To Donidius.
You ask why, having set out for Nimes some time ago, I am prolonging your suspense by my delayed return. I give you the reasons for my tardiness without delay — for what delights me will delight you too. I have been spending the most pleasurable time among the most beautiful estates and the most gracious hosts — Ferreolus and Apollinaris [two wealthy Gallo-Roman landowners]. Their properties share a common boundary and their houses are neighbors, separated by a walk that tires a pedestrian but does not satisfy a rider. The hills above the houses are tended by vine-growers and olive-growers; you would think them Aracynthus and Nysa — those heights celebrated in poets' songs. One house looks out over flat open land, the other over woodland, but the different settings give equal pleasure.
But why dwell on the layout of the estates when I still need to describe the hospitality? First, the most vigilant scouts were deployed to intercept our return journey, and both households posted watchmen not only on the main roads but along twisting shortcuts and shepherds' paths, lest by some accident we should slip through their well-laid ambush of courtesies. We ran into them — willingly, I confess — and were immediately made to swear an oath that we would not think about continuing our journey for seven full days.
So every morning began with a delightful contest between the hosts over who would first welcome us to their kitchen. Fair rotation could hardly decide the matter, though one house had the claim of kinship with me and the other with my companions — for Ferreolus, as a former prefect, was granted the right of first invitation by both seniority and rank.
We were swept from one delight to the next. The moment we crossed a threshold: on one side, pairs of ball-players whirling through acrobatic passes; on the other, the rattle of dice-boxes and the clattering of game-pieces amid the cries of competing players. Books were everywhere in abundance — you could have imagined yourself among the shelves of a school, the tiers of an Athenaeum, or a bookseller's well-stocked stall. The volumes near the ladies' chairs were religious works; those by the gentlemen's couches were distinguished by the grand style of Latin eloquence. Though different authors of different subjects maintained a comparable level of excellence: here Augustine, there Varro; here Horace, there Prudentius.
Among these, the works of Origen as translated by Rufinus were carefully inspected by our readers — and we debated, each according to his taste, why this author had been condemned as a dangerous commentator by some of the leading churchmen, even though his translation was so faithful that neither Apuleius translating Plato's Phaedo nor Cicero translating Demosthenes' Ctesiphon had rendered their originals into Latin so accurately.
While we were each occupied with these pursuits as we pleased, a messenger would arrive from the head cook announcing that it was time to nourish our bodies — a reminder whose punctuality was confirmed by the advancing hours on the water-clock. Lunch was brief but plentiful, in the senatorial manner — where the established custom is to serve many dishes on few plates, though the meal varies between roast and stewed courses. Over drinks, we exchanged little stories chosen to amuse and instruct us — stories doubly seasoned with laughter and learning. In short, we were treated with holiness, beauty, and abundance.
When we rose, if we were at Vorocingus [one estate's name], we returned to our lodgings and baggage. If at Prusiana [the other estate], we turned the sons — Tonantius and his brothers, the finest young nobles of their generation — out of their own beds, since our own bedding was not regularly carted between the two houses. After shaking off the midday torpor, we rode for a while to sharpen appetites dulled by lunch for the evening dinner.
Both hosts had baths in their buildings, though neither used them regularly. But whenever the thirsty crowd of my attendants and servants — over whose brains the hospitable bowls had gained too much dominion — finally stopped drinking, a trench was quickly dug near a spring or stream. Heated stones were tossed into it, and the smoking pit was covered with an arched frame of bent hazel-rods, then draped with Cilician cloths to block the light and trap the steam that the sprinkled water struck from the red-hot rocks.
Here we passed the hours in pleasant and witty conversation, and amid the billowing haze, a most wholesome sweat was drawn from our pores. When we had had enough, we plunged into baths of heated water; then, our sluggishness dissolved by the warmth, we solidified ourselves again in the cold of a well, a spring, or the river. For between the houses runs the Vardo — a river that, unless swollen with melting snow, runs clear and red over its golden gravel, transparent, quiet, and stony-bottomed, yet no less rich in delicious fish.
I would describe the dinners too — and lavish ones they were — if the page itself did not impose a limit that modesty has not. The retelling would make charming listening, but I would be ashamed to soil the back of this letter with my dripping pen. And since I too am about to set out, and plan — God willing — to visit you shortly, I can recount our friends' dinners more conveniently over our own, once the completion of this cherished week restores us to our proper hunger. For nothing repairs a stomach ruined by feasting better than abstinence. Farewell.
EPISTULA IX
Sidonius Donidio suo salutem.
1. Quaeris, cur ipse iam pridem Nemausum profectus vestra serum ob adventum desideria producam. reddo causas reditus tardioris nec moras meas prodere moror, quia quae mihi dulcia sunt tibi quoque. inter agros amoenissimos humanissimos dominos, Ferreolum et Apollinarem, tempus voluptuosissimum exegi. praediorum his iura contermina, domicilia vicina, quibus interiecta gestatio peditem lassat neque sufficit equitaturo. colles aedibus superiores exercentur vinitori et olivitori: Aracynthum et Nysam, celebrata poetarum carminibus iuga, censeas. uni domui in plana patentiaque, alteri in nemora prospectus, sed nihilominus dissimilis situs similiter oblectat.
