Letter 1006: It's no use accusing me of silence — I've been scrupulous about keeping up my correspondence, and there's hardly...
It's no use accusing me of silence — I've been scrupulous about keeping up my correspondence, and there's hardly been a single stop on my travels where I've taken a holiday from this duty. And truly, the conscientious demand for letters is a pleasant thing. Complaints born of affection are sweet.
Just be aware that this nagging of yours is more a matter of devotion than of justice.
In the meantime, you've said nothing about your retreat to Praeneste [modern Palestrina], which I learned about through rumor. How I wish I could drop in on your pleasures unannounced! Fine as the charms of Campania are, it would suit me better to spend time with you and cool the summer heat with the breezes of that region.
But the family estate needs my attention everywhere I go — not to grow our income, but simply to prop up the farm's prospects against its voluntary expenses. This is what our generation has come to: the countryside, which used to feed us, now needs feeding itself.
But enough of that — I don't want a greeting turned into a complaint to spoil the pleasure of my duty. Take care of your health and write more often. When I ask for that, I earnestly promise the same. Farewell.
Modern English rendering for readability. See the 19th-century translation or original Latin/Greek for scholarly use.
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Were we asking for something unjust, and is that why we failed?