Letter 10030: Your report informs me that on the Via Sacra [the Sacred Way, Rome's ceremonial boulevard] — which antiquity...
Cassiodorus→Honorius, of Rome|c. 522 AD|Cassiodorus
imperial politics
From: King Theodahad of Italy
To: Honorius, Prefect of Rome
Date: ~536 AD
Context: A famous letter ordering the repair of bronze elephant statues on Rome's Via Sacra — which becomes an occasion for a dazzling natural-history digression on real elephants.
Your report informs me that on the Via Sacra [the Sacred Way, Rome's ceremonial boulevard] — which antiquity consecrated with many religious observances — the bronze elephants are tottering on the verge of complete collapse. These creatures, which in their living form survive more than a thousand years, appear to face imminent destruction in their metal likenesses. Your Foresight should restore their proper longevity by bracing their gaping limbs with iron clamps. Shore up their sagging bellies with supporting walls beneath, so that this marvelous grandeur does not disgracefully crumble into ruin.
For real elephants too are vulnerable to falling. When men cut down trees to create a kind of sleeping-platform and the animals commit their enormous bodies to it, they topple over with their full weight and cannot rise again by their own strength — because their legs have no bending joints but remain perpetually stiff and rigid like columns. Prostrate under such mass, you would think them more like metal statues when you see that, though alive, they cannot move. They lie there like survivors who resemble corpses: you would think them dead, though you know they are alive. Like collapsed buildings, they cannot voluntarily leave the spot their bodies have occupied.
That terrifying bulk is no match for even the tiniest ants, since the elephant lacks a natural gift that even the lowliest creatures possess. It rises with human help — the same human ingenuity that brought it down. Yet once restored to its feet, the beast remembers the kindness. It accepts as its master whoever it recognizes as its rescuer: it moves at his direction, takes food at his command. And — surpassing the intelligence of all other four-footed creatures — it does not hesitate to bow at first sight before the one it understands to be the ruler of all. But if a tyrant appears, it remains unbowed — for the beast cannot be made to pay to the wicked what it knows it owes only to good rulers.
It extends its trunk like a hand, gratefully accepting from its keeper whatever sustains it, knowing it can only survive through his care. The trunk is, so to speak, the elephant's "nose-hand," through which it receives what is given and conveys food to its mouth. For though the animal is tall, its neck is extremely short — so that what it could not manage to crop from the ground, it could satisfy through this appendage instead. It always walks cautiously, testing the ground, remembering that a fall once proved fatal to it at the time of its first capture.
It is said that its breath cures human headaches, and it exhales willingly when asked. When it comes to water, it sucks it up through the hollow of its trunk and pours it out like rain on request — it understands what is being asked and gladly does what is requested. By bodily gestures it begs from bystanders for things to offer its keeper, considering its caretaker's earnings as its own food. If anyone refuses its request, it opens the reservoir of its bladder and is said to release such a flood that a veritable river seems to pour into the offender's house — avenging contempt with stench.
When injured, it holds the grudge, and is said to repay the offender even long afterward. Its eyes are small but move with gravity. You would think there was something regal in its gaze. It despises those who clown about foolishly but attends with pleasure to anything respectable — and you can tell it judges rightly, since you observe that triviality displeases it.
Its hide is furrowed with ulcer-like valleys — from which the dreadful disease of elephantiasis takes its name. The skin hardens to such a degree that you would think it bony. No force can pierce it, no blade can penetrate it — which is why the kings of Persia brought these beasts to war: they yielded to no blows and terrified the enemy with their sheer mass.
For all these reasons, it is most gratifying to preserve at least their likenesses, so that those who have never seen the living animal may come to know this fabled creature through such representations. Do not allow them to perish. It is worthy of Roman dignity to preserve in that city, through the ingenuity of craftsmen, what generous Nature is known to have produced across the diverse regions of the world.
XXX.
