Letter 911: Libanius admires but returns Celsinus' linen tunic, saying the real payment is public praise and loyal admiration.

May she, the daughter of an excellent father and the wife of an excellent husband, never stop enlarging your household by what she weaves. As for me, when I saw the linen tunic, I admired it, but I sent it back. I did not do what someone else might have done and say, Noble Celsinus, how long did you study with me? What notebook full of speeches did you bring me? What corrections did you receive in it, that you now think you owe me a fee and send one? In fact, I say that you have gained more from me than many who spent years wearing themselves out in my school, afraid of the teacher's eye and afraid of the tutors' straps. Already, while helping officials, and while holding office yourself, you fell in love with the openings of speeches I had composed. You gave no less attention to them than to public business, and by gladly spending time with my students you became skilled both at making speeches and, when another man was displaying one, at seeing what was better and what was worse. So it is a gain for lesser speakers that you are absent from the public performances. For these reasons, yes, you owed me a fee; but by paying it, you no longer owe it. And if you have paid when you did not owe, how could you give again as though you owed? What, then, is the fee? Applause, praise, remembering me and my work even after you spring up in performance, and regarding only those men who do the same for you. I say you are my student because you feed your soul on my labors. But since you have fought alongside me for reputation, I look for nothing more from you to give. That this fee is greater than the other one is clear from the Athenians, who bought admiration at great expense. On this I trust Demosthenes when he speaks about the Athenians.