Letter 112

112. To Andronicus, the Governor

If I were so disposed in body as to be able to endure journeys easily and to bear the hardships of winter, I would not be writing, but would myself be coming to your magnanimity, for two reasons. The first, to pay an old debt of a promise — for I know I agreed to be present at Sebasteia and to enjoy your perfection; which I did, but failed of the meeting, arriving a little behind your goodness. The second, to fulfil in person the embassy which until now I have shrunk from sending, judging myself too small to obtain such a favour, and at the same time reckoning that no one, whether a magistrate or a private man, could persuade another by letters on any matter as well as one present in person — now clearing himself of the charges, now entreating, now begging pardon for some — none of which could easily be done by a letter. Setting, then, against all these one thing — yourself, that divine head, and the thought that it will be enough to make plain to you the mind we have concerning this matter, and that the rest you will supply of your own accord — I did not shrink from the undertaking.

But you see how I go round in circles, hesitating and drawing back from disclosing the reason for which I am making these words. This Domitianus is bound to us by ties going back to our parents, so that he differs in nothing from a brother. For why should one not speak the truth? Then, having learned the cause from which he has suffered these things, we said that he was deserving of such treatment. For let there be no one who, having shown any neglect, small or great, toward your virtue, should escape punishment. But seeing him living in fear and disgrace, and his deliverance lying in your vote, we judged that he has punishment enough. We entreat you to be at once magnanimous and humane in your thoughts concerning him. For to take in hand those who resist is the mark of a man of courage and a true ruler; but to be kind and gentle toward those who have fallen is the mark of one who surpasses all in greatness of mind and in mildness. So that it will be in your power, if you wish, to display in the same act both the magnanimity that avenges and that which saves, as you may choose. This is measure enough of punishment for Domitianus: the fear of what he expects, and the knowledge that he is one who deserves to suffer. We entreat you to add nothing further to his punishment. For consider this also: that many before now have had power over wrongdoers, of whom no account has passed down to later times; but those who in their love of wisdom rose above the many laid aside their anger, and the memory of them has been handed down immortal for all time. Let this too be added to the stories told of you. Grant us, who choose to sing your praises, to surpass the deeds of kindness celebrated in former ages. So too Croesus is said to have laid aside his anger against the slayer of his son, who had surrendered himself for punishment; and Cyrus the Great became, after his victory, a friend to this very Croesus. With these we shall number you, and, as far as our power reaches, we shall proclaim these things — unless we be thought altogether too small to be the heralds of so great a man.

But this, above all, must be said: that we do not punish those who do any wrong for the sake of what has already been done (for what device could there be to make undone what has been done?), but so that either they themselves may become better for the future, or may serve as an example of self-discipline to others. Neither of these, then, can anyone say is wanting in the present case. For he himself will remember these things even after death, and I think the rest are dead with fear, looking to his example. So that whatever we add to the punishment, we shall be thought merely to be glutting our own anger — which I, for my part, would say is far from true of you; and I would not have been moved to speak any of these words, did I not see the favour to be greater for the one who gives than for those who receive it. For the magnanimity of your character will be made plain to no few. For all Cappadocia is watching the future, among whom I would pray to count this too, along with the rest of the good things that belong to you.

I shrink from ceasing to write, thinking that what is omitted may prove a loss to me. Yet this much I will add: that having letters from many who request his pardon, he judged that the one from us was to be preferred to all — though I do not know from where he learned that there is any account made of us with your perfection. So that he may not be deceived in the hopes he has placed in us, and so that we may be able to speak proudly of it before those here, be entreated, matchless master, to assent to the request. And surely you, no worse than any who have ever pursued the love of wisdom, have looked closely at human affairs, and you know what a fair treasure is laid up in advance for one who serves all who are in need.