**From:** Ennodius, deacon and man of letters, Pavia
**To:** Firminus, rhetorician and man of exceptional eloquence
**Date:** ~498 AD
**Context:** A tour de force of Ennodian self-deprecation — Ennodius lavishly apologizes for his literary inadequacy while writing to a more accomplished friend, demonstrating, in the very act of apologizing, the elaborate rhetorical skill he claims to lack; the letter pivots on Cicero's dictum that speaking without necessity is folly, only to conclude that silence between friends is worse than ingratitude.
---
Though love may demand what perfection cannot deliver, and affection may succeed in this at least — that through the sheer audacity of speech, all hope of the silence that might have adorned me is utterly destroyed — still, I know that speaking without necessity is, as Tully [Cicero] himself observed, an altogether inept condition. Yet amid the paths of narration and the roads that must be opened with the scythe of learning, affection holds sovereign sway, ignorant of its own weakness, indifferent to any reckoning of its powers. Love, once fixed deep within the inner chambers of the heart, rules there like an emperor — confident that one who is anxious for the welfare of a dear friend far away is not won over by the weight or grandeur of words, and unwilling to believe that offense can ever be born from goodwill. It judges this sufficient for joy: that a letter should carry the longed-for news of your wellbeing.
But you — you whom the scales of expertise have weighed in the balance of eloquence itself, you who command abundance of tongue, disciplined speech, true Latin grace, expression that is perfectly rounded and finished on every side — you naturally seek in others what you yourselves practice; you seek what you love. I, by contrast, have been kept far from the gymnasia of the schools, and with the merest drops of a parched and withered intellect I presume to challenge the full rivers of ocean — as though a lamp were preparing to do battle against the rays of the sun. The poverty of my learning announces itself from a great distance, and unless the warmth of devotion be allowed to excuse such garrulousness, it is at the expense of my own dignity that I have dared to love a man so far above me.
The vein of eloquence, after all, is drawn from the source of one's lineage, and a noble offspring is ordinarily kindled by the ardor native to its stock. I fall short of my own ancestry: the fullness of learning has not touched me with the gifts it bestowed on you; I am, in that world, a stranger. I can praise you, nothing more — imitation lies beyond my reach. And yet, though mature eloquence has not yet come to flower in me, and though I am abandoned by the very capacity I would need to discharge the weight of gratitude I owe you, I nonetheless commit my frail little skiff to the calm sea — because silent congratulation differs only barely from ingratitude.
How is it, I ask you, that the good news of your prosperity, which I have learned through the report of the bearer of this letter, should count among the blessings of heaven itself? And although I was in duty bound to fulfil the obligations of regular correspondence, it was the negligence of couriers that intervened — letters sent to me by you were either held back or lost entirely. I have nonetheless drawn my modesty out from the safe post where it had been content to linger, and launched it upon uncertain waters; I commit myself entire to be read by your discerning taste.
Farewell, my lord. Honor one who loves you with the frequent gift of letters — for in such pursuits, neither laziness nor mere diligence nor mere eloquence will do.
VII. ENNODIVS FIRMINO.
Exigat licet amor quod non potest implere perfectio et inpetret
caritas, ut per loquelae audaciam quae ornare poterat
pereat spes tacendi, maxime cum sit dicendi, ut Tullius refert,
nisi cum necessaria nimis inepta condicio: sed inter narrationum
uias et itinera aperienda falce doctrinae teneri nescius
uirium consideratione regnat adfectus. inperatoris loco
dominatur semel penetralibus cordis infixa dilectio, credens
quod non de uerborum pondere uel pompa capiatur qui de
absentis propinqui est salute sollicitus nec existimat quod
nasci possit offensa de gratia, hoc ad laetitiam satis esse coniciens,
si optatam nuntiet epistula sospitatem. sed uos, quos
libra peritiae in eloquii lance pensauit, quibus ubertas linguae,
castigatus sermo, Latiaris ductus, quadrata constat elocutio,
quaeritis nimirum in aliis quod exercetis, quaeritis quod amatis.
