To the same person. (359)
You invited me to speak freely, promising to bear whatever I might say. But Aeschylus deters me, saying that inferiors should not be bold of tongue. And Euripides adds that the proud -- meaning your sort, no doubt -- take it badly when those beneath them speak words that cut too deep. Still, since you want an exchange, I will oblige you -- and handle both poets at once: not telling you everything, but not hiding everything either.
First, regarding the length of our letters: you complain of the brevity of mine, and I complain of the length of yours. My brevity has Sparta to vouch for it -- you yourself called my letter Laconic. But name the authorities for your wordiness. You cannot, unless you mean that rambling speaker at the assembly of the Greeks who was beaten for it.
As for your claim that your term of office is ending, I fully believe it. You seem to be going out of your mind from distress, and from going out of your mind, to be writing such things. While you were not yet expecting your office to end, you were sensible enough. You clearly wrote this while truly unable to sleep -- for there was no sleeping while facing...
**To the same correspondent.** (359)
You urged me to speak freely, promising you would bear whatever I might say. But Aeschylus warns me off, declaring that the lesser must not speak boldly. And Euripides too says that the high and mighty — meaning, I take it, people like you — take it bitterly when their inferiors best them in argument. Nevertheless, since you desire an exchange, I shall oblige you — and satisfy both poets too: not saying everything to them, yet not hiding everything from you.
First, then, concerning the length of our letters, I will say this: you complain of the brevity of mine, while I complain of the length of yours. My practice, at least, has Sparta to recommend it, and you yourself have called my letter Laconic. But name me the champions of your wordiness — you cannot, unless perhaps that babbler who wept before the assembly of the Achaeans.
That your office is coming to an end, I am entirely persuaded. For you seem driven to distraction by your distress, and driven by your distraction to write such things as these. So long as you did not expect your office to end, you kept your wits about you. And you truly wrote this while lying awake — for there was no sleeping for a man who trembles for his power.
As for Julian, he was not among our foremost students, though he would have been, had he not first spent his time in a city given over to dancing, and then bolted from us at the earliest opportunity — since he was not without natural talent for letters. Indeed, he probably lost most of what he brought with him, once he fell in with you. "From the noble, noble things come" — but I spare you the rest of the line, out of courtesy to you.
It seems to me that this too spurred him to become a soldier: he saw the consul strutting on air, thundering with a great voice, looking down on the gods, bearing down on everyone else, yet groveling before men whose very slaves are better than he is.
And so Julian fell in love with power — the same power he found you courting. Do not be surprised, then, if, so long as you remain dependent on such men for your influence, Optatus follows Julian's example.
You invited me to speak freely, promising to bear whatever I might say. But Aeschylus deters me, saying that inferiors should not be bold of tongue. And Euripides adds that the proud -- meaning your sort, no doubt -- take it badly when those beneath them speak words that cut too deep. Still, since you want an exchange, I will oblige you -- and handle both poets at once: not telling you everything, but not hiding everything either.
First, regarding the length of our letters: you complain of the brevity of mine, and I complain of the length of yours. My brevity has Sparta to vouch for it -- you yourself called my letter Laconic. But name the authorities for your wordiness. You cannot, unless you mean that rambling speaker at the assembly of the Greeks who was beaten for it.
As for your claim that your term of office is ending, I fully believe it. You seem to be going out of your mind from distress, and from going out of your mind, to be writing such things. While you were not yet expecting your office to end, you were sensible enough. You clearly wrote this while truly unable to sleep -- for there was no sleeping while facing...
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.