Letter 339: What could not a sophist say? And such a sophist! One whose peculiar art is, whenever he likes, to make great things small, and to give greatness to small things!
Basil of Caesarea→Libanius|c. 376 AD|basil caesarea
What could a sophist not say? And such a sophist! One whose special skill is to make great things small and small things great whenever he pleases! This is exactly what you have done with my case. That shabby little letter of mine -- as you who live amid the luxury of eloquence would probably call it, a letter no better than the one you hold in your hands right now -- you have praised to the skies, claiming to be defeated by it and awarding me the prize for composition!
You are behaving like fathers who join their children's games and let the little ones win their pretend victories -- costing the fathers nothing but giving the children's competitive spirit a boost. The delight your audience must have felt while you were joking about me must have been beyond description! It is as if some Polydamas or Milo [legendary strong men] were to decline a wrestling match with me.
After careful examination, I can find no sign of weakness in you. Those who know what exaggeration looks like are all the more astonished that you can descend in sport to my level -- more astonishing than if you had sailed a fleet over Mount Athos.
I, however, my dear sir, am now spending my time with Moses and Elijah and saints of that kind, who speak to me in a rough tongue. What I learn from them is true in substance, though unpolished in style, as my writing makes perfectly clear. If ever I possessed any of the learning I acquired from you, time has erased it. But in love for you, at least, I yield to no one.
ST. BASIL OF CAESAREA
Basil to Libanius.
What could not a sophist say? And such a sophist! One whose peculiar art is, whenever he likes, to make great things small, and to give greatness to small things! This is what you have shown in my case. That dirty little letter of mine, as, perhaps, you who live in all luxury of eloquence would call it, a letter in no way more tolerable than the one you hold in your hands now, you have so extolled as, forsooth, to be eaten by it, and to be yielding me the prize for composition! You are acting much as fathers do, when they join in their boys' games, and let the little fellows be proud of the victories which they have let them win without any loss to themselves, and with much gain to the children's emulation. Really and truly the delight your speech must have given, when you were joking about me, must have been indescribable! It is as though some Polydamas or Milo were to decline the pancratium or a wrestling bout with me! After carefully examining, I have found no sign of weakness. So those who look for exaggeration are the more astonished at your being able to descend in sport to my level, than if you had led the barbarian in full sail over Athos. I, however, my dear sir, am now spending my time with Moses and Elias, and saints like them, who tell me their stories in a barbarous tongue, and I utter what I learned from them, true, indeed, in sense, though rude in phrase, as what I am writing testifies. If ever I learned anything from you, I have forgotten it in the course of time. But do you continue to write to me, and so suggest other topics for correspondence. Your letter will exhibit you, and will not convict me. I have already introduced to you the son of Anysius, as a son of my own. If he is my son, he is the child of his father, poor, and a poor man's son. What I am saying is well known to one who is wise as well as a sophist.
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Source. Translated by Blomfield Jackson. From Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, Second Series, Vol. 8. Edited by Philip Schaff and Henry Wace. (Buffalo, NY: Christian Literature Publishing Co., 1895.) Revised and edited for New Advent by Kevin Knight. <https://www.newadvent.org/fathers/3202339.htm>.
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What could a sophist not say? And such a sophist! One whose special skill is to make great things small and small things great whenever he pleases! This is exactly what you have done with my case. That shabby little letter of mine -- as you who live amid the luxury of eloquence would probably call it, a letter no better than the one you hold in your hands right now -- you have praised to the skies, claiming to be defeated by it and awarding me the prize for composition!
You are behaving like fathers who join their children's games and let the little ones win their pretend victories -- costing the fathers nothing but giving the children's competitive spirit a boost. The delight your audience must have felt while you were joking about me must have been beyond description! It is as if some Polydamas or Milo [legendary strong men] were to decline a wrestling match with me.
After careful examination, I can find no sign of weakness in you. Those who know what exaggeration looks like are all the more astonished that you can descend in sport to my level -- more astonishing than if you had sailed a fleet over Mount Athos.
I, however, my dear sir, am now spending my time with Moses and Elijah and saints of that kind, who speak to me in a rough tongue. What I learn from them is true in substance, though unpolished in style, as my writing makes perfectly clear. If ever I possessed any of the learning I acquired from you, time has erased it. But in love for you, at least, I yield to no one.
Modern English rendering for readability. See the 19th-century translation or original Latin/Greek for scholarly use.