Plato's laws when free from affairs and to remain unbowed when many people press upon you.
You count many pupils and call many of them fortunate — those who can grasp the truth and, having grasped it, advance in eloquence. For both of Plato's gifts are yours: to teach noble things and to do so in beautiful language. This we neither fail to recognize nor keep silent about; all who have come to us for discourse have gone away having heard such praise of you.
So stop writing such letters and consider me old, yes — but not yet out of my mind.
Modern English rendering for readability. See the 19th-century translation or original Latin/Greek for scholarly use.