To Antipater. (362/63)
You seem to want letters from a scoundrel — whether I have forgotten a friend through length of time or suffered this very thing from some good fortune. And I wonder why you did not count it a gain to be rid of someone afflicted with such faults.
As for me, I have my share of the common good fortune, being governed by the best of emperors. But in private matters I have surpassed none of my neighbors. I do not build grandly, I have not bought vast tracts of land, I am not escorted by lictors who strike and frighten, I make no great promises, and I have taken no revenge on any enemy.
What swelling, then, have you seen to provoke your insults? What informer, what prophet told you of this arrogance? I visit the emperor when summoned — never otherwise — and not frequently. Once admitted, I listen to him speak (for he is a Siren), and whatever he utters is no less valuable than a treatise. I leave with my judgment improved, encouraged to write by the emperor's own words.
These are the fruits of my visits. But as for "Remove this man from office, O Emperor, and let that one govern; grant honor to this one and strip that one of his possessions" — that belongs to Praxilla's Adonis [proverbially foolish wishes], and now truly the emperor's title has come into its own.
Still, even if I had great influence in such matters, I would have been among those who flee from pomposity, as from an unbearable burden. You would believe me justly, unless you have suffered the very thing you accuse me of and have forgotten my character.
And this too is absurd: to pray to live amid the same circumstances, yet to act in new ways unprecedented before. For remind me — what letter of yours came to us in Syria before this one? You cannot name one. So you have become a different man, and while praying to the gods to remain the same, you willingly cut a new path — one pleasing to me, but at war with your own prayers.
But may you never cease walking this path and writing. And I would like you to seek a more charitable explanation of my silence. When you receive no letter, blame the couriers for their negligence rather than immediately assuming your friend has turned bad — a friend who wished the priesthood to be yours, but was defeated by the one who got there first, whose only just claim was having come first.
You seem to want letters from a scoundrel — whether I have forgotten a friend through length of time or suffered this very thing from some good fortune. And I wonder why you did not count it a gain to be rid of someone afflicted with such faults.
As for me, I have my share of the common good fortune, being governed by the best of emperors. But in private matters I have surpassed none of my neighbors. I do not build grandly, I have not bought vast tracts of land, I am not escorted by lictors who strike and frighten, I make no great promises, and I have taken no revenge on any enemy.
What swelling, then, have you seen to provoke your insults? What informer, what prophet told you of this arrogance? I visit the emperor when summoned — never otherwise — and not frequently. Once admitted, I listen to him speak (for he is a Siren), and whatever he utters is no less valuable than a treatise. I leave with my judgment improved, encouraged to write by the emperor's own words.
These are the fruits of my visits. But as for "Remove this man from office, O Emperor, and let that one govern; grant honor to this one and strip that one of his possessions" — that belongs to Praxilla's Adonis [proverbially foolish wishes], and now truly the emperor's title has come into its own.
Still, even if I had great influence in such matters, I would have been among those who flee from pomposity, as from an unbearable burden. You would believe me justly, unless you have suffered the very thing you accuse me of and have forgotten my character.
And this too is absurd: to pray to live amid the same circumstances, yet to act in new ways unprecedented before. For remind me — what letter of yours came to us in Syria before this one? You cannot name one. So you have become a different man, and while praying to the gods to remain the same, you willingly cut a new path — one pleasing to me, but at war with your own prayers.
But may you never cease walking this path and writing. And I would like you to seek a more charitable explanation of my silence. When you receive no letter, blame the couriers for their negligence rather than immediately assuming your friend has turned bad — a friend who wished the priesthood to be yours, but was defeated by the one who got there first, whose only just claim was having come first.
Modern English rendering for readability. See the 19th-century translation or original Latin/Greek for scholarly use.