“TO OLYMPIAS

“When I see whole populations of men and women, in the highway, at the road-stations, and in the cities, pouring out to see me, and weeping at the sight, I am able to comprehend your grief at home. For if these people, who now see me for the first time, are thus broken with sorrow (so that they could not be comforted, but when I besought them, and exhorted, and admonished them, their hot tears did but stream the more), most certainly on you the storm is beating more violently still. But the greater also will be your reward, if you persevere under it with thanksgiving and with becoming fortitude, as you do. You know this well, my religious lady; therefore beware of surrendering yourself to the tyranny of sorrow. You can command yourself; the tempest is not beyond your skill. And send me a letter to tell me this; that, though I live in a strange land, I may enjoy much cheerfulness from the assurance that you bear your trials with the understanding and wisdom which becomes you. I write this when not far from Cæsarea.”—Ep. 9.

In a second letter, written apparently about the same time, he again complains of her silence, which seemed to him a token of excessive grief; and he adds, in like manner: “I see that not even my removal from Constantinople can release me from distress; for those who meet me on my journey, some from the east, some from Armenia, some from other parts, are drowned in tears at the sight of me, and follow me with piercing laments as I travel onwards.”—Ep. 8. Not a word about his own sufferings.

He seems to have had a special fear of frightening Olympias, and takes care to write when he has good news to communicate, either about himself or about things around him. Accordingly, he selects the most favourable moment of his sojourn at Cæsarea to send her an account of his state and circumstances. This, too, I will submit to the reader, before addressing myself to those of a more painful character belonging to the very same days. It runs as follows: