Letter 382: I ran into Martialis — the good fellow — one evening; we were both on horseback.

To Honoratus. (358) I ran into Martialis — the good fellow — one evening; we were both on horseback. He recognized me first, perhaps because he has sharper eyes, or perhaps from my philosopher's cloak, and called out and dismounted. I did the same. After telling me where he had come from and where he was going, he said: 'Write to the one who loves you' — meaning you, of course. I thought he should correct that word and not speak of something long since ended as though it still existed. For I know — and have told many — that your affection for me once nearly surpassed even Aristaenetus's. When you put an end to it I can say, but why — that I cannot. For when you received your governorship here — the greater one, I mean — and I had my not entirely fortunate return (I do not complain of other things, but my body was ruined), then, when that storm arose, you were unable to do all you had planned for me, and I was deprived of many good things and experienced many hardships. Let these be charged to the times. After that, you were summoned from Cilicia to a more splendid office, and in writing to Theophilus about your departure, you added as a postscript that he should give me your greetings — my name was an appendix to a letter addressed to someone else. This first disturbed me and made me suspect that the old bond had shifted. You seemed to me, by not having written to me directly, to have changed, and by mentioning me in a letter to another, to be wanting to dissolve things gradually so that people would not be startled by the reversal. I thought I should bear even this and not yet consider everything severed. Then came the governorship of western Galatia, and the invitation to Cyrinus to share your labors, and letters to him — but none to me. What was a man to think who was once placed before everyone else, but later counted as nothing? I urged Cyrinus to comply, even though I myself was being slighted — but his fear for his son, I think, overruled my advice. And hearing of your many great achievements — for if you were so impressive in small matters, what would you have been driving so great a chariot? — I, still loving you, rejoiced with the one who had ceased to love me. Then you stepped down again to private life with the eagerness with which you always laid aside office, and passing through Bithynia, not even the place stirred you to remember me — the very place where you once received from me some small compositions, perhaps not worthless ones. But then, some time later, a Galatian arrives — a decent man, a relative of Arsacius. He had a lawsuit and needed the goodwill of the judge. He brought me a letter from you that was both yours and not yours. The handwriting was yours, I believe, but the sentiment was not — or rather, it was yours, this second version of yours. Nothing of our old familiarity was stamped upon it; it was bitter and harsh, making clear that you had been compelled to write and resented the compulsion. I found fault with the letter; he did not find fault with my willingness to help. After all this, I had resolved to keep silent — for why write to someone unwilling? — but Martialis, with his urging, would not let me refuse. If you are willing to state the real reason that changed you, you would not need many words. But if you keep hiding it, you will always be explaining and always need more words — and still you will not resolve the charge. Do you want to know what your friends have guessed?

