To the Philosopher [Hypatia].
I am dictating this letter from my bed. May you receive it in good health — mother, sister, teacher, and benefactress, and everything else that is honored in name and deed.
Bodily weakness has followed in the wake of my mental suffering. The memory of my dead children is consuming what remains of my strength, little by little.
[This brief, devastating letter — one of the last Synesius wrote to Hypatia before his own death around 413 — captures the depth of his losses: his children dead, his body failing, his province in ruins, and the person he most admires and loves separated from him by distance.]
Letter 16: A farewell
[1] To the Philosopher note [Hypatia.]
I am dictating this letter to you from my bed, but may you receive it in good health, mother, sister, teacher, and withal benefactress, and whatsoever is honored in name and deed. [2] For me bodily weakness has followed in the wake of mental sufferings. The remembrance of my departed children is consuming my forces, little by little. Only so long should Synesius have lived as he was still without experience of the evils of life. It is as if a torrent long pent up had bust upon me in full volume, and as if the sweetness of life had vanished. May I either cease to live, or cease to think of the tomb of my sons! [3] But may you preserve your health and give my salutations to your happy comrades in turn, beginning with father Theotecnus and brother Athanasius, and so to all! And if any one has been added to these, so long as he is dear to you, I must owe him gratitude because he is dear to you, and to that man give my greetings as to my own dearest friend. If any of my affairs interests you, you do well, and if any of them does not so interest you, neither does it me.
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To the Philosopher [Hypatia].
I am dictating this letter from my bed. May you receive it in good health — mother, sister, teacher, and benefactress, and everything else that is honored in name and deed.
Bodily weakness has followed in the wake of my mental suffering. The memory of my dead children is consuming what remains of my strength, little by little.
[This brief, devastating letter — one of the last Synesius wrote to Hypatia before his own death around 413 — captures the depth of his losses: his children dead, his body failing, his province in ruins, and the person he most admires and loves separated from him by distance.]