nos ab scolarum gymnasiis sequestrati, arentis ingenii guttis
quaedam oceani fluenta prouocamus, quasi lychnis contra solis
radios pugnaturi. mei macies longe se monstrat studii et nisi
excusetur pietate garrulitas, dispendium proprii pudoris est
9 Cicero de orat. I 24, 112
1 archae B, arche T profeticis BLV 2 misteriis T
scaemata B, scemata T 3 intexta fort . poenelopae L, poenaelopae
V, penelope PT, ponaelopaei B
VII. 8 loquellae B q; L 10 conditio LT 11 itenera
B et teneri P, etenere B 13 dominantur L, dominator B
penetrabitibus LV(?) delectatio T 15 sollicitus salute T in
ras. m. 2 ex|timat∗∗nasci B nas inras . posse offensam B
16 leticiam s. e. coatinSs si ob T in ras. m. 2 17 quod L,
om. b 18 pensauit scripsi, pensabat VI pensabit BLPTb
19 sermo V in ras . m. 1 elucutio T .21 gimnasiis LV, gemnasiis
B, ginnasiis PT gottis B 22 ocheani B, occeani T
lygnis BLV, lignis PTb 23 radius B 24 podoris Bl
quod amaui. uena quidem linguae a generis fonte trahitur et
feruore genuino solet fetura nobilis incitari. ego mea sum
inpar prosapia: me dotibus uestris quasi peregrinum scientiae
plenitudo non tetigit: ego uos tantum laudare magis quam
imitari ualeo. et quamuis necdum in me ad florem uenerit
matura facundia et pressus onere gratiae soluendi deserar
facultate, committo tamen cymbam tenuem placido mari, quia
parum ab ingratitudine differt muta gratulatio. unde nascitur
quaeso, ut prospera quae de uobis perlatoris relatione cognoui
inter caelestia mihi beneficia conputentur? et quamuis reddere
deberem sermonis officia, sed quia portitorum neglegentia
fecit ut directae a uobis aut retinerentur aut perderentur
epistulae: ego tamen uerecundiam meam in statione degentem
ad incerta deduxi et totum me legendum sapori uestro conmitto.
salue, mi domine, et amantem uestri frequentibus colite
muniis litterarum. circa quae studia pigrum esse nec diligentem
conuenit nec facundum.
◆
**From:** Ennodius, deacon and man of letters, Pavia **To:** Firminus, rhetorician and man of exceptional eloquence **Date:** ~498 AD **Context:** A tour de force of Ennodian self-deprecation — Ennodius lavishly apologizes for his literary inadequacy while writing to a more accomplished friend, demonstrating, in the very act of apologizing, the elaborate rhetorical skill he claims to lack; the letter pivots on Cicero's dictum that speaking without necessity is folly, only to conclude that silence between friends is worse than ingratitude.
---
Though love may demand what perfection cannot deliver, and affection may succeed in this at least — that through the sheer audacity of speech, all hope of the silence that might have adorned me is utterly destroyed — still, I know that speaking without necessity is, as Tully [Cicero] himself observed, an altogether inept condition. Yet amid the paths of narration and the roads that must be opened with the scythe of learning, affection holds sovereign sway, ignorant of its own weakness, indifferent to any reckoning of its powers. Love, once fixed deep within the inner chambers of the heart, rules there like an emperor — confident that one who is anxious for the welfare of a dear friend far away is not won over by the weight or grandeur of words, and unwilling to believe that offense can ever be born from goodwill. It judges this sufficient for joy: that a letter should carry the longed-for news of your wellbeing.
But you — you whom the scales of expertise have weighed in the balance of eloquence itself, you who command abundance of tongue, disciplined speech, true Latin grace, expression that is perfectly rounded and finished on every side — you naturally seek in others what you yourselves practice; you seek what you love. I, by contrast, have been kept far from the gymnasia of the schools, and with the merest drops of a parched and withered intellect I presume to challenge the full rivers of ocean — as though a lamp were preparing to do battle against the rays of the sun. The poverty of my learning announces itself from a great distance, and unless the warmth of devotion be allowed to excuse such garrulousness, it is at the expense of my own dignity that I have dared to love a man so far above me.
The vein of eloquence, after all, is drawn from the source of one's lineage, and a noble offspring is ordinarily kindled by the ardor native to its stock. I fall short of my own ancestry: the fullness of learning has not touched me with the gifts it bestowed on you; I am, in that world, a stranger. I can praise you, nothing more — imitation lies beyond my reach. And yet, though mature eloquence has not yet come to flower in me, and though I am abandoned by the very capacity I would need to discharge the weight of gratitude I owe you, I nonetheless commit my frail little skiff to the calm sea — because silent congratulation differs only barely from ingratitude.
How is it, I ask you, that the good news of your prosperity, which I have learned through the report of the bearer of this letter, should count among the blessings of heaven itself? And although I was in duty bound to fulfil the obligations of regular correspondence, it was the negligence of couriers that intervened — letters sent to me by you were either held back or lost entirely. I have nonetheless drawn my modesty out from the safe post where it had been content to linger, and launched it upon uncertain waters; I commit myself entire to be read by your discerning taste.
Farewell, my lord. Honor one who loves you with the frequent gift of letters — for in such pursuits, neither laziness nor mere diligence nor mere eloquence will do.
Modern English rendering for readability. See the 19th-century translation or original Latin/Greek for scholarly use.