Ὁνωράτῳ. (358) Ἐνετύχομεν ἀλλήλοις ἑσπέρας ἐγώ τε καὶ Μαρτιάλης ὁ χρηστὸς ἐφ’ ἵππων φερόμενοι, καί με πρότερος ἐπιγνούς, ἴσως μὲν ὀξύτερον ὁρῶν, ἴσως δὲ καὶ παρὰ τοῦ τρίβωνος τοῦτο λαβών, βοήσας ἀπέβη, κἀγὼ ταὐτὸ ποιῶ. εἰπὼν δὲ ὅθεν τε ἤκοι καὶ πορεύοιτο γράψον ἔφη τῷ φιλοῦντι σὲ δὴ λέγων. ἐγὼ δὲ αὐτὸν ἠξίουν διορθοῦσθαι τὸ ῥῆμα καὶ μὴ πρᾶγμα πάλαι πεπαυμένον ἔτι νῦν εἶναι λέγειν. σὺ γὰρ ὅτι μὲν τῷ πρὸς ἐμὲ φίλτρῳ μικροῦ καὶ τὸν Ἀρισταίνετον παρ- ῆλθες, οἶσά τε καὶ πολλοὺς ἐδίδαξα. τοῦτο δὲ πότε μὲν κατέ- λυσας, ἔχω λέγειν, ἀνθ’ ὅτου δέ, εἰπεῖν οὐκ ἔχω. γενο- μένῃς γὰρ σοὶ μὲν τῆς ἐνταῦθα ἀρχῆς, τῆς μείζονος λέγω, ἐμοὶ δὲ τῆς οὐ πάντα εὐτυχοῦς ἐπανόδου, — τὰ μὲν γὰρ ἄλλα οὐκ αἰτιῶμαι, τὸ σῶμα δέ μοι διόλωλε — τότ’ οὖν ἐκείνου τοῦ χειμῶνος ἐγηγερμένου σοί τε οὐχ ὑπῆρξεν ὅσα διενοοῦ πρᾶξαι περὶ ἡμᾶς ἐγώ τε πολλῶν μὲν ἀγαθῶν ἀπεστερήθην, πολλῶν δὲ δεινῶν εἰς πεῖραν ἦλθον. κείσθω δὴ ταῦτα εἶναι τοῦ και- ροῦ. μετὰ ταῦτα σὺ καλούμενος ἐκ Κιλικίας ἐπὶ λαμπρο- τέραν δύναμιν γράψας πρὸς Θεόφιλον ὡς ἀπαίροις προσπαρέ- γραψας ἐμὲ προσαγορεύειν, καὶ ἦν τοὐμὸν ὄνομα προσθήκη τῆς πρὸς ἄλλον ἐπιστολῆς τοῦτό με πρῶτον ἐτάραξε καὶ παρεῖχεν ὑπονοεῖν, ὡς ἄρα τἀρχαῖα κεκίνηται. καὶ ἐφαίνου δή μοι τῷ μὲν μὴ πρὸς ἐμὲ γεγραφέναι μεταβεβλῆσθαι, τῷ δὲ ἐν τῇ πρὸς ἄλλον ἐπιστολῇ μνησθῆναι κατὰ μικρὸν λύειν ἐθέλειν τὰ πρὸς ἐμὲ τοῦ μὴ τοὺς ἀνθρώπους ἐκπλαγῆναι τῇ μετα- στάσει. φέρειν ᾤμην δεῖν καὶ τοῦτο καῐ μήπω πάντα ἡγεῖ σθαι διακεκόφθαι Γαλατῶν ἀρχὴ τῶν ἑσπερίων, καὶ Κυ- ρἰνου κλῆσις εἰς κοινωνίαν πόνων καὶ γράμματα πρὸς ἐκεῖ- νον, ἐμοὶ δὲ οὔ. τί δὴ νομίζειν ἐχρῆν τὸν πάλαι μὲν πρὸ τῶν ἄλλων ἁπάντων, ὕστερον δὲ ἐν οὐδενὶ λόγῳ; Κυρίνῳ μὲν οὖν παρῄνουν ὑπακούειν καὶ ταῦτα ἀτιμαζόμενος, ἀλλ’, οἶμαι, τῆς ἐμῆς ἐκράτει συμβουλῆς ὁ περὶ τῷ παιδὶ φόβος. ἀκούων δέ σου τὰ πολλὰ καὶ μεγάλα, εἰ γὰρ ἐν μικροῖς σὺ μέ- ίας, τίς ἂν ἦσθα τηλικοῦτον ἅρμα ἐλαύνων; φιλῶν ἔτι τῷ λήξαντι τοῦ φιλεῖν συνηδόμην. ἐκβαίνεις δὴ πάλιν εἰς ἰδιώτην διὰ σπουδῆς, μεθ’ ἦς ἀεὶ τὸ ἄρχειν ἀπέθου, καὶ Βι- θυνίας ἐπιβὰς οὐδ’ ὑπὸ τοῦ χωρίου πρὸς μνήμην ἡμῶν ἐκι- νήθης. ἐν ᾧ δὴ χωρίῳ μικρὰς μὲν ἐδέξω παρ’ ἡμῶν ᾠδάς, ἴσως δὲ οὐ φαύλας. ἀλλὰ χρόνοις ὕστερον ἀφικνεῖταί τις Γαλάτης, ἐπιεικὴς ἄνθρωπος, Ἀρσακίου συγγενής. δίκη δὲ ἦν αὐτῷ καὶ ἔδει τῆς τοῦ κρινοῦντος εὐνοίας. οὗτός μοι κο- μίζει γράμματα σά τε καἰ οὐ σά. τῆς μὲν γὰρ σῆς ἦν, οἶμαι, χειρός, τῆς δὲ σῆς οὐκ ἦν διανοίας, μᾶλλον δὲ τῆς σῆς ταυ- τῇσί τῆς δευτέρας· οὕτως οὐδὲν τῆς συνηθείας ἐκείνης ἐνετε- τύπωτο, ἀλλὰ πικρά τε ἦν καὶ ἄγρια καὶ δηλοῦντα, ὡς ἄρα ἀναγκασθείης καὶ πρὸς τὴν ἀνάγκην ἄχθοιο. ἐγὼ μὲν οὖν ἐμεμψάμην τὴν ἐπιστολήν, ἐκεῖνος δὲ τὴν ἐμὴν οὐκ ἐμέμ- ψατο προθυμίαν. ἀπὸ τούτων ἐγνώκειν μὲν σιωπᾶν, τί γὰρ δεῖ μὴ βουλομένῳ γράφειν; Μαρτιάλης δὲ κελεύων οὐκ ἐπέ- τρεπεν ἀρνεῖσθαι. σὺ δὲ ἂν μὲν τὴν οὖσαν ἐθέλῃς αἰτίαν εἰπεῖν, ἥ σε μετέστησεν, οὐκ ἂν δέοιο μακρῶν λόγων· κρύ- πτων δὲ ἐκείνην ἀεὶ μὲν ἐρεῖς, ἀεὶ δὲ δεήσῃ λόγων. οὕτως οὐ λύσεις τὴν αἰτίαν. βούλει μαθεῖν ἃ τοῖς φίλοις εἰκά- ζοῦσι παρέστη; νομίζουσιν Εὔρυμόν τινα ταῦτα εἰργάσθαι. ὁ δὲ Εὔρυμος ἐκεῖνος διέβαλλε τῷ Κάστορι τὸν ἀδελφόν, ἀλλ’ οὐχ ὁ Κάστωρ ἐσίγησεν, ἀλλ’ ὁ μὲν ἔφρασεν, ὁ δὲ Πολυδεύ- κης ἀγαθὸς ἐγένετο πύκτης ἐπὶ τὸν Εὔρυμον.