Letter 4012: To Simplicius and Apollinaris [Sidonius's relatives, probably his son and another kinsman].

To Simplicius and Apollinaris [Sidonius's relatives, probably his son and another kinsman]. Good God, how like a storm-tossed sea is the agitation of the human spirit — we are thrown into confusion by the squalls of adverse news as though by our own personal tempests! Recently my son and I were savoring the wit of Terence's Hecyra [The Mother-in-Law, a Roman comedy]. I sat beside him as he studied — mindful of my nature as a father, forgetful of my profession as a bishop — the more fluently he followed the rhythms of comic verse with his quick intelligence. I myself had in my hands a play of similar subject — the Epitrepontes [The Arbitration] by Menander. We were reading together, praising, joking — and, as is every parent's prayer, I was as captivated by him as he was by the book. Suddenly a household slave appeared with a troubled face. "What is it?" we asked. "I saw the lector Constans returning from the masters Simplicius and Apollinaris at the door," he said. "He delivered the letters he had received but lost the ones he was bringing back." At this news, the sunshine of my happiness was instantly darkened by a cloud of gloom. The contradiction of this report stirred such bile in me that for many days I refused to let that most stolid blockhead come into my sight — and I would have been furious if any letters at all, from anyone at all, had failed to reach me, let alone yours, which will always be, as long as my mind stays sound, the rarest and the most desired. But after my anger gradually subsided with time, I questioned the admitted fool: had he brought any verbal message besides? He replied — though trembling and stammering, his face red with guilt and his eyes unfocused — that everything I could have wanted for instruction or pleasure had been entrusted to the pages that were lost. So go back to your writing tablets, unroll your parchments, and rewrite what you wrote. For I will patiently accept the interference of bad luck with my longing only until you receive word that your letter never reached me. Farewell.

EPISTULA XII Sidonius Simplicio et Apollinari suis salutem. 1. Deus bone, quantum naufragioso pelago conformis est motus animorum, quippe cum nuntiorum turbinibus adversis quasi propria tempestate confundimur! nuper ego filiusque communis Terentianae Hecyrae sales ruminabamus; studenti assidebam naturae meminens et professionis oblitus quoque absolutius rhythmos comicos incitata docilitate sequeretur, ipse etiam fabulam similis argumenti id est Epitrepontem Menandri in manibus habebam. 2. legebamus pariter laudabamus iocabamurque et, quae vota communia sunt, illum lectio, me ille capiebat, cum repente puer familiaris adstitit vultuosus. cui nos: 'quid ita?' et ille: 'lectorem', inquit, 'Constantem nomine pro foribus vidi a dominis Simplicio et Apollinare redeuntem; dedit quidem litteras quas acceperat sed perdidit quas recepit.' 3. quibus agnitis serenitas laetitiae meae confestim nubilo superducti maeroris insorduit tantamque mihi bilem nuntii huiusce contrarietas excitavit, ut per plurimos dies illum ipsum hermam stolidissimum venire ante oculos meos inexoratus arcuerim, laturus aegre, si mihi apices aut quoscumque aut quorumcumque non redderet, taceam vestros, qui mihi, dum recti compos animus durat, minime frequentes maxime desiderabiles iudicabuntur. 4. at postquam nostra sensim temporis intervallo ira defremuit, percontor admissum, num verbo quippiam praeterea detulisset. respondit ipse, quamquam esset trepidus et sternax et prae reatu balbutiret ore, caecutiret intuitu, totum quo instrui, quo delectari valerem, paginis quae intercidissent fuisse mandatum. quocirca recurrite ad pugillares, replicate membranas et scripta rescribite. tamdiu enim aequanimiter admitto, ut desiderio meo sinister eventus officiat, donec ad vos nostro sermone perveniat ad nos vestrum non pervenisse sermonem, valete.