Letter 9: A bantering letter to an indifferent correspondent. Of the same date as the preceding. Heliodorus, who is so dear to us both, and who loves you with an affection no less deep than my own, may have given you a faithful account of my feelings towards you; how your name is always on my lips, and how in every conversation which I have with him I be...

Letter 9: To Chrysogonus, a Monk of Aquileia (374 AD) [A playful but pointed letter to another friend who refuses to write back.] Heliodorus, who is dear to both of us and who loves you no less deeply than I do, has faithfully reported my feelings toward you: how your name is always on my lips, how in every conversation I have with him I begin by recalling the pleasant times we spent together, and go on to marvel at your humility, praise your virtue, and proclaim your holy love. Lynxes, they say, the moment they look behind them, forget what they've just seen and lose all thought of whatever their eyes no longer behold. That seems to be exactly your problem. You've so completely forgotten our shared bond of friendship that you haven't merely blurred but totally erased the writing of that epistle which, as the apostle tells us [2 Corinthians 3:2], is written on the hearts of Christians. The creatures I'm talking about lurk in the branches of leafy trees and pounce on swift deer and startled stags. Their victims flee in vain — they carry their tormentors with them, clawed and bleeding as they run. Lynxes, however, only hunt when an empty belly makes them thirsty. Once they've drunk their fill of blood and stuffed their stomachs, satiety produces forgetfulness, and they give no thought to future prey until hunger reminds them of their needs. Now in your case, it can't be that you've already had enough of me. So why are you cutting short a friendship that's barely begun? Why are you letting slip what you've hardly even grasped? But since laziness like yours is never at a loss for excuses, you'll probably claim you had nothing to write about. Even if that were true, you should have written to tell me so.

To Chrysogonus, a Monk of Aquileia A bantering letter to an indifferent correspondent. Of the same date as the preceding. Heliodorus, who is so dear to us both, and who loves you with an affection no less deep than my own, may have given you a faithful account of my feelings towards you; how your name is always on my lips, and how in every conversation which I have with him I begin by recalling my pleasant intercourse with you, and go on to marvel at your lowliness, to extol your virtue, and to proclaim your holy love. Lynxes, they say, when they look behind them, forget what they have just seen, and lose all thought of what their eyes have ceased to behold. And so it seems to be with you. For so entirely have you forgotten our joint attachment that you have not merely blurred but erased the writing of that epistle which, as the apostle tells us, 2 Corinthians 3:2 is written in the hearts of Christians. The creatures that I have mentioned lurk on branches of leafy trees and pounce on fleet roes or frightened stags. In vain their victims fly, for they carry their tormentors with them, and these rend their flesh as they run. Lynxes, however, only hunt when an empty belly makes their mouths dry. When they have satisfied their thirst for blood, and have filled their stomachs with food, satiety induces forgetfulness, and they bestow no thought on future prey till hunger recalls them to a sense of their need. Now in your case it cannot be that you have already had enough of me. Why then do you bring to a premature close a friendship which is but just begun? Why do you let slip what you have hardly as yet fully grasped? But as such remissness as yours is never at a loss for an excuse, you will perhaps declare that you had nothing to write. Had this been so, you should still have written to inform me of the fact.

> 9: Ad Chrysocomam monachum Aquileiae Qui erga te affectus meus sit, carissimus ambobus Heliodorus tibi potuit fideliter nuntiare, qui non minori te diligit amore, quam diligo, ut ego semper in ore meo nomen tuum sonem, ut ad primam quamque confabulationem iucundissimi mihi tui consortii recorder, ut humilitatem admirer, virtutem efferam, praedicem caritatem. verum tu, quod natura lynces insitum habent, ne postergum respicientes meminerint priorum et mens perdat, quod oculi videre desierint, ita nostrae necessitudinis penitus oblitus illam epistulam, quam in corde Christianorum scriptam apostolus refert [cf. 2 Cor. 3:2], non praepeti litura, sed imis, quod aiunt, ceris erasisti. et illae quidem, quas diximus, ferae sub frondente captantes arboris ramo fugaces capreas aut timidum, cervos, animal conprehendunt currentemque frustra praedam, dum hostem suum secum vehit, rabido desuper ore dilaniant et tam diu meminere praedandi, quam diu venter vacuus siccum fame guttur exasperat; ubi vero sanguine pasta feritas viscera distenta conpleverit, cum saturitate succedit oblivio tam diu nescitura, quid capiat, donec memoriam revocaverit esuries. tu necdum satiatus e nobis cur finem iungis exordio? cur amittis, antequam teneas? nisi forte neglegentiae semper excusatione socia adseras te non habuisse, quod scriberes, cum hoc ipsum debueris scribere, aliud te non habuisse, quod scriberes.