Letter 3

Quintus Aurelius SymmachusUnknown|c. 366 AD|symmachus

I'm deeply grateful to learn that you don't find my letters tasteless, and I consider it a real gift that my correspondence meets with your approval. After all, to be praised by a man who is himself praiseworthy — that's a rare harvest for one's talents.

But while that delighted me, I suspect this next part was meant as a joke: you asked me to polish anything in your own verses that might be rough. Am I really so foolish as not to see the trick? What could I possibly correct in your work — or what right would I have to try? You alone in our age have minted the coin of Latin eloquence on a Ciceronian anvil. Whatever is charming in the poets, weighty in the orators, reliable in the historians, learned in the grammarians — you've absorbed it all, the rightful heir of ancient literature. Don't try to fool me! I know the old saying: "The pig teaching Minerva."

You're a master of epic, no less skilled at blowing the trumpet of prose. And yet you'd have me believe that you, equally great in oratory and in verse, actually need my help? That's not fair, and I take no pleasure in false flattery.

Meanwhile, if you'll lend me your ear, here's what I've been up to lately. I was enjoying some quiet time at Baiae, away from prying eyes. When word arrived that various nobodies were gathering there, I took great care to keep my sober solitude from being spoiled by common company. First I withdrew to Naples, then shortly after to Beneventum. There I was received with the highest honors and such warm civic applause that I began to feel burdened by the attention — for hospitality that can't be repaid becomes a weight. The city is large, and yet each of its leading men seemed to me greater than the city itself: deeply devoted to literature, admirable in character. Most of them honor the gods. They pour out private wealth in a race to beautify their city. Ever since the earthquake, they've been left with almost nothing, but their shattered fortunes found spirits unbroken. Everyone vies to do his civic duty; night is joined to day in the effort. And so I was anxious to leave sooner rather than later, lest those devoted to me miss their work on my account, or the doubled burden of hosting wear them out.

And so I've returned to the Bay of Baiae — by now the crowds had gone — and from here I send you my greetings, along with the news that, God willing, we'll be heading home soon. Whether that promise holds remains to be seen. But in the meantime, do write often, as if I'll be away much longer.

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

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