2. quamquam de praediorum quid nunc amplius positione, cum restet hospitalitatis ordo reserandus? iam primum sagacissimis in hoc exploratoribus destinatis, qui reditus nostri iter aucuparentur, domus utraque non solum tramites aggerum publicorum verum etiam calles compendiis tortuosos atque pastoria diverticula insedit, ne quo casu dispositis officiorum insidiis elaberemur. quas incidimus, fateor, sed minime inviti iusque iurandum confestim praebere compulsi, ne priusquam septem dies evolverentur, quicquam de itineris nostri continuatione meditaremur.
3. igitur mane cotidiano partibus super hospite prima et grata contentio, quaenam potissimum anterius edulibus nostris culina fumaret; nec sane poterat ex aequo divisioni lancem ponere vicissitudo, licet uni domui mecum, alteri cum meis vinculum foret propinquitatis, quia Ferreolo praefectorio viro praeter necessitudinem sibi debitam dabat aetas et dignitas primi invitatoris praerogativam.
4. ilicet a deliciis in delicias rapiebamur. vix quodcumque vestibulum intratum, et ecce hac sphaeristarum contrastantium paria inter rotatiles catastropharum gyros duplicabantur, hac inter aleatoriarum vocum competitiones frequens crepitantium fritillorum tesserarumque strepitus audiebatur; hac libri affatim in promptu (videre te crederes aut grammaticales pluteos aut Athenaei cuneos aut armaria extructa bybliopolarum); sic tamen, quod qui inter matronarum cathedras codices erant, stilus his religiosus inveniebatur, qui vero per subsellia patrumfamilias, hi coturno Latiaris eloquii nobilitabantur; licet quaepiam volumina quorumpiam auctorum servarent in causis disparibus dicendi parilitatem: nam similis scientiae viri, hinc Augustinus hinc Varro, hinc Horatius hinc Prudentius lectitabantur.
5. quos inter Adamantius Origenes Turranio Rufino interpretatus sedulo fidei nostrae lectoribus inspiciebatur; pariter et, prout singulis cordi, diversa censentes sermocinabamur, cur a quibusdam protomystarum tamquam scaevus cavendusque tractator improbaretur, quamquam sic esset ad verbum sententiamque translatus, ut nec Apuleius Phaedonem sic Platonis neque Tullius Ctesiphontem sic Demosthenis in usum regulamque Romani sermonis exscripserint.
6. studiis hisce dum nostrum singuli quique, prout libuerat, occupabantur, ecce et ab archimagiro adventans, qui tempus instare curandi corpora moneret, quem quidem nuntium per spatia clepsydrae horarum incrementa servantem probabat competenter ingressum quinta digrediens. prandebamus breviter copiose, senatorium ad morem, quo insitum institutumque multas epulas paucis paropsidibus apponi, quamvis convivium per edulia nunc assa, nunc iurulenta varietur. inter bibendum narratiunculae, quarum cognitu hilararemur institueremur, quia eas bifariam orditas laetitia peritiaque comitabantur. quid multa? sancte pulchre abundanter accipiebamur.
7. inde surgentes, si Vorocingi eramus (hoc uni praedio nomen) ad sarcinas et deversorium pedem referebamus; si Prusiani (sic fundus alter nuncupabatur), Tonantium cum fratribus, lectissimos aequaevorum nobilium principes, stratis suis eiciebamus, quia nec facile crebro cubilium nostrorum instrumenta circumferebantur. excusso torpore meridiano paulisper equitabamus, quo facilius pectora marcida cibis cenatoriae fami exacueremus.
8. balneas habebat in opere uterque hospes, in usu neuter; sed cum vel pauxillulum bibere desisset assecularum meorum famulorumque turba conpotrix, quorum cerebris hospitales craterae nimium immersae dominabantur, vicina fonti aut fluvio raptim scrobis fodiebatur, in quam forte cum lapidum cumulus ambustus demitteretur, antro in hemisphaerii formam corylis flexilibus intexto fossa inardescens operiebatur, sic tamen, ut superiectis Cilicum velis patentia intervalla virgarum lumine excluso tenebrarentur, vaporem repulsura salientem, qui undae ferventis aspergine flammatis silicibus excuditur.
9. hic nobis trahebantur horae non absque sermonibus salsis iocularibusque; quos inter halitu nebulae stridentis oppletis involutisque saluberrimus sudor eliciebatur; quo, prout libuisset, effuso coctilibus aquis ingerebamur harumque fotu cruditatem nostram tergente resoluti aut fontano deinceps frigore putealique aut fluviali copia solidabamur: siquidem domibus medius it Vardo fluvius, nisi cum deflua nive pastus inpalluit, flavis ruber glareis et per alveum perspicuus quietus calculosusque neque ob hoc minus piscium ferax delicatorum.
