Letter CCCXXXVI
1. After some little time a young Cappadocian has reached me. One gain to me is that he is a Cappadocian. But this Cappadocian is one of the first rank. This is another gain. Further, he brings me a letter from the admirable Basil. This is the greatest gain of all. You think that I have forgotten you. I had great respect for you in your youth. I saw you vying with old men in self-restraint, and this in a city teeming with pleasures. I saw you already in possession of considerable learning. Then you thought that you ought also to see Athens, and you persuaded Celsus to accompany you. Happy Celsus, to be dear to you! Then you returned, and lived at home, and I said to myself, What, I wonder, is Basil about now? To what occupation has he betaken himself? Is he following the ancient orators, and practising in the courts? Or is he turning the sons of fortunate fathers into orators? Then there came those who reported to me that you were adopting a course of life better than any of these, and were, rather, bethinking you how you might win the friendship of God than heaps of gold, I blessed both you and the Cappadocians; you, for making this your aim; them, for being able to point to so noble a fellow-countryman.
2. I am aware that the Firmus, whom you mention, has continually won everywhere; hence his great power as a speaker. But with all the eulogies that have been bestowed on him, I am not aware that he has ever received such praise as I have heard of in your letter. For what a credit it is to him, that it should be you who declare that his reputation is inferior to none!
Apparently, you have despatched this young man to me before seeing Firminus; had you done so, your letters would not have failed to mention him. What is Firminus now doing or intending to do? Is he still anxious to be married? Or is all that over now? Are the claims of the senate heavy on him? Is he obliged to stay where he is? Is there any hope of his taking to study again ? Let him send me an answer, and I trust it may be satisfactory. If it be a distressing one, at least it will relieve him from seeing me at his door. And if Firminus had been now at Athens, what would your senators have done? Would they have sent the Salaminia after him? You see that it is only by your fellow-countrymen that I am wronged. Yet I shall never cease to love and praise the Cappadocians. I should like them to be better disposed to me, but, if they continue to act as they do, I shall bear it. Firminus was four months with me, and was not a day idle. You will know how much he has acquired, and perhaps will not complain. As to his being able to come here again, what ally can I call in? If your senators are right-minded, as men of education ought to be, they will honour me in the second case, since they grieved me in the first.
Basil to Libanius
Letter CCCXXXVII
Lo and behold, yet another Cappadocian has come to you; a son of my own! Yet my present position makes all men my sons. On this ground he may be regarded as a brother of the former one, and worthy of the same attention alike from me his father, and from you his instructor—if really it is possible for these young men, who come from me, to obtain any further favours. I do not mean that it is not possible for your excellency to give anything more to your old comrades, but because your services are so lavishly bestowed upon all. It will be sufficient for the lad before he gets experience if he be numbered among those who are intimately known to you. I trust you may send him back to me worthy of my prayers and of your great reputation in learning and eloquence. He is accompanied by a young man of his own age, and of like zeal for instruction; a youth of good family, and closely associated with myself. I am sure he will be in every way as well treated, though his means are smaller than is the case with the rest.
Libanius to Basil
Letter CCCXXXVIII
I know you will often write, “Here is another Cappadocian for you!” I expect that you will send me many. I am sure that you are everywhere putting pressure on both fathers and sons by all your complimentary expressions about me. But it would not be kind on my part not to mention what happened about your good letter. There were sitting with me not a few of our people of distinction, and among them the very excellent Alypius, Hierocles’ cousin. The messengers gave in the letter. I read it right through without a word; then with a smile, and evidently gratified, I exclaimed, “I am vanquished!” “How? When? Where?” they asked. “How is it that you are not distressed at being vanquished?” “I am beaten,” I replied, “in beautiful letter writing. Basil has won. But I love him; and so I am delighted.” On hearing this, they all wanted to hear of the victory from the letter itself. It was read by Alypius, while all listened. It was voted that what I had said was quite true. Then the reader went out, with the letter still in his hand, to shew it, I suppose, to others. I had some difficulty in getting it back. Go on writing others like it; go on winning. This is for me to win. You are quite right in thinking that my services are not measured by money. Enough for him who has nothing to give, that he is as wishful to receive. If I perceive any one who is poor to be a lover of learning, he takes precedence of the rich. True, I never found such instructors; but nothing shall stand in the way of my being, at least in that respect, an improvement on mine. Let no one, then, hesitate to come hither because he is poor, if only he possesses the one qualification of knowing how to work.
