Letter 60014: I can hardly believe that, than which nothing can be more certain.

I can hardly believe that, than which nothing can be more certain. Departing from you, in obedience to your order, and on an urgent occasion, I am both willingly and unwillingly absent from you. For I think that I could be sooner negligent of my life than of your commands. Any labours, however great, seem trifles; however small, when desired to undertake them for you, I have been accustomed to think them sweeter than ambrosia. To this it is owing that, were you to command me, I would depart not only from you but from myself. But as I consider you as my deity, without you nothing seems pleasing. You constantly occur to my mind: whatever I hear repeats the voice of Julian; whatever I see reflects the image of my venerable deity. And when a sweet slumber refreshes my languid limbs, you seem so present to me that by the kindness of the immortal gods, separated and loosed from my body, my mind seems to fly to you, to embrace, address, in short to worship you; so that if I were to be deprived of life I would wish that to be my last day. Farther, that I may no longer be thus tormented, I entreat you to give me your permission to return to you, and in your presence to adore your deity, which absent I at once admire and venerate. If not, as by your indulgence it may be effected, I could easily be content to be banished not only from the city I so much love but also from the world.

I can scarce believe that, than which nothing can be more certain. Departing from you, in obedience to your order, and on an urgent occasion, I am both willingly and unwillingly absent from you. For I think that I could be sooner negligent of my life than of your commands. Any labours, however great, seem trifles; however small, when desired to undertake them for you, I have been accustomed to think them sweeter than ambrosia. To this it is owing that, were you to command me, I would depart not only from you but from myself. But as I consider you as my deity, without you nothing seems pleasing. You constantly occur to my mind: whatever I hear repeats the voice of Julian; whatever I see reflects the image of my venerable deity. And when a sweet slumber refreshes my languid limbs, you seem so present to me that by the kindness of the immortal gods, separated and loosed from my body, my mind seems to fly to you, to embrace, address, in short to worship you; so that if I were to be deprived of life I would wish that to be my last day. Farther, that I may no longer be thus tormented, I entreat you to give me your permission to return to you, and in your presence to adore your deity, which absent I at once admire and venerate. If not, as by your indulgence it may be effected, I could easily be content to be banished not only from the city I so much love but also from the world. This also is published only in Latin by Zambicari. It is the 14th of his 2nd book. This text was transcribed by Roger Pearse, 2007. All material on this page is in the public domain - copy freely. The text comes from "Select works of Julian", vol. 1. This is available for download at Google Books, so I have not felt it necessary to reproduce page numbers etc. The letter numbering is from Wolfius except where specified. Comments have been abbreviated or rephrased. Commas have been omitted where unnecessary. A few words have been modified where confusion would have been involved to a modern reader -- e.g. accosted becomes addressed, etc. The last two letters are forgeries by Zambicari, I understand. Greek text is rendered using unicode. Early Church Fathers - Additional Texts