Letter 2013: **From:** Ennodius, deacon of Milan

Ennodius of PaviaOlybrius|c. 503 AD|Ennodius of Pavia
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**From:** Ennodius, deacon of Milan
**To:** Olybrius, Roman senator and senior official of the Ostrogothic court
**Date:** ~503 AD
**Context:** A masterclass in epistolary one-upmanship — Ennodius opens by praising the rhetorical virtue of *carelessness* in letters, then pivots immediately to extravagant praise of Olybrius's eloquence before arriving at the actual business: an apology for failing to track down a group of devout women.

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As a certain elevated authority on eloquence instructs us, carelessness is the governing law of the letter — and it is studied negligence that presents itself as the craftsman best suited to reveal a writer's true genius. In this kind of composition, what is quietly removed from the account of grace is precisely what the sweat of great labor has discovered. The messenger forged in the smith's furnace does not cry out, announcing his own survival or demanding news of another's. Better, then, if in these exchanges we meet one another with the open, unadorned face of plain expression: simple conversational style refuses the crown and diadem; epistolary fellowship, when it flees after affectation and studied ornament, has already achieved its end.

And yet — the rich and elaborately wrought eloquence of Your Greatness refuses to be contained within beggarly limits. It will not compress the treasury of your speech within any narrow borders. Like great rivers, it scorns the bridle of its banks. For even as your abundant tongue breaks through the crafted veil of busyness, it announces that it is in service to those very studies to which even circumstance and occasion have led it. Were I not to know, from the testimony of my own peaceful life, that the helm of the republic has been entrusted to your hands — were I not to have learned that whatever is ordered anywhere in the empire is your labor's concern, that the whole care of Italy has entered into a single breast — I would almost conclude that you are worn down by nothing in this world except the care and unceasing discipline of the written page.

These gifts are owed to God: it was He who bestowed upon you a mind that loves knowledge, and He who did not deny to the fashioning of your speech the file of long study. Not so swiftly does the arrow, driven by the taut bowstring through the open air, cleave its path, as your eloquence sets forth the discoveries of your intellect. It falters at no obstacle; it is slowed by no impediment. Whatever difficulty presents itself becomes a road made passable, and through the wondrous skill of your advocacy, the very nature of a case is transformed. You arrange it so that a matter deserves to have the outcome you desire for it: whatever you relate as truth simply *becomes* truth. On this account, even careful and wary judges find themselves unable to resist. The most minute and exacting critics count it a gain in reputation merely to follow where your imperious speech draws its captives.

To this tongue, to these riches, I confess it freely — I owe a singular reverence, and I was among the first to run toward it. My hope is that very many commissions may be entrusted to me as the clasp of our friendship.

But regarding what you charged me to do concerning the devout women — Speciosa [a woman of good family known to both men] and her sisters — it grieves my heart that I have not been able to carry out your instructions. Nothing of close familiarity or personal bond remains between me and them now, most of all because they live in cities far removed from my own. Nevertheless, I immediately forwarded to them the letter you had sent me, which has been waiting for its reply until such time as they themselves see fit. So that I should not leave Your Greatness in suspense, I have prolonged my own correspondence in the meantime; whatever they have directed will reach you shortly, if it is something you would wish to be informed of.

For now, I offer you the honor of my greeting, and I ask that Your Sublimity — together with the church — entrust to me whatever matters may need to be attended to, since I believe that, whether in the matter of your kinsfolk or through the good offices of a friend of that noblewoman, I have not concealed from you the full devotion of my heart.

Modern English rendering for readability. See the 19th-century translation or original Latin/Greek for scholarly use.

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