Basil to Libanius
Letter CCCXXXIX
What could not a sophist say? And such a sophist! One whose peculiar art is, whenever he likes, to make great things small, and to give greatness to small things! This is what you have shewn in my case. That dirty little letter of mine, as, perhaps, you who live in all luxury of eloquence would call it, a letter in no way more tolerable than the one you hold in your hands now, you have so extolled as, forsooth, to be eaten by it, and to be yielding me the prize for composition! You are acting much as fathers do, when they join in their boys’ games, and let the little fellows be proud of the victories which they have let them win without any loss to themselves, and with much gain to the children’s emulation. Really and truly the delight your speech must have given, when you were joking about me, must have been indescribable! It is as though some Polydamas or Milo were to decline the pancratium or a wrestling bout with me! After carefully examining, I have found no sign of weakness. So those who look for exaggeration are the more astonished at your being able to descend in sport to my level, than if you had led the barbarian in full sail over Athos. I, however, my dear sir, am now spending my time with Moses and Elias, and saints like them, who tell me their stories in a barbarous tongue, and I utter what I learnt from them, true, indeed, in sense, though rude in phrase, as what I am writing testifies. If ever I learned anything from you, I have forgotten it in the course of time. But do you continue to write to me, and so suggest other topics for correspondence. Your letter will exhibit you, and will not convict me. I have already introduced to you the son of Anysius, as a son of my own. If he is my son, he is the child of his father, poor, and a poor man’s son. What I am saying is well known to one who is wise as well as a sophist.
Libanius to Basil
Letter CCCXL
Had you been for a long time considering how best you could reply to my letter about yours, you could not in my judgment have acquitted yourself better than by writing as you have written now. You call me a sophist, and you allege that it is a sophist’s business to make small things great and great things small. And you maintain that the object of my letter was to prove yours a good one, when it was not a good one, and that it was no better than the one which you have sent last, and, in a word that you have no power of expression, the books which you have now in hand producing no such effect, and the eloquence which you once possessed having all disappeared. Now, in the endeavour to prove this, you have made this epistle too, which you are reviling, so admirable, that my visitors could not refrain from leaping with admiration as it was being read. I was astonished that after your trying to run down the former one by this, by saying that the former one was like it, you have really complimented the former by it. To carry out your object, you ought to have made this one worse, that you might slander the former. But it is not like you, I think, to do despite to the truth. It would have been done despite to, if you had purposely written badly, and not put out the powers you have. It would be characteristic of you not to find fault with what is worthy of praise, lest in your attempt to make great things insignificant, your proceedings reduce you to the rank of the sophists. Keep to the books which you say are inferior in style, though better in sense. No one hinders you. But of the principles which are ever mine, and once were yours, the roots both remain and will remain, as long as you exist. Though you water them ever so little, no length of time will ever completely destroy them.
Libanius to Basil
Letter CCCXLI
You have not yet ceased to be offended with me, and so I tremble as I write. If you have cared, why, my dear sir, do you not write? If you are still offended, a thing alien from any reasonable soul and from your own, why, while you are preaching to others, that they must not keep their anger till sundown, have you kept yours during many suns? Peradventure you have meant to punish me by depriving me of the sound of your sweet voice? Nay; excellent sir, be gentle, and let me enjoy your golden tongue.
Basil to Libanius
Letter CCCXLII
All who are attached to the rose, as might be expected in the case of lovers of the beautiful, are not displeased even at the thorns from out of which the flower blows. I have even heard it said about roses by some one, perhaps in jest, or, it may be, even in earnest, that nature has furnished the bloom with those delicate thorns, like stings of love to lovers, to excite those who pluck them to intenser longing by these ingeniously adapted pricks. But what do I mean by this introduction of the rose into my letter? You do not need telling, when you remember your own letter. It had indeed the bloom of the rose, and, by its fair speech, opened out all spring to me; but it was bethorned with certain fault findings and charges against me. But even the thorn of your words is delightful to me, for it enkindles in me a greater longing for your friendship.
Libanius to Basil
Letter CCCXLIII
IF these are the words of an untrained tongue, what would you be if you would polish them? On your lips live fountains of words better than the flowing of springs. I, on the contrary, if I am not daily watered, am silent.