Letter 77: "You have come! Well done!

To the Same "Thou hast come! well hast thou done!" You have indeed come, even though absent, by means of your letter—"And I was yearning for thee, and thou didst set ablaze my heart, already aflame with longing for thee." 2 Nay, I neither refuse the love-philtre nor do I ever leave you at all, but with my soul I behold you as though you were present, and am with you when absent, and nothing is enough to quench my insatiate desire. Moreover, you also never slacken, but without ceasing you benefit those who are present with you and by your letters not only cheer but even heal those who are absent. At any rate, when someone not long ago gave me the news that a friend had come and brought letters from you, it happened that for three days I had been suffering from a disorder of the stomach, and in fact I was in acute physical pain, so that I was not even free from fever. But, as I said, when I was told that the person who had the letters was at my door I jumped up like one possessed, who has lost control of himself, and rushed out before what I wanted could arrive. And the moment that I merely took the letter in my hands, I swear by the very gods and by the love that burns in me for you, that instant my pains forsook me and at once the fever let me go, as though it were abashed by some manifest saving presence. But when I broke the seal and read the letter, can you imagine what feelings took possession of my soul at that moment or with what delight I was filled, or how I praised to the skies that dearest of winds,1 to quote your words, the lover's wind in very truth, the messenger of glad tidings—and loved it with good reason, since it had done me this service of bringing a letter from you, and like a winged thing had guided straight to me, with a fair and hurrying blast, that letter which brought me not only the pleasure of hearing good news of you but also salvation at your hands in my own illness? But how could I describe my other sensations when first I read the letter, or how could I find adequate words to betray my own passion? How often did I hark back from the middle to the beginning? How often did I fear that I should finish it before I was aware? How often, as though I were going round in a circle in the evolutions of a strophe,1 did I try to connect the contents of the last paragraph with the first, just as though in a song set to music I were making the leading note of the beginning the same as the closing bars of the measure? Or how describe what I did next—how often I held the letter to my lips, as mothers embrace their children, how often I kissed it with those lips as though I were embracing my dearest sweetheart, how often I invoked and kissed and held to my eyes even the superscription which had been signed by your own hand as though by a clear cut seal, and how I clung to the imprint of the letters as I should to the fingers of that sacred right hand of yours! I too "wish thee joy in full measure," 2 as fair Sappho says, and not only " for just so long as we have been parted from one another," but may you rejoice evermore, and write to me and remember me with kindly thoughts. For no time shall ever pass by me in which I shall forget you, in any place, at any hour, in any word I speak. "But if ever Zeus permits me to return to my native land," 3 and once more I humbly approach that sacred hearth of yours, do not spare me hereafter as you would a runaway, but fetter me, if you will, to your own beloved dwelling, making me captive like a deserter from the Muses, and then discipline me with such penalties as suffice for my punishment. Assuredly I shall submit to your jurisdiction not unwillingly, but with a good will and gladly, as to a kind father's provident and salutary correction. Moreover, if you would consent to trust me to sentence myself and allow me to suffer the penalty that I prefer, I would gladly fasten myself to your tunic, my noble friend, so that I might never for a moment leave your side but be with you always and closely attached to you wherever you are, like those two-bodied beings invented in the myths. Unless, indeed, in this case also the myths, though they tell us the story in jest, are describing in enigmatical words an extraordinary sort of friendship and by that close tie of a common being express the kinship of soul in both beings.1 2 The quotations are from an ode of Sappho and perhaps run through the whole letter; see critical note. 1 An echo of Sophocles, Philoctetes 237. 1 e.g. in the chorus of the drama. 2 Frag. 85, Bergk.  3 Odyssey 4. 475. 1 For Julian's allegorising interpretation of myths see Oration, 5. 170; 7. 216c, 222c; and for the illustration here Lucian, Toxaris 62.

