Letter 5007: To Thaumastus [brother of Apollinaris, a kinsman of Sidonius].

Sidonius ApollinarisThaumastus|c. 467 AD|Sidonius Apollinaris
barbarian invasiondiplomaticfriendshipimperial politicsproperty economicstravel mobility

To Thaumastus [brother of Apollinaris, a kinsman of Sidonius].

We have finally tracked down the men who have been slandering your brother's friendships at the court of our tetrarch [the Burgundian king Chilperic] — and equally those of the new emperor's faction — if indeed the careful detective work of our friends has not been thrown off by the conspirators' hidden tracks. They are precisely the men whom you yourself heard named when I was with you face to face — the very men that Gaul groans to endure among its otherwise moderate barbarians. These are the men feared even by those who are feared. These are the men whose special province in our territory is to fabricate charges, inform on persons, deliver threats, and carry off property.

These are the men whose busy scheming in peacetime, whose plunder in times of peace, whose flight in times of war, and whose battlefield victories over wine you hear praised. These are the men who delay lawsuits when retained, obstruct them when passed over, sneer when reminded, forget when bribed. These are the men who buy quarrels and sell intercessions, assign arbitrators, dictate verdicts, overturn what has been decided, attract those about to litigate, drag out those waiting to be heard, drag in the convicted, and drag back those trying to settle.

If you seek a favor from them — even when no one opposes it — they are annoyed to promise, ashamed to refuse, and sorry to have given. Narcissus, Asiaticus, Massa, Marcellus, Carus, Parthenius, Licinus, and Pallas [notorious Roman imperial freedmen and corrupt officials] would raise their hands in surrender at the comparison. These are the men who begrudge civilians their rest, soldiers their pay, couriers their expenses, merchants their markets, ambassadors their gifts, customs-collectors their tolls, provincials their estates, municipal officers their priesthoods, treasurers their scales, tax-assessors their measures, accountants their salaries, secretaries their duties, palace guards their bonuses, cities their truces, tax-farmers their revenues, clergy their respect, nobles their birth, seniors their seats, equals their company, officials their laws, and civilians their privileges.

Drunk on new wealth — and here you see their character even in small things — their very extravagance in spending betrays their inexperience in possessing. They cheerfully appear armed at dinner parties, in white at funerals, in furs at church, in black at weddings, and in beaver-skin cloaks at religious processions. No class of people, no station, no season is sacred to them. In the forum they are Scythians; in private, vipers; at dinner, buffoons; in tax-collection, Harpies; in conversation, statues; in interrogation, beasts; in deliberation, snails; in business dealings, money-changers. They are stone to understanding, wood to judgment, fire to anger, iron to forgiveness, leopards in friendship, bears in wit, foxes in deceit, bulls in pride, and Minotaurs in consumption.

They place their firmest hopes in upheaval, love uncertain times with a certainty, and — trembling equally from cowardice and guilty conscience — though lions in the council chamber, they are hares in the field: they fear treaties lest they be examined, and war lest they have to fight. If the scent of some rusty purse reaches their nostrils, you will immediately see deployed the eyes of Argus, the hands of Briareus, the claws of the Sphinx, the perjuries of Laomedon, the cunning of Ulysses, the tricks of Sinon, the loyalty of Polymestor, and the piety of Pygmalion [all mythological examples of deception, violence, and betrayal].

It is men of this character who overwhelm a prince no less good in nature than great in power. But what can one man do, surrounded on all sides by poisonous interpreters? What, I say, can he do — a man whose nature belongs to the good but whose life is spent among the wicked? Following their counsel, Phalaris would become crueler, Midas greedier, Ancus more boastful, Tarquin prouder, Tiberius more cunning, Caligula more dangerous, Claudius more stupid, Nero more depraved, Galba more miserly, Otho more reckless, Vitellius more extravagant, and Domitian more brutal.

But — and this is the chief comfort of the afflicted — our Lucumo [the Burgundian king, compared to the Etruscan king Tarquin] is tempered by his Tanaquil [the queen, compared to Tarquin's wise wife], who has been wisely cleaning her husband's ears of the poisonous filth poured in by whisperers, using well-timed and witty talk. Through her efforts — and you should know this — the venom of these young courtiers has so far done no harm to the peace of our mutual friends in the mind of our shared patron, and with God's favor will do none, so long as the present power governs Gallia Lugdunensis and our own Agrippina [the queen, with a nod to the powerful Roman empress] moderates our Germanicus [the king]. Farewell.

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

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