Marcus Aurelius→Marcus Cornelius Fronto|c. 139 AD|Marcus Cornelius Fronto|From Rome (career hub)|To Rome (career hub)|AI-assisted
Greetings, my best of masters.
1. If any sleep returns to you after the sleepless nights you complained of, I beg you, write to me. And I beg you this too: first, attend to your health; then take that Tenedian axe [a proverbial instrument of harsh severity, recalling the axe of King Tennes of Tenedos] which you keep threatening, and hide it away somewhere and put it out of sight—and do not abandon your plan of pleading cases, or else let every mouth fall silent along with yours.
2. You say you have put together something in Greek which pleases you as much as the few things you have written. Are you really the man who not long ago scolded me roundly for writing in Greek? But now, of all times, I am the one who ought to be writing in Greek. “Why is that?” you ask. I want to make the experiment whether the thing I never learned will serve me more readily, since the very thing I did learn deserts me. But if you loved me, you would have sent me that new piece you say pleases you. As it is, I read you there even against your will; and indeed by this one thing I live and hold on.
3. You have sent me a bloody theme. I have not yet read the extract from Coelius which you sent, nor shall I read it until I have first hunted down my own sense of it. But Caesar's speech holds me fast with its hooked talons. Now at last I feel what a labor it is to polish three or even five lines a day and to take a long time over writing something.
4. Farewell, my breath. Should I not burn with love for you, you who have written this to me? What am I to do? I cannot leave off. Yet last year, in this very place and at this very season, it was granted me to be scorched with longing for my mother. This year it is you who kindle that longing in me. My Lady sends you her greetings.
Hail my best of masters. If any sleep comes back to you after the wakeful nights of which you complain, I beseech you write to me and, above all, I beseech you take care of your health. Then hide somewhere and bury that "axe of Tenedos," which you hold over us, and do not, whatever you do, give up your intention of pleading cases, or along with yours let all lips be dumb. You say that you have composed something in Greek which pleases you more than almost anything you have written. Are you not he who gave me such a castigation for writing in Greek? However, I must now, more than ever, write in Greek. Do you ask why ? I wish to make trial whether what I have not learnt may not more readily come to my aid, since what I have learnt leaves me in the lurch. But, an you really loved me, you would have sent me that new piece you are so pleased with. However, I read you here in spite of yourself and, indeed, that alone is my life and stay. It is a sanguinary theme you have sent me. I have not yet read the extract from Coelius which you sent, nor shall I read it until I, on my part, have hunted up my wits. But my Caesar-speech grips me with its hooked talons. Now, if never before, I find what a task it is to round and shape three or five lines and to take time over writing. Farewell, breath of my life. Should I not burn with love of you, who have written to me as you have! What shall I do? I cannot cease. Last year it befell me in this very place, and at this very time, to be consumed with a passionate longing for my mother. This year you inflame that my longing. My Lady greets you.
ad M. Caesarem 3.9 [42 Hout; 1.18 Haines]
Have mi magister optime.
1 Si quid somni redit post vigilas de quibus questus es, oro te, scribe mihi. Et illud oro te: Primum valetudine operam da, tum securim Tenediam, quam minaris, abde aliquo ac reconde nec tu consilium causarum agendarum dimiseros, aut tum simul omnia ora taceant.
2 Graece nescio, quid ais te conpegisse, quod ut aeque pauca a te scripta placeat tibi. Tune es, qui me nuper concastigas quorsum Graece scriberem? Mihi vero nunc potissimum Graece scribendum est. “Quamobrem?” rogas. Volo periculum facere, an id, quod non didici, facilius obsecundet mihi, quoniam quidem illud, quod didici, deserit. Sed si me amares, misisses mihi istud novicium, quod placere ais. Ego vero te vel invitum istic lego; et quidem hac re una vivo et resto.
3 Materiam cruentam misisti mihi. Necdum legi Coelianum excerptum, quod misisti nec legam, priusquam sensus ipse venatus fuero. Sed me Caesaris oratio unceis unguibus adtinet. Nunc denique sentio quantum operis sit ternos vel quinos versus in die etornare et aliquid diu scribere.
4 Vale spiritus meus. Ego non ardeam tuo amore qui mihi hoc scripseris? Quid faciam? Non possum insistere. At mihi anno priore datum futi hoc eodem loco eodemque tempore matris desiderio peruri. Id desiderium hoc anno tu mihi accendis. Salutat te domina mea.
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Greetings, my best of masters.
1. If any sleep returns to you after the sleepless nights you complained of, I beg you, write to me. And I beg you this too: first, attend to your health; then take that Tenedian axe [a proverbial instrument of harsh severity, recalling the axe of King Tennes of Tenedos] which you keep threatening, and hide it away somewhere and put it out of sight—and do not abandon your plan of pleading cases, or else let every mouth fall silent along with yours.
2. You say you have put together something in Greek which pleases you as much as the few things you have written. Are you really the man who not long ago scolded me roundly for writing in Greek? But now, of all times, I am the one who ought to be writing in Greek. “Why is that?” you ask. I want to make the experiment whether the thing I never learned will serve me more readily, since the very thing I did learn deserts me. But if you loved me, you would have sent me that new piece you say pleases you. As it is, I read you there even against your will; and indeed by this one thing I live and hold on.
3. You have sent me a bloody theme. I have not yet read the extract from Coelius which you sent, nor shall I read it until I have first hunted down my own sense of it. But Caesar's speech holds me fast with its hooked talons. Now at last I feel what a labor it is to polish three or even five lines a day and to take a long time over writing something.
4. Farewell, my breath. Should I not burn with love for you, you who have written this to me? What am I to do? I cannot leave off. Yet last year, in this very place and at this very season, it was granted me to be scorched with longing for my mother. This year it is you who kindle that longing in me. My Lady sends you her greetings.
AI-assisted translation - This translation was produced with AI assistance and has not been peer-reviewed. See the 19th-century translation or original Latin/Greek below for scholarly use.
Latin / Greek Original
ad M. Caesarem 3.9 [42 Hout; 1.18 Haines] Have mi magister optime. 1 Si quid somni redit post vigilas de quibus questus es, oro te, scribe mihi. Et illud oro te: Primum valetudine operam da, tum securim Tenediam, quam minaris, abde aliquo ac reconde nec tu consilium causarum agendarum dimiseros, aut tum simul omnia ora taceant. 2 Graece nescio, quid ais te conpegisse, quod ut aeque pauca a te scripta placeat tibi. Tune es, qui me nuper concastigas quorsum Graece scriberem? Mihi vero nunc potissimum Graece scribendum est. “Quamobrem?” rogas. Volo periculum facere, an id, quod non didici, facilius obsecundet mihi, quoniam quidem illud, quod didici, deserit. Sed si me amares, misisses mihi istud novicium, quod placere ais. Ego vero te vel invitum istic lego; et quidem hac re una vivo et resto. 3 Materiam cruentam misisti mihi. Necdum legi Coelianum excerptum, quod misisti nec legam, priusquam sensus ipse venatus fuero. Sed me Caesaris oratio unceis unguibus adtinet. Nunc denique sentio quantum operis sit ternos vel quinos versus in die etornare et aliquid diu scribere. 4 Vale spiritus meus. Ego non ardeam tuo amore qui mihi hoc scripseris? Quid faciam? Non possum insistere. At mihi anno priore datum futi hoc eodem loco eodemque tempore matris desiderio peruri. Id desiderium hoc anno tu mihi accendis. Salutat te domina mea.