Letter 178
To Ambrosius, Quaestor. (360)
We were not ourselves when you were visiting. That terrible time [under Emperor Constantius II's restrictions on pagan practice] was driving us to distraction -- stripping away the greatest, finest, most precious things, some already gone, with the same threat hanging over the rest.
Nor are we in our usual state even now, though it may seem so. Weeping and groaning were never part of our routine, yet that is what fills our days. The difference is only this: now we grieve in the company of friends, whereas then we could not even have that.
So if anything was overlooked in my obligations to you, if I failed even to say goodbye before you left, put it down to the storm that was then raging over everything. Sailors, after all, have been known to pass a sacred headland where they usually sacrifice, unable to land because of a gale.
To anyone else I would need many words to explain what the pressure of circumstances can do. But you, who have philosophized about such things endlessly in fiction and not a little in real life -- you could teach me about circumstance rather than learn about it. So I will spare you the apology for what must have looked like negligence. If anyone blames me, you resolve it.
As for this young man, your fellow citizen -- why should I urge you on his behalf? You know his family and his character, and knowing these things, you will not allow a friend to receive more kindness from someone else than from you.
Modern English rendering for readability. See the 19th-century translation or original Latin/Greek for scholarly use.