HONORIO PRAEFECTO URBIS THEODAHADUS REX.
[1] Relationis vestrae tenore comperimus in via sacra, quam multis superstitionibus dicavit antiquitas, elephantos aeneos vicina omnimodis ruina titubare, et qui solent in carnali substantia supra millenos annos vivere, occasum videantur proximum in simulacris aereis sustinere. his providentia vestra reddi faciat propriam longaevitatem uncis ferreis hiantia membra solidando: alvum quoque demissam subdito pariete corroboret, ne illa magnitudo mirabilis solvatur turpiter in ruinam. [2] Nam et vivis ipse casus adversus est, qui, dum in genus cubationis arte hominum succisis arboribus ingentia membra commiserint, toto pondere supinati nequeunt propriis viribus surgere, quos semel contigerit corruisse, scilicet quia pedes eorum nullis inflectuntur articulis, sed in modum columnarum rigentes atque incurvabiles iugiter perseverant. ibi tanta mole prostrati sunt, ut tunc magis metallicos possis credere, cum se vivos aspicias non movere. iacent superstites similitudine cadaverum: mortuos putes, quos vivos esse non dubites et more cadentium fabricarum, nesciunt locum sponte relinquere, quem suis membris potuerint occupare. [3] Magnitudo illa terribilis nec formicis minutissimis par est, quando beneficium non habet naturae, quod ultima videntur animalia meruisse. humano solacio consurgunt, cuius arte iacuerunt. belua tamen suis gressibus restituta novit memor esse beneficii: in magistrum quippe recipit quem sibi subvenisse cognoscit: ad ipsius arbitrium gressus movet, ipsius voluntate cibos capit, et, quod omnem intellegentiam quadrupedum superat, non dubitat primo aspectu adorare quem cunctorum intellegit esse rectorem: cui si tyrannus appareat, inflexa permanet nec imponi potest beluae hoc et malis pendere, quod a se novit bonis principibus exhibere. [4] In vicem manus promuscidem tendit et magistro profutura gratanter accipit, quia se ipsius cura vivere posse cognoscit. est enim, ut ita dixerim, praedictae beluae nasuta manus, per quam data suscipit et ori suo voranda transmittit. nam cum sit altum animal, brevissima cervice compositum est, ut quod cibos ex humo non praevalebat carpere, hoc se ministerio videretur posse satiare. temptando solum cautus semper incedit, retinens initio captivationis suae fuisse sibi noxiam ruinam. [5] Flatum suum, quia dolori capitis humani mederi dicitur, rogatus exhalat. hic dum ad aquas venerit hauriendas, per cavum promuscidis in modum pluviae imbrem postulatus effundit et sic agnoscit quod petitur, ut libens faciat quod rogatur. motu corporis ab diversis postulat quod magistro porrigat et nutritoris compendia sua putat alimenta. quod si aliquis praebere contempserit postulata, vesicae collectaculo patefacto tantam dicitur alluvionem egerere, ut in eius penatibus quidam fluvius videatur intrare, contemptum vindicans de fetore. [6] Nam et laesus servat offensam et longo post tempore reddere dicitur, a quo iniuriatus esse sentitur. oculi quidem parvi, sed graviter se moventes. credas aliquid regium eius intendisse conspectum. despicit scurriliter ludentes: honestum aliquid gratanter adtendit et advertis recte iudicare, cui levia cognoveris displicere. [7] Cutis huius ulcerosis vallibus exaratur, a qua transportaneorum nefanda passio nomen accepit, quae in tantam duritiam solidatur, ut putes esse osseam cutem. haec nulla vi transmittitur, nullo ferri acumine penetratur, ideoque Persarum reges hanc beluam ad bella traxerunt, quae et nullis ictibus pulsata cederet et adversarios sua mole terreret. [8] Quapropter eorum vel formas habere gratissimum est, ut qui vivam substantiam non viderunt, opinatum animal tali imaginatione cognoscant. et ideo non patiaris perire, quando Romanae dignitatis est artificum ingeniis in illa urbe recondere, quod per diversas mundi partes cognoscitur dives natura procreasse.
