From: Libanius, rhetorician in Antioch
To: Philagrius, sophist
Date: ~359 AD
Context: A frank letter about a rival teacher poaching students -- addressed with warmth but also professional pride.
I was glad to receive your sons. Why wouldn't I be, when I consider them my own? As for your earlier decision [to send them elsewhere], it's better to say nothing than to attempt an apology without a strong case. After all, even if you're the cleverest of sophists, three times four is still twelve -- no matter what Philagrius tries to argue.
But let me tell you what I felt because of your decision, and I won't hide it from a friend. I have never chased after students who were running away. I never saw springs walking over to people who were thirsty -- rather, I thought that those who came to me deserved my goodwill, while those who looked elsewhere deserved to be looked past in return.
And in fact, this earned me a reputation for being rather aloof -- because I refused to stoop to anything undignified. But when your sons turned elsewhere, I admit I was stung, and I wanted the decree to be changed. Though there were more people criticizing your decision than taking it as a sign of my incompetence.
Now that you've talked yourself around and decided that sticking to the original plan wasn't the best idea after all, think nothing more of it...
To Philagrius. (359)
I was delighted to receive your sons. How could I not be, when I consider them my own? As for your earlier decision, it is better to keep silent than to seek excuses and have nothing strong to say. For even if you are the most formidable of sophists, still, three times four makes twelve, even if Philagrius tries to argue otherwise.
What I suffered on account of your decision, however, I will tell you and not hide from a friend. I have never pursued young men who were fleeing from me, for I have never seen springs go running after those who need a drink. Rather, I have always believed that goodwill is owed to those who come of their own accord, while those who look down on me deserve to be looked down on in turn.
And indeed, it is precisely for this reason that I have gained a reputation for dignity — because I never stooped to anything demeaning. Yet when your boys were turning to another teacher, I confess I was stung, and I wished that the vote had gone differently — though in truth there were more people who seized upon your judgment than those who took it as proof of my incompetence.
Now, then, since you have had a talk with yourself and concluded that it is not, after all, better to stick with your original decision, do not imagine that any appeal to us is needed — only, perhaps, an appeal to yourself on their behalf. For apart from everything else, the very faces of the young men, calling their father to mind, stir me to action.
And besides, Eutychius is a friend of yours and a kinsman of mine, and I would do wrong not to oblige him. By bringing your sons and his own brother to me, he showed himself no less devoted to them than to him.
For this reason, indeed, the rule about the summer holiday has been set aside for these boys alone, so that Eutychius may have his joy and you may have what you need.
Context:A frank letter about a rival teacher poaching students -- addressed with warmth but also professional pride.
I was glad to receive your sons. Why wouldn't I be, when I consider them my own? As for your earlier decision [to send them elsewhere], it's better to say nothing than to attempt an apology without a strong case. After all, even if you're the cleverest of sophists, three times four is still twelve -- no matter what Philagrius tries to argue.
But let me tell you what I felt because of your decision, and I won't hide it from a friend. I have never chased after students who were running away. I never saw springs walking over to people who were thirsty -- rather, I thought that those who came to me deserved my goodwill, while those who looked elsewhere deserved to be looked past in return.
And in fact, this earned me a reputation for being rather aloof -- because I refused to stoop to anything undignified. But when your sons turned elsewhere, I admit I was stung, and I wanted the decree to be changed. Though there were more people criticizing your decision than taking it as a sign of my incompetence.
Now that you've talked yourself around and decided that sticking to the original plan wasn't the best idea after all, think nothing more of it...
Modern English rendering for readability. See the 19th-century translation or original Latin/Greek for scholarly use.