To Turnus.
How fitting for your name and your situation are those lines of the Mantuan poet [Virgil]: "Turnus, what no god would have dared promise to your prayers, the turning of the days has brought about of its own accord."
Your father Turpio, a man of tribunician rank, borrowed money some time ago — if you remember — from Maximus Palatinus. He put up no security, no silver, no property as collateral. But as the signed contract shows, interest was set at one percent per month [centesima — twelve percent per year], which over ten years doubled the original sum.
When your father fell mortally ill and the public authorities began pressing a dying head of household to repay the debt, and the relentlessness of the collectors became unbearable, he wrote to me in desperation as I was setting out for Toulouse, begging me to ask your creditor for at least a brief extension. I agreed at once, since Maximus and I share not only acquaintance but the ancient bonds of hospitality. So I gladly detoured from my road to visit my friend, even though his estate was several miles off the public highway.
When I arrived, the man I had known — formerly upright in bearing, quick in step, free in speech, generous in expression — came out to meet me vastly changed. He wore the garb of a religious life: a measured gait, a look of modesty, a devout complexion and voice, cropped hair and a long beard, tripod stools, curtains of Cilician cloth [rough goat-hair fabric associated with ascetic life] at his doors, a bed without down, a table without purple, hospitality that was generous but frugal — more legumes than meat, and any richer food served not for himself but for his guests.
I quietly asked the attendants which of the three orders he had entered — monk, cleric, or penitent. They told me he had recently and reluctantly been made a priest, the love of his fellow citizens having forcibly bound him to the office despite his protests.
The next day, while the servants and clients were out hunting, I asked for a private conversation. He agreed. I embraced him, congratulated him first on his new station, then wove in my plea. I laid out Turpio's situation, described his desperate straits, and deplored the harshness of a man being bound by debt while being released by death. I asked him to remember his new profession and his old friendship, to restrain the savage insistence of the howling debt collectors by granting a reprieve, and — if the sick man should die — to give his heirs the customary year of mourning free from demands; or if Turpio recovered, to let the exhausted man regain his strength in peace.
I was still speaking when this man of charity suddenly broke into heavy tears — not for the delay of the debt, but for the danger to the debtor. Choking back his sobs, he said: "God forbid that I, now a clergyman, should demand from a dying man what I would hardly have pressed from a healthy one back when I was a soldier. I love his children too, and even if the worst happens to our friend, I will ask of them no more than my sense of duty permits. So write to the anxious family — and so they trust your letter more, add mine to it — that whatever the outcome of his illness (and we pray it will be a good one for our brother), I will extend the repayment period by a full year and forgive the entire accumulated interest. I will be content with the return of the principal alone."
I gave enormous thanks to God and great thanks to my host, who loved his reputation as much as his conscience. I assured him that what he forgave to you, he was sending ahead of himself to heaven — that by not selling earthly kindness, he was purchasing a heavenly kingdom.
What remains is up to you: see to it that at least the principal is repaid promptly. Give generous thanks, and give them also on behalf of your siblings, who may be too young to understand what a gift they have received.
Do not start telling me: "I have co-heirs, the estate has not been divided, I was treated more harshly than my fellow heirs, my brother and sister are still minors, no husband has been found for my sister, no guardian for my brother, no guarantor for the guardian." All of that is fine to say to harsh creditors. But when a creditor is willing to forgive half the debt when he could demand the whole, and if he is then made to wait for what he mercifully conceded — what was given in pity he can justly reclaim for the injury. Farewell.
EPISTULA XXIV
Sidonius Turno suo salutem.
1. Bene nomini, bene negotio tuo congruit Mantuani illud:
Turne, quod optanti divum promittere nemo
auderet, volvenda dies en attulit ultro.
pecuniam pater tuus Turpio, vir tribunicius, mutuam pridem, si recordaris, a Maximo Palatino postulavit impetravitque, nil quidem loco fiduciae pignorisque vel argenti sequestrans vel obligans praediorum; sed, ut chirographo facto docetur, cauta centesima est faeneratori, quae per bilustre producta tempus modum sortis ad duplum adduxit.
2. sed cum pater tuus morti propinquae morbo incumbente succumberet atque ob hoc ipsum publica auctoritas male valentem patremfamilias violentius ad reformandum debitum artaret nec sustineri valeret improbitas executorum, proficiscenti mihi Tolosam iam desperatus litteris imperavit, ut me rogante creditor vester modicas saltim largiretur indutias. precibus orantis citus annui, quia cum Maximo mihi non notitiae solum verum et hospitii vetera iura. igitur ad amicum libens ex itinere perrexi, quamquam villa non paucis aggere a publico milibus abesset.
3. ut veni, occurrit mihi ipse, quem noveram anterius corpore erectum gressu expeditum, voce liberum facie liberalem, multum ab antiquo dissimilis incessu. habitus viro, gradus pudor, color sermo religiosus, tum coma brevis barba prolixa, tripodes sellae, Cilicum vela foribus appensa, lectus nil habens plumae, mensa nil purpurae, humanitas ipsa sic benigna quod frugi, nec ita carnibus abundans ut leguminibus; certe si quid in cibis unctius, non sibi sed hospitibus indulgens.
4. cum surgeremus, clam percontor adstantes, quod genus vitae de tribus arripuisset ordinibus, monachum ageret an clericum paenitentemve. dixerunt nuper impacto sacerdotio fungi, quo recusantem factiose ligasset civicus amor. luce revoluta, dum pueri clientesque capiendis animalibus occuparentur, secretae conlocutionis peto copiam. praestat: amplector nil opinantem gratularique me primum pro sui status apice confirmo, tum consequentes misceo preces.
