Letter 1007: The fate of Arvandus [the Praetorian Prefect of Gaul, tried for treason in Rome around 469 AD] distresses me, and I...

Sidonius ApollinarisVincentius|c. 467 AD|Sidonius Apollinaris
barbarian invasiondiplomaticfriendshipgrief deathhumorillnessimperial politicsproperty economicstravel mobility

Sidonius to his dear Vincentius, greetings.

1. The fate of Arvandus [the Praetorian Prefect of Gaul, tried for treason in Rome around 469 AD] distresses me, and I do not pretend otherwise. For this too redounds to the emperor's credit: that one may openly love even those condemned to death. I was a friend to the man, as much as his changeable and easygoing character allowed. My recent clash with public opinion on his account is proof of this -- its flame, which I had not been cautious enough to avoid, singed me.

2. But my loyalty to a friendship was something I owed myself. For his part, he simply did not have the character to persevere in it. I complain freely, not insultingly, because he despised the counsel of loyal friends and was in all things the plaything of Fortune. In the end, I am less surprised that he eventually fell than that he stood so long. How often he boasted of having endured adversity, while we, from a deeper affection, pitied his recklessness that we knew would one day bring him down, declaring that a man was not truly fortunate if he was judged to be so merely often rather than always.

3. But you ask for the sequence of his condemnation. With all due respect to the loyalty owed even to a friend in affliction, I shall set out the matter briefly. He governed his first prefecture with great popularity, and the one that followed with the greatest devastation. Simultaneously crushed by a mountain of debt and fearing his creditors, he intrigued against the nobles who were to succeed him. He laughed at everyone's conversation, marveled at their advice, and scorned their services. He suffered suspicion from the rarity of visitors and disgust from their frequency -- until, hemmed in by a wall of public hatred, he was arrested and stripped of his power, brought to Rome still swelling with pride because he had sailed past the stormy coast of Tuscany with favorable winds, as though the very elements were at the service of his clear conscience.

4. He was being held in custody on the Capitoline, under the guard of his host Flavius Asellus, Count of the Sacred Largesses, who still revered in him the half-extinguished dignity of a prefecture so recently torn away. Meanwhile the envoys of the province of Gaul -- Tonantius Ferreolus, a former prefect and grandson through his daughter of the consul Afranius Syagrius, along with Thaumastus and Petronius, men of the highest knowledge in both substance and speech who deserve to be counted among the chief ornaments of our homeland -- followed in pursuit, bearing official decrees to prosecute Arvandus in the public name.

5. Among the other matters the provincials had charged them to handle, they brought intercepted letters which Arvandus's secretary, when seized, declared his master had dictated. The document appeared to have been sent to the king of the Goths [Euric], dissuading him from making peace with the Greek emperor [the Eastern Roman Emperor], urging that the Britons settled above the Loire should be attacked, and confirming that the Gauls should be divided with the Burgundians according to the law of nations -- and much more madness of this sort, calculated to provoke rage in a fierce king and shame in a peaceable one. Legal experts interpreted this letter as burning with the crime of treason.

6. This business was not unknown to me and to Auxanius, an outstanding man. We considered it perfidious, barbarous, and cowardly to avoid the friendship of Arvandus amid his troubles, whatever the circumstances. So we reported the entire scheme to Arvandus, who suspected nothing -- a scheme that keen and passionate men were carefully concealing until the time of trial, intending to trap an incautious adversary who, having rejected the advice of his friends and rashly trusting only himself, would incriminate himself with a hasty response. We told him what we and our closest friends thought safe. We urged him to admit nothing as trivial if anything were demanded by his enemies, however slight their charge might seem -- that even this pretense of unconcern would be most perilous, making it easier for them to shake loose his careless confidence through cross-examination.

7. On hearing this, he leapt up and burst into sudden abuse: "Be gone, you degenerates," he said, "unworthy of your prefectorian fathers, with this needless panic! Since you understand nothing, leave this part of the business to me. Arvandus has his conscience, and that is enough. I shall scarcely deign to allow advocates to defend me in an embezzlement trial." We departed, grieved and confounded not so much by the insult as by our sorrow -- for what doctor can justly be angered when a desperate patient seizes him in a frenzy?

8. Meanwhile our defendant paraded about the Capitoline square in his best white clothes, now feeding on sly greetings, now gladly listening to the popping bubbles of flattery as if acknowledging old acquaintances, now rummaging through the displays of silk, gems, and precious wares of the money-changers -- inspecting, handling, deprecating, and unrolling them as if about to buy. And through it all he complained loudly about the laws, the times, the Senate, the emperor -- that they had not punished him before examining his case.

9. A few days passed. The Senate assembled in full session in the council chamber (so I later learned, for I had left by then). Our defendant appeared in court, freshly shaven and pumiced, while the prosecutors, half in mourning and unkempt, waited for the summons of the judges and, deliberately squalid, had preempted the pity owed to the accused by their own display of grief. They were called and admitted. The parties, as is customary, took their positions on opposite sides. The former prefects were offered the right to sit before the opening of the case. Arvandus, with his characteristic unlucky impudence, strode forward and virtually thrust himself into the very laps of the judges. Ferreolus, flanked by his colleagues, sat modestly and quietly at the far end of the lowest bench, showing that he remembered he was an envoy no less than a senator -- and was later all the more praised and honored for it.

10. While these proceedings continued and the absent senators arrived, the parties rose and the envoys stated their case. After the provincial mandate was presented, the letter mentioned above was produced. As it was read aloud, word by word, Arvandus -- without even being asked -- proclaimed that he had dictated it. The envoys replied that, though his admission was wicked, they could at least confirm that he himself had dictated it. But when the raging man, oblivious to how far he was falling, ran himself through with his confession repeated two and three times, the prosecutors declared, and the judges concurred, that the defendant stood self-confessed of treason. He was further destroyed by a thousand legal formulas establishing the penalty.

11. Only then, they say, did the wretched man turn pale with belated remorse for his talkativeness, realizing too late that even a man who had never sought the purple could be pronounced guilty of treason. He was immediately stripped of the privileges of two prefectures, which he had held for five years in repeated terms of office. Reduced to plebeian rank -- not so much added to common humanity as returned to it -- he was consigned to the public prison. The most pitiful thing, according to those who witnessed it, was that because he had presented himself to the judges groomed and polished while his prosecutors wore mourning, when he was led away condemned he was wretched but not pitiable. For who could be deeply moved at the fate of a man who was being carried off to the quarries or the workhouse looking sleek and perfumed?

12. Yet when the trial had been adjourned for barely two weeks, he was sentenced to death and cast onto the island of the Serpent of Epidaurus [Tiber Island in Rome, which housed a temple of Aesculapius], where, stripped of all distinction to the point of distressing even his enemies, and spewed out from human affairs as if by the nausea of a sickened Fortune, he now drags out thirty days of life after his sentence according to the old Tiberian decree, trembling hour by hour at the thought of the hook, the Gemonian Steps, and the noose from a frenzied executioner.

13. For our part, as best we can, whether absent or present, we offer our prayers and double our supplications that the imperial clemency may grant this half-dead man at least exile, though his property has been confiscated, and that the suspended blow of the drawn sword may be stayed. Yet whether he awaits the worst or merely endures it, nothing is more unfortunate than this: that after so many brands of infamy and humiliation, he now fears nothing more than simply being alive. Farewell.

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

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