Letter 1011: You ask me, most eloquent sir, as you set out for your Sequani [the region around Besancon], to send you a certain...

Sidonius ApollinarisMontius|c. 467 AD|Sidonius Apollinaris
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LETTER XI

Sidonius to his dear Montius, greetings.

1. You ask me, most eloquent sir, as you set out for your Sequani [the region around Besancon], to send you a certain satire that I have supposedly written. I am amazed that you would make such a request, for it is not right to think ill so quickly of a friend's character. Was I really going to brood over such a theme -- a man of my age and leisure, when it would have been presumptuous for a young man on active service to have composed such a thing, and dangerous to have published it? For who has not heard what that Calabrian schoolmaster [Horace] said even to a casual acquaintance: "If anyone writes malicious verses against another, there is a right and a remedy at law"?

2. But so that you may harbor no further such suspicion of your friend, let me explain at some length, from the beginning, what it was that tainted me with the smoke and rumor of this sinister reputation. In the time of the Emperor Majorian [reigned 457-461], a document appeared at court -- anonymous, full of biting satirical verses, which attacked vices with considerable invective and people even more, making free with their actual names. At this the citizens of Arles, where the court was then situated, were in an uproar, trying to determine which poet should rightly bear the weight of public indignation -- especially those whom the unknown author had provoked with unmistakable barbs.

3. It happened by chance that the distinguished Catullinus came from the Auvergne to Arles just then, a man always close to me but especially so through our recent comradeship in arms. (For travel often makes fellow citizens into closer friends.) And so Paeonius and Bigerrus laid this trap for the unsuspecting Catullinus: in front of many witnesses, they casually asked whether he recognized this new poem. "Tell me what it says," he replied. When they spouted various verses at him as if in jest, Catullinus dissolved in laughter and, with untimely enthusiasm, began to exclaim that the poem was worthy of being immortalized in golden letters on a bronze tablet at the Rostra, or even on the Capitoline.

4. Paeonius exploded -- for the satirist had sunk into him the bite of a particularly burning tooth -- and turned to the bystanders: "I have found the culprit of our common injury," he said. "You see how Catullinus is dying of laughter? It is obvious that he recognizes what is being recited. For what reason would he rush to pass judgment unless he already knows the whole when he judges so readily from a part? And Sidonius is now in the Auvergne -- from which it follows that the thing was composed by him and heard by this man." They flew into a fury, heaping abuse on a man who was absent, unknowing, and innocent. No allowance was made for his conscience, his loyalty, or for proper inquiry. Thus a popular demagogue dragged the easy credulity of a fickle crowd wherever he wished.

5. For Paeonius was entirely a man of the mob, one who frequently whipped up the sea of sedition with his demagogic blasts. Otherwise, if you asked "What is his family, and from where?" he was of no more than municipal birth, a man whose early career had been advanced more by the distinction of his stepfather than of his own father. Yet he was constantly striving to rise by fair means or foul, stingy with money out of avarice but lavish with it out of ambition. To marry his daughter -- a most honorable girl, to be sure -- into a superior family, our Chremes [a stock name from comedy for a stingy father] had, they say, named a splendid dowry for his Pamphilus, in defiance of the strict customs of civic tradition.

6. When Marcellian's conspiracy to seize the diadem was being hatched, Paeonius had set himself up as the standard-bearer for the noble young men in the faction -- still a newcomer even in old age -- until at last, thanks to his proven record of fortunate daring, the crack of a gaping interregnum shed a gleam of light on the obscurity of his birth. For when the court was empty and the state in turmoil, he alone was found who dared to gird himself with the fasces for the administration of Gaul before even receiving his official commission, and for many months he mounted the tribunal of illustrious authority as a prefect of the spectabilis rank, only completing the last term of his service after scarcely a year with the honorary title -- in the manner of accountants or rather lawyers, whose dignities begin just when their actual work ends.

7. So this man, a prefect and senator of such character -- and I owe it to his family's character that I do not give him the full tribute of praise he deserves -- stirred up the hatred of many, though not of the good, against me while I was still ignorant and still his friend, as though I were the only man of my generation who could compose verse. I came to Arles, suspecting nothing (and how could I?), though my enemies assumed I would not come. After paying my respects to the emperor the next day, I went down to the forum as was customary. When this was observed, the sedition, which had "dared nothing bold," as the poet says, immediately took fright. Some threw themselves at my knees more than was proper; others fled behind statues or hid behind columns to avoid even greeting me; still others walked beside me, grim and scowling.

8. At this I marveled at the excessive pride of the one group and the excessive humility of the other, but refrained from asking the reasons. Then one of the factious crowd, planted for the purpose, came up to greet me. In the course of our conversation he said: "Do you see these people?" "I see them," I said, "and I wonder at their behavior, though I am not astonished by it." Our interpreter then said: "They either curse you or fear you as a satirist." "On what grounds? Why? When?" I replied. "Who recognized the charge? Who brought it? Who proved it?" Then, smiling: "Go, friend, if you do not mind, and be good enough to consult these men who are swelling with indignation in my name -- whether the accuser or informer who fabricated the charge that I wrote a satire also fabricated a copy of the whole thing. In which case it might be safer for them, on reflection, to stop being arrogant."

