XLII. To Candidianus
The space is great that separates us, nor is the time short since we were parted from your admirableness. There is also the great crowd of business that surrounds us, the most grievous loneliness of the place, the unbearable siege, the sudden attacks, the incursions of robbers, and yet another distress: the sickness of the body. Nevertheless, none of these things has rendered us more sluggish in our love for you; rather, we keep it flourishing and blooming, bearing you in our mind wherever we might be, and holding an unforgetting memory of you, 617 and we have graven upon our mind the nobility of your soul, your freedom, your constancy, the stability of your genuine love, and the warmth of your disposition. Thus we pass our time here, holding the memory of your noble achievements as the greatest consolation in such utter loneliness. Do you yourself also write to us continually, my most admirable and most magnificent lord, bringing us good tidings of your health. For you know how we grasp at it (since it is a matter of great eagerness to us to learn of it), and that we shall reap a double joy—both by your writing and by our receiving such letters from your magnificence.
XLIII. To Bassiana
You have been silent for a long time, and this while you have my most honored and most pious lord, Theodotus the deacon, who is able easily to find those arriving here from your parts. For our part, we do not even then suspect your love, as though it had become more sluggish toward us; for we have received much experience of it and through many things, and we have known its brilliance and sincerity, its genuineness and constancy. Wherefore, whether you write or are silent, we are disposed toward your nobility in the same way, and we have confidence in your disposition, as remaining whole and unalloyed. But even so, being thus disposed, we exceedingly desire to receive continual letters from you, bringing us good tidings concerning the health of your own self and of all your house. Since we desire this especially and grasp at it, as you yourself know. Knowing these things, therefore, my most modest and most noble lady, grant us this favor, which is a light, easy, and reasonable thing, and provides us with great consolation while we sit in this loneliness.
XLIV. To Theodotus the Deacon
I know indeed that you would not have joined us by letter if it had been possible to join us by presence; but you would have left everything to be with us, were there no obstacle, and a great obstacle at that: the season of the year, the difficulty of business, and the loneliness here which increases for the worse every day. And I have no need to learn this from you. For since I have known once for all that you are a fervent lover of us, I have known this well also. We, then, would have written to everyone even without your reminder; but we admired you also for this affection toward us, that you added an exhortation concerning this at the end of your letter. For this is the mark of a soul that greatly cares for our affairs, that is concerned, that is solicitous, and that knows how to love genuinely. I have written to all the others; but since we had recently written to my lady Carteria, and we learned that she is not staying there, but has gone abroad on a long journey: if it is possible for our letters to be sent on there, let this be done, if you should approve; if that is not possible, at least speak with my most honored and noble lords, those around Marcellianus, so that if they should at any time write to her, they may make an apology for us, that we have not been negligent, nor kept silence during the intervening time, but have been hindered by her long absence from writing to her more frequently.
XLV. To Symmachus the Presbyter
It is nothing new or strange that one walking a narrow path should be in distress. For such is the nature of virtue; it is full of labors and sweats, of conspiracies and dangers. But the path is indeed of this kind: the crowns, the prizes, the ineffable goods that follow therefrom, have no end. Exhort yourself, therefore, with these thoughts; for both the ease and the affliction of the present life pass by, and are brought to an end with the life itself. Let neither of those things, then, puff you up, nor let these things humble and shrink you. For the excellent pilot is neither puffed up in the calm nor troubled in the storm. Knowing these things, therefore, exhort yourself, and reap the greatest consolation therefrom. Write to us continually concerning your health. For if we are separated by a great length of road, and we have been left a long time from your 618 pleasant company, yet we are not separated from your love; but we always bear it unforgotten and flourishing, wherever we may be, since such is the nature of loving genuinely.
XLVI. To Rufinus
I wished to write more frequently to your reverence, since I love you—and I love you greatly, my most reverend and pious lord; and you yourself know both of these things. But since the one rests with us, and the other is not in our power: for we are masters of loving, but no longer of writing continuously, due to the difficulty of the road and the season of the year; that we do constantly, but this we do whenever it is possible—or rather, we do this also constantly. For even if we do not write continuously with ink and paper, we do so with mind and purpose; for such is the nature of loving genuinely.
XLVII. To Namaea
Why do you go about seeking an apology and 619 pardon?