Letter 14

UnknownFaustus of Riez|c. 504 AD|ennodius pavia
barbarian invasionillness

Faustus, from Ennodius.

I would prefer, I confess, not to open the causes of my delays, lest my heart, now belatedly restored to peace and joy, be disturbed again by a sorrowful account, and lest I find in the telling a renewed beginning for my grief. For the man who does not shrink from reviewing past anguish once it is over nearly deserves it. Who would revive anxieties that have been brought to their conclusion by the untimely compulsion of speech? But between us and the nature of things there is a bond of trust, to which sincerity in recounting, from whatever cause, is owed.

I willingly endure the stings of recalled sorrow, provided nothing is lost to truth; and lest through a weakness of tender mind I dishonor my page with falsehood, I freely bear what I report. The health of the holy bishop your father was brought nearly to the point of doubt, and although the whole Church wept during his illness, a special grief afflicted me, who owe more to his love. I saw the peace of the city, under the pressure of discord, crossing the threshold of our town and slipping from our sight like some uncertain or wandering divinity. But let a brief narrative suffice for sorrows.

Now the longed-for health of the holy father breathes again toward recovery. For as soon as my mind returned to safe harbor, it immediately heeded your commands. I have dispatched servants to inform me faithfully about the welfare of your Eminence and of the whole holy household. I hang in suspense again, stretched between hope and fear in uncertain estimation — I who must be anxious about the welfare of another parent. Who can match my cares? Who can equal the turmoil of one pulled in such different directions?

But these things are more justly referred to God, whose mercy it is to surpass the prayers of suppliants and to prepare a harbor for tossing desires. Meanwhile I return to the practice of complaints. I suggest that your letters ought to have followed me at once, and that something written should have been sent for my comfort, at least on account of a recent request — lest my mind should have hung in uncertainty about your departure, without word.

But I trust this fault can be mended by frequency of correspondence.

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

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