There were many reasons -- compelling ones -- for Argyrius's son to stay home (he prefers to be called that rather than by his own name). First, his father has reached an age you well know and inspires the kind of fear you'd expect from an old man leaning on a staff. Then there's the boy himself -- partly still performing his civic duties, partly looking ahead to the next round. He's just finishing with chariot-sponsoring and already eyeing the beast-hunts in the mountains.
Or rather, the boy himself looks at his books, lending only his body to the costumes that adorn the sponsor. The plans, the labors, the running around -- all that is the burden of Obodianus. The grandfather's job is simply to enjoy the spectacle, his exemption from toil a gift of age.
And if his body had its own vote, he'd need to stay put, since there's a real danger that the kind of travel involved could reawaken an old wound that's been quiet for some time. But one thing outweighed all these many reasons: the excellent Florentius, friend of virtue.
So breaking his chains, the old man runs to you, convinced that we'd have nothing to say for our city if, while we occupy the place held by a man with no connection to us, we neglected...
**To Florentius** (359/60)
There were many reasons urging — or rather compelling — the son of Argyrius to remain at home (for he delights in being called that more than by his proper name). First, his father, who has reached the old age you well know, inspiring the kind of fear one naturally feels for a man old enough to carry the olive branch. Then there is the boy, partly still performing his liturgies, partly about to take on new ones: for he is finishing with the chariot-racing sponsorship, but already has his eye on the mountain hunting grounds.
Or rather, the boy himself has his eye on his books, lending only his body to the garments that bring honor to the sponsor, while the planning, the toil, the running about — all of that is Obodianus's burden. As for the grandfather, his only task is to enjoy the spectacle, and his exemption from the labor is granted by his years.
And indeed, if the body could cast its own vote, he ought to have stayed quiet, since there was real danger that such a journey might rouse again an old wound now at rest. But one thing defeated those many compelling reasons: Florentius, that good man and friend of virtue.
And so, breaking his bonds, this man runs to you, believing that our city would have no standing with you if, when a man with no connection to us whatsoever held the post you now hold, ambassadors from the leading citizens went to him — yet when our own fellow citizen (for you will graciously accept the title) presides over the administration of the imperial palace, the matter should then sink to a lower level.
He has come, then, honoring both us and you. It would be fitting for you to honor both him and, through him, the city — and to persuade the man that had he refused, he would have made a poor decision.
There were many reasons -- compelling ones -- for Argyrius's son to stay home (he prefers to be called that rather than by his own name). First, his father has reached an age you well know and inspires the kind of fear you'd expect from an old man leaning on a staff. Then there's the boy himself -- partly still performing his civic duties, partly looking ahead to the next round. He's just finishing with chariot-sponsoring and already eyeing the beast-hunts in the mountains.
Or rather, the boy himself looks at his books, lending only his body to the costumes that adorn the sponsor. The plans, the labors, the running around -- all that is the burden of Obodianus. The grandfather's job is simply to enjoy the spectacle, his exemption from toil a gift of age.
And if his body had its own vote, he'd need to stay put, since there's a real danger that the kind of travel involved could reawaken an old wound that's been quiet for some time. But one thing outweighed all these many reasons: the excellent Florentius, friend of virtue.
So breaking his chains, the old man runs to you, convinced that we'd have nothing to say for our city if, while we occupy the place held by a man with no connection to us, we neglected...
AI-assisted translation — This translation was produced with AI assistance and has not been peer-reviewed. See the 19th-century translation or original Latin/Greek below for scholarly use.