9. When this message was delivered, they all immediately, not modestly or one by one but hastily and in a crowd, gave me kisses and handshakes. Only my dear Curio [Paeonius, ironically called after the Roman tribune], inveighing against the perfidy of his deserters, was as evening came on carried home and hauled off by his sedan-chair bearers -- men gloomier than undertakers.

10. The next day the emperor ordered that we attend his banquet and the circus games. In the first place on the left horn of the couch reclined the consul ordinarius Severinus, a man of unfailing favor amid the great upheavals of emperors and the unsteady state of the republic. Next to him was Magnus, formerly prefect and lately consul, a person doubled in honor by his twin dignities, with his nephew Camillus reclining behind him -- a young man who had himself held two offices and thereby adorned both his father's proconsulship and his uncle's consulship. Beyond them lay Paeonius, and then Athenius, a man seasoned by the vicissitudes of lawsuits and politics. After him came Gratianensis, a man who should be kept well apart from any hint of infamy, who though he ranked below Severinus in honor surpassed him in favor. I reclined last, where the left margin of the emperor's couch extended to the right.

11. When much of the meal was finished, the emperor addressed the consul -- a brief exchange. The conversation then moved to the ex-consul, and since it turned to literary matters, was frequently renewed. It then passed by natural occasion to the illustrious Camillus, to such a degree that the emperor said: "You truly have an uncle, brother Camillus, on whose account I am glad to have bestowed one consulship on your family." To which Camillus, who had been hoping for something of the sort, seized the moment: "Not one, my lord Augustus, but the first." The remark was received with such applause that not even the emperor's presence could restrain it.

12. Then, asking Athenius some question or other, the emperor's address skipped over Paeonius who sat above him -- whether by chance or design, I do not know. When Paeonius took this slight badly (and badly indeed), he made it worse by answering for the man who had actually been addressed but sat silent. The emperor smiled -- for he was a man who, when he gave himself to sociable occasions, was full of wit while preserving his authority -- and by that chuckle he gave Athenius no less satisfaction for his vindication than Paeonius had given him injury. The shrewd old senator collected himself, seething inwardly as always with the heat of wounded pride at being outranked by Paeonius, and said: "I am not surprised, Augustus, that this man tries to steal my place to stand when he is not ashamed to invade your right to speak."

13. And the illustrious Gratianensis added: "A wide field for satirists is opened by this quarrel." At this the emperor turned his head toward me: "I hear, Count Sidonius, that you write satire." "And I, my lord," I replied, "hear the same thing." Then he said, but laughing: "Spare us at least." "But I," I said, "spare myself by refraining from what is unlawful." After this he asked: "And what shall we do with those who provoke you?" "Whoever he is, my lord emperor," I said, "let him bring a public accusation. If I am proved guilty, I shall pay the penalties I deserve. But if I manage to refute the charges without difficulty, I beg that by your gracious indulgence, without violating the law, I may write whatever I wish against my accuser."

14. At this he glanced at Paeonius and began to consult him with a nod, but the latter merely wavered. When he fell into embarrassed silence and the emperor pressed him, the emperor said: "I grant your request, if you will make this very petition on the spot in verse." "Done," I said, and turning back, as though calling for water for my hands, I paused only as long as it took for the attendants to make their quick circuit of the couch, then returned my elbow to the cushion. The emperor said: "You had promised to petition for the right to write satire in impromptu verse." And I replied:

"Great prince, whoever blames me for writing satire --
I ask that you decree: let him either prove his charge or fear it."

15. The applause that followed was, if I may say so without boasting, equal to what Camillus had received -- earned less by the dignity of the verse than by the brevity of its composition. And the emperor said: "I call God and the state to witness that I shall never again forbid you to write whatever you wish, since the charge brought against you can in no way be proved. At the same time, it is deeply unjust for the imperial judgment to lend its weight to private grudges, so that an innocent and carefree nobility is endangered on account of certain hatreds by an uncertain charge." When I bowed my head respectfully in thanks for this verdict, the faces of my accuser began to turn pale -- faces on which sorrow had recently followed anger. They very nearly froze as though ordered to bare their necks to a drawn sword.

16. After a few more exchanges, we rose. We had scarcely moved out of the emperor's sight and were still putting on our cloaks when the consul fell at my chest, the ex-prefects at my hands, and my so-called friend himself repeatedly and abjectly humiliated himself before me, to the pity of all present -- so much so that I feared he might stir up more resentment by his begging than he had raised by his accusations. In the end, pressed by the entreaties of the assembled dignitaries, I told him that I would never retaliate in verse against his schemes, provided he ceased to attack my reputation in the future. For it should be enough that the charge of satire had earned me fame -- and him, infamy.

17. In short, my dear lord, I shook up not merely the accuser of the slander but the whisperer. But since satisfaction was made to me in such a way that the highest offices and dignities humbled themselves before me on his behalf, I confess that such a beginning of insult was worth the price, when its end was glory. Farewell.

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

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