10. dicerem et cenas et quidem unctissimas, nisi terminum nostrae loquacitati, quem verecundia non adhibet, charta posuisset; quarum quoque replicatio fieret amoena narratu, nisi epistulae tergum madidis sordidare calamis erubesceremus. sed quia et ipsi in procinctu sumus teque sub ope Christi actutum nobis invisere placet, expeditius tibi cenae amicorum in mea cena tuaque commemorabuntur, modo nos quam primum hebdomadis exactae spatia completa votivae restituant esuritioni, quia disruptum ganea stomachum nulla sarcire res melius quam parsimonia solet. vale.
◆
To Donidius.
You ask why, having set out for Nimes some time ago, I am prolonging your suspense by my delayed return. I give you the reasons for my tardiness without delay — for what delights me will delight you too. I have been spending the most pleasurable time among the most beautiful estates and the most gracious hosts — Ferreolus and Apollinaris [two wealthy Gallo-Roman landowners]. Their properties share a common boundary and their houses are neighbors, separated by a walk that tires a pedestrian but does not satisfy a rider. The hills above the houses are tended by vine-growers and olive-growers; you would think them Aracynthus and Nysa — those heights celebrated in poets' songs. One house looks out over flat open land, the other over woodland, but the different settings give equal pleasure.
But why dwell on the layout of the estates when I still need to describe the hospitality? First, the most vigilant scouts were deployed to intercept our return journey, and both households posted watchmen not only on the main roads but along twisting shortcuts and shepherds' paths, lest by some accident we should slip through their well-laid ambush of courtesies. We ran into them — willingly, I confess — and were immediately made to swear an oath that we would not think about continuing our journey for seven full days.
So every morning began with a delightful contest between the hosts over who would first welcome us to their kitchen. Fair rotation could hardly decide the matter, though one house had the claim of kinship with me and the other with my companions — for Ferreolus, as a former prefect, was granted the right of first invitation by both seniority and rank.
We were swept from one delight to the next. The moment we crossed a threshold: on one side, pairs of ball-players whirling through acrobatic passes; on the other, the rattle of dice-boxes and the clattering of game-pieces amid the cries of competing players. Books were everywhere in abundance — you could have imagined yourself among the shelves of a school, the tiers of an Athenaeum, or a bookseller's well-stocked stall. The volumes near the ladies' chairs were religious works; those by the gentlemen's couches were distinguished by the grand style of Latin eloquence. Though different authors of different subjects maintained a comparable level of excellence: here Augustine, there Varro; here Horace, there Prudentius.
Among these, the works of Origen as translated by Rufinus were carefully inspected by our readers — and we debated, each according to his taste, why this author had been condemned as a dangerous commentator by some of the leading churchmen, even though his translation was so faithful that neither Apuleius translating Plato's Phaedo nor Cicero translating Demosthenes' Ctesiphon had rendered their originals into Latin so accurately.
While we were each occupied with these pursuits as we pleased, a messenger would arrive from the head cook announcing that it was time to nourish our bodies — a reminder whose punctuality was confirmed by the advancing hours on the water-clock. Lunch was brief but plentiful, in the senatorial manner — where the established custom is to serve many dishes on few plates, though the meal varies between roast and stewed courses. Over drinks, we exchanged little stories chosen to amuse and instruct us — stories doubly seasoned with laughter and learning. In short, we were treated with holiness, beauty, and abundance.
When we rose, if we were at Vorocingus [one estate's name], we returned to our lodgings and baggage. If at Prusiana [the other estate], we turned the sons — Tonantius and his brothers, the finest young nobles of their generation — out of their own beds, since our own bedding was not regularly carted between the two houses. After shaking off the midday torpor, we rode for a while to sharpen appetites dulled by lunch for the evening dinner.
Both hosts had baths in their buildings, though neither used them regularly. But whenever the thirsty crowd of my attendants and servants — over whose brains the hospitable bowls had gained too much dominion — finally stopped drinking, a trench was quickly dug near a spring or stream. Heated stones were tossed into it, and the smoking pit was covered with an arched frame of bent hazel-rods, then draped with Cilician cloths to block the light and trap the steam that the sprinkled water struck from the red-hot rocks.
Here we passed the hours in pleasant and witty conversation, and amid the billowing haze, a most wholesome sweat was drawn from our pores. When we had had enough, we plunged into baths of heated water; then, our sluggishness dissolved by the warmth, we solidified ourselves again in the cold of a well, a spring, or the river. For between the houses runs the Vardo — a river that, unless swollen with melting snow, runs clear and red over its golden gravel, transparent, quiet, and stony-bottomed, yet no less rich in delicious fish.
I would describe the dinners too — and lavish ones they were — if the page itself did not impose a limit that modesty has not. The retelling would make charming listening, but I would be ashamed to soil the back of this letter with my dripping pen. And since I too am about to set out, and plan — God willing — to visit you shortly, I can recount our friends' dinners more conveniently over our own, once the completion of this cherished week restores us to our proper hunger. For nothing repairs a stomach ruined by feasting better than abstinence. Farewell.
Modern English rendering for readability. See the 19th-century translation or original Latin/Greek for scholarly use.