◆
From:King Theodahad of Italy
To:Honorius, Prefect of Rome
Date:~536 AD
Context:A famous letter ordering the repair of bronze elephant statues on Rome's Via Sacra — which becomes an occasion for a dazzling natural-history digression on real elephants.
Your report informs me that on the Via Sacra [the Sacred Way, Rome's ceremonial boulevard] — which antiquity consecrated with many religious observances — the bronze elephants are tottering on the verge of complete collapse. These creatures, which in their living form survive more than a thousand years, appear to face imminent destruction in their metal likenesses. Your Foresight should restore their proper longevity by bracing their gaping limbs with iron clamps. Shore up their sagging bellies with supporting walls beneath, so that this marvelous grandeur does not disgracefully crumble into ruin.
For real elephants too are vulnerable to falling. When men cut down trees to create a kind of sleeping-platform and the animals commit their enormous bodies to it, they topple over with their full weight and cannot rise again by their own strength — because their legs have no bending joints but remain perpetually stiff and rigid like columns. Prostrate under such mass, you would think them more like metal statues when you see that, though alive, they cannot move. They lie there like survivors who resemble corpses: you would think them dead, though you know they are alive. Like collapsed buildings, they cannot voluntarily leave the spot their bodies have occupied.
That terrifying bulk is no match for even the tiniest ants, since the elephant lacks a natural gift that even the lowliest creatures possess. It rises with human help — the same human ingenuity that brought it down. Yet once restored to its feet, the beast remembers the kindness. It accepts as its master whoever it recognizes as its rescuer: it moves at his direction, takes food at his command. And — surpassing the intelligence of all other four-footed creatures — it does not hesitate to bow at first sight before the one it understands to be the ruler of all. But if a tyrant appears, it remains unbowed — for the beast cannot be made to pay to the wicked what it knows it owes only to good rulers.
It extends its trunk like a hand, gratefully accepting from its keeper whatever sustains it, knowing it can only survive through his care. The trunk is, so to speak, the elephant's "nose-hand," through which it receives what is given and conveys food to its mouth. For though the animal is tall, its neck is extremely short — so that what it could not manage to crop from the ground, it could satisfy through this appendage instead. It always walks cautiously, testing the ground, remembering that a fall once proved fatal to it at the time of its first capture.
It is said that its breath cures human headaches, and it exhales willingly when asked. When it comes to water, it sucks it up through the hollow of its trunk and pours it out like rain on request — it understands what is being asked and gladly does what is requested. By bodily gestures it begs from bystanders for things to offer its keeper, considering its caretaker's earnings as its own food. If anyone refuses its request, it opens the reservoir of its bladder and is said to release such a flood that a veritable river seems to pour into the offender's house — avenging contempt with stench.
When injured, it holds the grudge, and is said to repay the offender even long afterward. Its eyes are small but move with gravity. You would think there was something regal in its gaze. It despises those who clown about foolishly but attends with pleasure to anything respectable — and you can tell it judges rightly, since you observe that triviality displeases it.
Its hide is furrowed with ulcer-like valleys — from which the dreadful disease of elephantiasis takes its name. The skin hardens to such a degree that you would think it bony. No force can pierce it, no blade can penetrate it — which is why the kings of Persia brought these beasts to war: they yielded to no blows and terrified the enemy with their sheer mass.
For all these reasons, it is most gratifying to preserve at least their likenesses, so that those who have never seen the living animal may come to know this fabled creature through such representations. Do not allow them to perish. It is worthy of Roman dignity to preserve in that city, through the ingenuity of craftsmen, what generous Nature is known to have produced across the diverse regions of the world.
Modern English rendering for readability. See the 19th-century translation or original Latin/Greek for scholarly use.