5. Turpionis nostri rogata profero, allego necessitates, extrema deploro, quae duriora maerentibus amicis hinc viderentur, quod faenore ligatus corpore solveretur: meminisset ergo professionis novae, sodalitatis antiquae, exactorumque circumlatrantum barbaram instantiam indultis tantisper indutiis moderaretur; et, si decessisset aeger, tribueret heredibus annui luctus tempus immune; si, quod optarem, pristinam Turpio salutem recuperasset, indulgeret exhausto per otium facultatem convalescendi.
6. adhuc rogabam, cum repente vir caritatis flere granditer coepit non moram debiti sed periculum debitoris; frenatoque singultu: 'absit a me', inquit, 'ut haec reposcam clericus ab aegro, quae vix petissem miles a sospite. sed et liberos eius ita diligo, ut etiam, si quid adversum cesserit amico, nil sim ab his amplius postulaturus quam mei officii ratio permittit. quapropter scribe sollicitis quoque plus credant litteris tuis, meas iunge, quisquis ille fuerit languoris eventus, quem tamen fratri prosperum optamus, quod et annuum solutioni spatium prorogabo et superpositam medietatem, quae per usurae nomen accrevit, indulgeam, sola simpli restitutione contentus.'
7. egi ad haec gratias deo maximas, hospiti magnas, qui sic amaret tam suam famam quam conscientiam, confirmans amicum praemittere sibi quod dimitteret vobis, atque hinc superna regna mercari, quod beneficia terrena non venderet. ergo quod restat enitere, ut auctore te protinus saltim commodata summa solvatur, sic ut ingentes nihilominus gratias agas etiam nomine illorum, qui tibi germanitate coniuncti fors per aetatem sapere non possunt, quid muneris consequantur.
8. non est cur dicere incipias: 'habeo consortes necdum celebrata divisio est; avarius me constat esse tractatum quam coheredes; frater ac soror sub annis adhuc tutelaribus agunt; sorori necdum maritus, fratri necdum curator, curatori necdum satisdator inventus est.' quod quidem totum creditoribus bene, sed malis dicitur; at cum habet talis persona contractum, quae velit medium relaxare, cum totum possit exigere, si moram patitur, quicquid propter misericordiam concesserat pie, iuste reposcit propter iniuriam. vale.
◆
To Turnus.
How fitting for your name and your situation are those lines of the Mantuan poet [Virgil]: "Turnus, what no god would have dared promise to your prayers, the turning of the days has brought about of its own accord."
Your father Turpio, a man of tribunician rank, borrowed money some time ago — if you remember — from Maximus Palatinus. He put up no security, no silver, no property as collateral. But as the signed contract shows, interest was set at one percent per month [centesima — twelve percent per year], which over ten years doubled the original sum.
When your father fell mortally ill and the public authorities began pressing a dying head of household to repay the debt, and the relentlessness of the collectors became unbearable, he wrote to me in desperation as I was setting out for Toulouse, begging me to ask your creditor for at least a brief extension. I agreed at once, since Maximus and I share not only acquaintance but the ancient bonds of hospitality. So I gladly detoured from my road to visit my friend, even though his estate was several miles off the public highway.
When I arrived, the man I had known — formerly upright in bearing, quick in step, free in speech, generous in expression — came out to meet me vastly changed. He wore the garb of a religious life: a measured gait, a look of modesty, a devout complexion and voice, cropped hair and a long beard, tripod stools, curtains of Cilician cloth [rough goat-hair fabric associated with ascetic life] at his doors, a bed without down, a table without purple, hospitality that was generous but frugal — more legumes than meat, and any richer food served not for himself but for his guests.
I quietly asked the attendants which of the three orders he had entered — monk, cleric, or penitent. They told me he had recently and reluctantly been made a priest, the love of his fellow citizens having forcibly bound him to the office despite his protests.
The next day, while the servants and clients were out hunting, I asked for a private conversation. He agreed. I embraced him, congratulated him first on his new station, then wove in my plea. I laid out Turpio's situation, described his desperate straits, and deplored the harshness of a man being bound by debt while being released by death. I asked him to remember his new profession and his old friendship, to restrain the savage insistence of the howling debt collectors by granting a reprieve, and — if the sick man should die — to give his heirs the customary year of mourning free from demands; or if Turpio recovered, to let the exhausted man regain his strength in peace.
I was still speaking when this man of charity suddenly broke into heavy tears — not for the delay of the debt, but for the danger to the debtor. Choking back his sobs, he said: "God forbid that I, now a clergyman, should demand from a dying man what I would hardly have pressed from a healthy one back when I was a soldier. I love his children too, and even if the worst happens to our friend, I will ask of them no more than my sense of duty permits. So write to the anxious family — and so they trust your letter more, add mine to it — that whatever the outcome of his illness (and we pray it will be a good one for our brother), I will extend the repayment period by a full year and forgive the entire accumulated interest. I will be content with the return of the principal alone."
I gave enormous thanks to God and great thanks to my host, who loved his reputation as much as his conscience. I assured him that what he forgave to you, he was sending ahead of himself to heaven — that by not selling earthly kindness, he was purchasing a heavenly kingdom.
What remains is up to you: see to it that at least the principal is repaid promptly. Give generous thanks, and give them also on behalf of your siblings, who may be too young to understand what a gift they have received.
Do not start telling me: "I have co-heirs, the estate has not been divided, I was treated more harshly than my fellow heirs, my brother and sister are still minors, no husband has been found for my sister, no guardian for my brother, no guarantor for the guardian." All of that is fine to say to harsh creditors. But when a creditor is willing to forgive half the debt when he could demand the whole, and if he is then made to wait for what he mercifully conceded — what was given in pity he can justly reclaim for the injury. Farewell.
Modern English rendering for readability. See the 19th-century translation or original Latin/Greek for scholarly use.