To Anatolius. (359)
Your habit of mocking the sophists is old and well-established, and apparently the Pythia [the oracle at Delphi] must suffer the same treatment, so that your behavior suits your youthful image. Well then, the sophists and the Pythia say to you: "May you never stop mocking what deserves to be honored."
As for me, I trusted in your friendship and wrote to you, promising you would be treated well -- asking nothing beyond your means, only the sort of thing you scattered daily to people both worthy and unworthy alike. But instead of helping, you sent me a letter full of jokes. I took that as a sign that the time had come to stop writing, whether for favors or anything else.
When you recovered from your illness, I was as glad as the man who recovered himself. But it was perfectly possible to be glad without writing, and anyone who did not write was not necessarily unglad. Just as among those who did write there were surely some who felt no real joy, so too one could rejoice in silence.
You wanted flattery, not genuine friendship. And when you say you do not know why I stopped writing, this second insult surpasses the first...
**To Anatolius** (359 AD)
Mocking sophists has long been your habit, and now the Pythia too must suffer the same treatment — all so that you may act in a manner befitting your new rank. Well then, both the sophists and the Pythia say to you: may you never cease mocking what deserves to be honored.
For my part, believing that you held me in affection, I used to write to you and promised myself some kindness in return, asking nothing beyond your power — only the sort of favors you scattered daily upon the worthy and unworthy alike. But when, instead of acting on my behalf, you sent me a letter full of jesting, I judged the time had come to write no more, whether for a favor or for any other reason.
When you escaped your illness, I rejoiced no less than you who escaped it. But surely one could rejoice without writing, and it does not follow that whoever did not write did not rejoice. Just as among those who did write that they were glad, one might perhaps find someone who was not truly glad, so too it was possible to rejoice in silence.
What you wanted was a flatterer, not someone who rejoiced out of genuine friendship. And when you claim not to know why I stopped writing, you surpass the first insult with a second — for at the time you did not think me worthy of your attention, and now you do not even realize that you neglected me.
You have suffered from something not uncommon among those in power. For you men of brilliant fortune do not even consider yourselves to be wronging those you wrong, believing it your right to treat others with contempt while they must everywhere grovel before you.
You see, it would have been better for you not to stir the anagyrus bush? But now, having wished to break my silence, you have broken it upon your own head, and you have learned a thing done — and this though you are no child, but a man who yields not even to Odysseus in cunning.
As for Optatus: for sending him gold you earn our praise. But that you sent a hundred staters, hoping to make him a rhetorician with gold, when you could have sent a thousand — for that you earn no praise. For if the amount you sent can do no small good, you would have helped him still more with a larger sum. Still, even this small gift is greatly valued by us, and the expenditure is being put to proper use.
Your habit of mocking the sophists is old and well-established, and apparently the Pythia [the oracle at Delphi] must suffer the same treatment, so that your behavior suits your youthful image. Well then, the sophists and the Pythia say to you: "May you never stop mocking what deserves to be honored."
As for me, I trusted in your friendship and wrote to you, promising you would be treated well -- asking nothing beyond your means, only the sort of thing you scattered daily to people both worthy and unworthy alike. But instead of helping, you sent me a letter full of jokes. I took that as a sign that the time had come to stop writing, whether for favors or anything else.
When you recovered from your illness, I was as glad as the man who recovered himself. But it was perfectly possible to be glad without writing, and anyone who did not write was not necessarily unglad. Just as among those who did write there were surely some who felt no real joy, so too one could rejoice in silence.
You wanted flattery, not genuine friendship. And when you say you do not know why I stopped writing, this second insult surpasses the first...
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.