Learned men, who had become my friends through conversations which we had had together, or benefits which I had bestowed upon them, sought to persuade me to draw together into one work the various utterances which it had been my duty to make, during my tenure of office, for the explanation of different affairs. They desired me to do this, in order that future generations might recognise the painful labours which I had undergone for the public good, and the workings of my own unbribed conscience. I then replied that their very kindness for me might turn out to my disadvantage, since the letters which their good-will found acceptable might to future readers seem insipid. I reminded them also of the words of Horace, warning us of the dangers of hasty publication.

'You see,' said I, 'that all require from me a speedy reply to their petitions; and do you think that I couch those replies in words which leave me nothing to regret hereafter? Our diction must be somewhat rude when there is no sufficient delay to enable the speaker to choose words which shall rightly express the precise shade of his meaning. Speech is the common gift of all mankind: it is embellishment (ornatus) alone which distinguishes between the learned and unlearned. The author is told to keep his writings by him for nine years for reflection; but I have not as many hours, hardly as many moments. As soon as I begin the petitioner worries me with his clamours, and hurries me too much to prevent my finishing cautiously, even if I have so begun my task. One vexes me past endurance by his interruptions and innuendoes; another torments me with the doleful tale of his miseries; others surround me with the mad shouts of their seditious contentions[193]. In such circumstances how can you expect elegance of language, when we have scarcely opportunity to put words together in any fashion? Even at night indescribable cares are flitting round our couch[194], while we are harassed with fear lest the cities should lack their supplies of food—food which the common people insist upon more than anything else, caring more for their bellies than for the gratification of their ears by eloquence. This thought obliges us to wander in imagination through all the Provinces, and ever to enquire after the execution of our orders, since it is not enough to tell our staff what has to be done, but the diligent administrator must see that it is done[195]. Therefore, I pray you, spare us your harmful love. I must decline this persuasion of yours, which will bring me more of danger than of glory.'

So I pleaded; but they plied me all the more with such arguments as these:

'All men have known you as Praefect of the Praetorian throne, a dignity which all other public employments wait upon like lacqueys. For from this high office, ways and means for the army are demanded; from this, without any regard for the difficulty of the times, the food of the people is required; on this, a weight of judicial responsibility is thrown, which would be by itself a heavy burden. Now the law, which has thrown this immense load on the Praefect's office, has, on the other hand, honoured him by putting almost all things under his control. In truth, what interval of leisure could you snatch from your public labours, when into your single breast flowed every claim which could be made on behalf of the common good of all?

'We must add, moreover, that when you were on frequent occasions charged with the office of the Quaestorship, the leisure which you might have enjoyed was taken from you by your own constant thoughtfulness for the public good; and when you were thus bearing the weight of an honour which was not the highest, your Sovereigns used to lay upon you those duties, properly belonging to other offices, which their own holders were unable to discharge[196]. All these duties you discharged with absolute freedom from corruption, following your father's example in receiving, from those who hoped for your favour, nothing but the obligation to serve them, and bestowing on petitioners all that they had a right to ask for without traffic or reward.

'Moreover, men know that the conversations which you were honoured by holding with the King occupied a large portion of your days, greatly to the public welfare[197], so that men of leisure have no right to expect that their requirements shall be met by you, whose day was thus occupied with continuous toil[198]. But in truth this will redound yet more to your glory, if amid so many and such severe labours you succeed in writing that which is worthy to be read. Besides, your work can without wounding their self-love instruct unlettered persons who are not prepared by any consciousness of eloquence for the service of the Republic[199]; and the experience which you have gained by being tossed to and fro on the waves of stormy altercation, they in their more tranquil lot may more fortunately make their own. Again (and here we make an appeal which your loyalty cannot resist), if you allow posterity to be ignorant of the numerous benefits conferred by your King, it is in vain that with benevolent eagerness he so often granted your requests. Do not, we pray, draw back once more into silence and obscurity those who, while you were sounding their eulogies, seemed worthy to receive illustrious dignities. For you then professed to describe them with true praises, and to paint their characters with the colours of history[200]. Now if you leave it to posterity to write the panegyric on these men, you take away as it were from those who die an honourable death the funeral oration to which, by the customs of our ancestors, they are entitled. Besides, in these letters you correct immorality with a ruler's authority; you break the insolence of the transgressor; you restore to the laws their reverence. Do you still hesitate about publishing that which, as you know, satisfies so many needs? Will you conceal, if we may say so, the mirror of your own mind, in which all ages to come may behold your likeness? Often does it happen that a man begets a son unlike himself, but his writings are hardly ever found unequal to his character[201]. The progeny of his own will is his truest child; what is born in the secret recesses of his own heart is that by which posterity will know him best.