To the Same "Thou hast come! well hast thou done!" You have indeed come, even though absent, by means of your letter—"And I was yearning for thee, and thou didst set ablaze my heart, already aflame with longing for thee." 2 Nay, I neither refuse the love-philtre nor do I ever leave you at all, but with my soul I behold you as though you were present, and am with you when absent, and nothing is enough to quench my insatiate desire. Moreover, you also never slacken, but without ceasing you benefit those who are present with you and by your letters not only cheer but even heal those who are absent. At any rate, when someone not long ago gave me the news that a friend had come and brought letters from you, it happened that for three days I had been suffering from a disorder of the stomach, and in fact I was in acute physical pain, so that I was not even free from fever. But, as I said, when I was told that the person who had the letters was at my door I jumped up like one possessed, who has lost control of himself, and rushed out before what I wanted could arrive. And the moment that I merely took the letter in my hands, I swear by the very gods and by the love that burns in me for you, that instant my pains forsook me and at once the fever let me go, as though it were abashed by some manifest saving presence. But when I broke the seal and read the letter, can you imagine what feelings took possession of my soul at that moment or with what delight I was filled, or how I praised to the skies that dearest of winds,1 to quote your words, the lover's wind in very truth, the messenger of glad tidings—and loved it with good reason, since it had done me this service of bringing a letter from you, and like a winged thing had guided straight to me, with a fair and hurrying blast, that letter which brought me not only the pleasure of hearing good news of you but also salvation at your hands in my own illness? But how could I describe my other sensations when first I read the letter, or how could I find adequate words to betray my own passion? How often did I hark back from the middle to the beginning? How often did I fear that I should finish it before I was aware? How often, as though I were going round in a circle in the evolutions of a strophe,1 did I try to connect the contents of the last paragraph with the first, just as though in a song set to music I were making the leading note of the beginning the same as the closing bars of the measure? Or how describe what I did next—how often I held the letter to my lips, as mothers embrace their children, how often I kissed it with those lips as though I were embracing my dearest sweetheart, how often I invoked and kissed and held to my eyes even the superscription which had been signed by your own hand as though by a clear cut seal, and how I clung to the imprint of the letters as I should to the fingers of that sacred right hand of yours! I too "wish thee joy in full measure," 2 as fair Sappho says, and not only " for just so long as we have been parted from one another," but may you rejoice evermore, and write to me and remember me with kindly thoughts. For no time shall ever pass by me in which I shall forget you, in any place, at any hour, in any word I speak. "But if ever Zeus permits me to return to my native land," 3 and once more I humbly approach that sacred hearth of yours, do not spare me hereafter as you would a runaway, but fetter me, if you will, to your own beloved dwelling, making me captive like a deserter from the Muses, and then discipline me with such penalties as suffice for my punishment. Assuredly I shall submit to your jurisdiction not unwillingly, but with a good will and gladly, as to a kind father's provident and salutary correction. Moreover, if you would consent to trust me to sentence myself and allow me to suffer the penalty that I prefer, I would gladly fasten myself to your tunic, my noble friend, so that I might never for a moment leave your side but be with you always and closely attached to you wherever you are, like those two-bodied beings invented in the myths. Unless, indeed, in this case also the myths, though they tell us the story in jest, are describing in enigmatical words an extraordinary sort of friendship and by that close tie of a common being express the kinship of soul in both beings.1 2 The quotations are from an ode of Sappho and perhaps run through the whole letter; see critical note. 1 An echo of Sophocles, Philoctetes 237. 1 e.g. in the chorus of the drama. 2 Frag. 85, Bergk.  3 Odyssey 4. 475. 1 For Julian's allegorising interpretation of myths see Oration, 5. 170; 7. 216c, 222c; and for the illustration here Lucian, Toxaris 62.

[Πρός: Τῷ αὐτῷ] Ἦλθες κάλ’ ἐπόησας· ἦλθες γὰρ δὴ καὶ ἀπὼν οἷς γράφεις· "ἐγὼ δέ σε μαόμαν, ἂν δ’ ἔφλεξας ἐμὰν φρένα καιομέναν πόθῳ." οὔκουν οὔτε ἀρνοῦμαι τὸ φίλτρον οὔτε ἀπολείπω σε κατ’ οὐδέν ἀλλὰ καὶ ὡς παρόντα τῇ ψυχῇ θεωρῶ καὶ ἀπόντι σύνειμι, καὶ οὐδὲν ἱκανόν ἐστί μοι πρὸς κόρον ἀρκέσαι. καίτοι σύ γε οὐκ ἀνίης καὶ παρόντας εὖ ποιῶν ἀεὶ καὶ ἀπόντας οὐκ εὐφραίνων μόνον οἷς γράφεις, ἀλλὰ καὶ σώζων. ὅτε γοῦν ἀπήγειλέ μοί τις ἔναγχος, ὡς παρὰ σοῦ γράμματα κομίσας ἑταῖρος ἥκοι, ἐτύγχανον μὲν ἐν ἀηδίᾳ τοῦ στομάχου τριταῖος ἤδη καθεστὼς καί τι καὶ περιαλγῶς ἔχων τοῦ σώματος, ὡς μηδὲ ἔξω πυρετοῦ μεῖναι· σημανθὲν δέ, ὡς ἔφην, ὅτι μοι πρὸς ταῖς θύραις ὁ τὰ γράμματα ἔχων εἴη, ἐγὼ μὲν ὥσπερ τις ἀκρατὴς ἑαυτοῦ καὶ κάτοχος ἀναπηδήσας ᾖξα πρὶν ὅ τι δέοι παρεῖναι. ἐπεὶ δὲ καὶ ἔλαβον εἰς χεῖρας τὴν ἐπιστολὴν μόνον, ὀμνύω τοὺς θεοὺς αὐτοὺς καὶ τὸν ἐπὶ σοί με ἀνάψαντα πόθον, ὡς ἅμα τε ἔφυγον οἱ πόνοι καί με καὶ ὁ πυρετὸς ἀνῆκεν εὐθύς, ὥσπερ τινὶ τοῦ σωτῆρος ἐναργεῖ παρουσίᾳ δυσωπούμενος. ὡς δὲ καὶ λύσας ἀνέγνων, τίνα με ἡγῇ ψυχὴν ἐσχηκέναι τότε ἢ πόσης ἡδονῆς ἀνάπλεων γεγενῆσθαι, τὸν φίλτατον, ὡς φής, ἀνέμων, τὸν ἐρωτικὸν ἀληθῶς, τὸν διάκονον τῶν καλῶν ὑπερεπαινοῦντά τε καὶ φιλοῦντα δικαίως, ὅτι μοι τῶν παρὰ σοῦ γραμμάτων ὑπηρέτης γέγονεν, οἱονεὶ πτηνοῦ δίκην ἡμῖν τὴν ἐπιστολὴν διευθύνας οὐρίῳ τε καὶ πομπίμῳ πνεύματι, δι’ ἧς οὐ μόνον ὑπῆρξεν ἡσθῆναί μοι τὰ εἰκότα περὶ σοῦ γνόντι, ἀλλὰ καὶ αὐτῷ κάμνοντι παρὰ σοῦ σωθῆναι; τά γε μὴν ἄλλα πῶς ἃ πρῶτον πρὸς τὴν ἐπιστολὴν ἔπαθον εἴποιμ’ ἄν, ἢ πῶς ἂν ἀρκούντως ἐμαυτοῦ τὸν ἔρωτα καταμηνύσαιμι; ποσάκις ἀνέδραμον εἰς ἀρχὴν ἐκ μέσου; ποσάκις ἔδεισα μὴ πληρώσας λάθω; ποσάκις ὥσπερ ἐν κύκλῳ τινὶ καὶ στροφῆς περιόδῳ τοῦ συμπεράσματος τὸ πλήρωμα πρὸς τὴν ἀρχὴν ἀνεῖλκον, οἷον ἐν ᾄσματι μουσικῷ ταὐτὸν τοῦ ῥυθμοῦ τῷ τέλει τὸ πρὸς τὴν ἀρχὴν ἡγούμενον μέλος ἀντιδιδούς· ἢ καὶ νὴ Δία τὰ ἑξῆς τούτων, ὁσάκις μὲν τῷ στόματι τὴν ἐπιστολὴν προσήγαγον, ὥσπερ αἱ μητέρες τὰ παιδία περιπλέκονται, ὁσάκις δὲ ἐνέφυν τῷ στόματι καθάπερ ἐρωμένην ἐμαυτοῦ φιλτάτην ἀσπαζόμενος, ὁσάκις δὲ τὴν ἐπιγραφὴν αὐτήν, ἣ χειρὶ σῇ καθάπερ ἐναργεῖ σφραγῖδι ἐσεσήμαντο, προσειπὼν καὶ φιλήσας, εἶτα ἐπέβαλον τοῖς ὀφθαλμοῖς, οἱονεὶ τοῖς τῆς ἱερᾶς ἐκείνης δεξιᾶς δακτύλοις τῷ τῶν γραμμάτων ἴχνει προσπεφυκώς. χαῖρε δὲ καὶ αὐτὸς ἡμῖν πολλά, καθάπερ ἡ καλὴ Σαπφώ φησι, καὶ οὐκ ἰσάριθμα μόνον τῷ χρόνῳ, ὃν ἀλλήλων ἀπελείφθημεν, ἀλλὰ γὰρ καὶ ἀεὶ χαῖρε, καὶ γράφε καὶ μέμνησο ἡμῶν τὰ εἰκότα. ὡς ἡμᾶς γε οὐκ ἐπιλείψει χρόνος, ἐν ᾧ σε μὴ πάντη καὶ ἐν παντὶ καιρῷ καὶ λόγῳ διὰ μνήμης ἕξομεν. ἀλλ’ ἡμῖν εἴ ποθι Ζεὺς δοίη ἱκέσθαι ἐς πατρίδα γαῖαν, καί σου τὴν ἱερὰν ἐκείνην ἑστίαν αὖθις ὑπέλθοιμεν, μὴ φείσῃ λοιπὸν ὡς φυγάδος, ἀλλὰ δῆσον, εἰ δοκεῖ, πρὸς τοῖς σεαυτοῦ θώκοις τοῖς φιλτάτοις, ὥσπερ τινὰ Μουσῶν λιποτάκτην ἑλών, εἶτα τοῖς εἰς τιμωρίαν ἀρκοῦσι παιδεύων. πάντως οὐδὲ ἄκων ὑποστήσομαι τὴν δίκην, ἀλλ’ ἑκὼν δὴ καὶ χαίρων, ὥσπερ ἀγαθοῦ πατρὸς ἐπανόρθωσιν προμηθῆ καὶ σωτήριον. εἰ δὲ δή μοι καὶ κατ’ ἐμαυτοῦ τὴν κρίσιν ἐθέλοις πιστεῦσαι καὶ διδοίης ἐνεγκεῖν ἣν βούλομαι, ἐμαυτόν, ὦ γενναῖε, τῷ σῷ χιτωνίσκῳ προσάψαιμι ἂν ἡδέως, ἵνα σου κατὰ μηδὲν ἀπολειποίμην, ἀλλὰ συνείην ἀεὶ καὶ πανταχῆ προσφεροίμην, ὥσπερ οὓς οἱ μῦθοι διφυεῖς ἀνθρώπους πλάττουσιν. εἰ μὴ κἀκεῖνο οἱ μῦθοι λέγουσι μὲν ὡς παίζοντες, αἰνίττονται δὲ εἰς τὸ τῆς φιλίας ἐξαίρετον, ἐν τῷ τῆς κοινωνίας δεσμῷ τὸ δι’ ἑκατέρου τῆς ψυχῆς ὁμογενὲς ἐμφαίνοντες.