Letter 349: Will you not give over, Basil, packing this sacred haunt of the Muses with Cappadocians, and these redolent of the frost and snow and all Cappadocia's good things? They have almost made me a Cappadocian too, always chanting their I salute you. I must endure, since it is Basil who commands.
Libanius to Basil.
Will you never stop filling this sacred home of the Muses with Cappadocians — people who reek of frost and snow and all of Cappadocia's finest qualities? They have nearly made a Cappadocian out of me as well, forever chanting their "I salute you."
I will endure it, since Basil commands it. But know this: I am making a careful study of their manners and customs, and I intend to transform these men into the refinement and harmony of my Calliope [the Muse of eloquence — Libanius's way of saying his rhetorical school], so that they may seem to you to have been turned from pigeons into doves.
Human translation — New Advent (NPNF / ANF series)
Latin / Greek Original
[Πρός: Λιβάνιος Βασιλείῳ]
Οὐ παύσῃ, Βασίλειε, τὸν ἱερὸν τοῦτον τῶν Μουσῶν σηκὸν μεστὸν ποιῶν Καππαδοκῶν, καὶ ταῦτα ἀποζόντων γριτῆς καὶ χιόνος καὶ τῶν ἐκεῖθεν καλῶν; μικροῦ δέ με καὶ Καππαδόκην ἔθηκαν, ἀεί μοι τὸ προσκυνῶ σε προσᾴδοντες. δεῖ δὲ ὅμως ἀνέχεσθαι, Βασιλείου κελεύοντος. ἴσθι τοίνυν, ὡς τῆς μὲν χώρας τοὺς τρόπους ἐξακριβάζω, τὴν δὲ εὐγένειαν καὶ τὸ ἐμμελὲς τῆς ἐμῆς Καλλιόπης μεταμφιάσω τοὺς ἄνδρας, ἵνʼ ὀφθεῖεν ὑμῖν ἀντὶ φασσῶν περιστεραί.
Related Letters
Since you do take my jokes kindly, I send you the rest. My prelude is from Homer. Come now and change your theme, And sing of the inner adornment.
I know you will often write, Here is another Cappadocian for you! I expect that you will send me many. I am sure that you are everywhere putting pressure on both fathers and sons by all your complimentary expressions about me.
To Basil [most scholars identify this as Basil of Caesarea, later one of the great Cappadocian Fathers of the...
Now I recognise men's description of me! Basil has praised me, and I am hailed victor over all! Now that I have received your vote, I am entitled to walk with the proud gait of a man who haughtily looks down on all the world.
(Written about the same time, in reply to another letter now lost.) I do not like being joked about Tiberina and its mud and its winters, O my friend, who are so free from mud, and who walk on tiptoe, and trample on the plains. You who have wings and are borne aloft, and fly like the arrows of Abaris, in order that, Cappadocian though you are, y...