'You have often, amid universal acclamation, pronounced the praises of kings and queens. In twelve books you have compiled the History of the Goths, culling the story of their triumphs[202]. Since these works have had such favourable fortunes, and since you have thus served your first campaign in literature, why hesitate to give these productions of yours also to the public?'

So pleaded my friends, and to my shame I must own that I was conquered, and could no longer resist so many prayers; especially when I saw myself accused of want of affection. I have now only to crave my readers' pardon; and if they find rashness and presumption in my attempt, to blame my advisers rather than me, since my own judgment agrees with that of my severest critic.

All the letters, therefore, which I have been able to find in various public archives that had been dictated by me as Quaestor, as Magister [Officiorum], or as Praefect, are here collected and arranged in twelve books. By the variety of subjects touched upon, the attention of the reader will be aroused, and it will be maintained by the feeling that he is rapidly approaching the conclusion of the letter.

I have also wished to preserve others from those unpolished and hasty forms of speech into which I am conscious that I have often fallen in announcing the bestowal of dignities, a kind of document which is often asked for in such haste that there seems scarce time for the mere manual labour of writing it. I have therefore included in my Sixth and Seventh Books Formulae for the granting of all the dignities of the State, hoping thus to be of some service to myself, though at a late period of my career, and to help my successors who may be hard pressed for time. What I have thus written concerning the past will serve equally well for the future, since I have said nothing about the qualities of the individual office-holder, but have made such explanations as seemed suitable concerning the office.

As for the title of all twelve books, the index of the work, the herald of its meaning, the expression in briefest compass of the whole performance, I have for this chosen the name variae. And this, because it was necessary for me not always to use the same style, since I had undertaken to address various kinds of persons. One must speak in one way to men jaded with much reading; in another to those who skim lightly over the surface, tasting here and there; in another (if one would persuade them), to persons who are devoid of a taste for letters, since it is sometimes a proof of skill to avoid the very things which please the learned. In short, the definition given by our ancestors is a good one: 'To speak fitly is to persuade the hearers to accept your wishes for their own.' Nor was it at random that the prudence of Antiquity thus defined the three modes of speaking:—

(1) The humble style, which seems to creep along the ground in the very expression of its thought.

(2) The middle style, which is neither swollen with self-importance nor shrunk into littleness; but being placed between the two, and enriched by a peculiar elegance, is contained within its own true boundaries.

(3) The supreme style, which by exquisite phraseology is raised to the very highest pitch of oratory.

The object of this distinction is that the various sorts and conditions of men may each receive their appropriate address, and that the thoughts which proceed from the same breast may nevertheless flow in divers channels. No man is entitled to the name of eloquent who is not prepared to do his duty manfully with the triple strength of these three styles, as one cause after another may arise. It must be added hereto that we have sometimes to speak to Kings, sometimes to the Officers of the Court, sometimes to the very humblest of the people. To the last we may allowably pour out our words with some degree of haste, but the other addresses should be deeply pondered before they are delivered. Deservedly therefore is a work entitled variae, which is subject to so much diversity in its composition.

Would that, as we have received these maxims from those who have gone before us, so our own compositions could claim the praise of having reduced them into practice. In sooth we do with shamefacedness promise that the Humble style shall be found in us; we think we may without dishonesty covenant for the Middle style; but the Supreme style, which on account of its nobility is the fitting language of a royal Edict[203], we cannot hope that we have attained unto.

But since we are to be read, let us abstain from further unlawful canvassing for the votes of our readers. It is an incongruous thing for us to be thus piling up our own discourses about ourselves: we ought rather to wait for your judgment on our work.