To Pannychius.
You know that Seronatus [a corrupt Roman official who collaborated with the Visigoths] is returning to Toulouse — or if you do not know yet (and I believe you do not), learn it from these signs. Already Euanthius is hurrying ahead to Clausetia, assembling work-crews to clear whatever autumn leaves may have fouled the road — and wherever the ground is swampy, he anxiously fills in the ruts with carted earth, leveling everything smooth. He is, of course, the advance scout for his master's approach, like the pilot fish that swim ahead of whales through rocky shallows.
That creature — slow with his bulk though swift in rage — emerges from his lair like a dragon barely unwound, and already the terrified people of Javols [a small Gallic city in the Massif Central] feel his approach. He drains them one by one — scattered, unfortified — with unheard-of varieties of taxation, and ensnares them with the twisting frauds of his calumnies, not even allowing these exhausted laborers to return home once they have paid their annual tribute.
Another sure sign of his imminent arrival: wherever he turns, prisoners are dragged in chains behind him. He rejoices in their pain, feeds on their hunger, and considers it especially fine to humiliate the condemned before punishing them — he shaves the men's heads and crops the women's hair. If rare mercy touches any of them, it is venality that sets some free, vanity that releases others, but never compassion. Neither Cicero himself nor Virgil would be equal to describing such a beast.
Therefore, since this plague is reportedly drawing near — may God stand in its way — take preventive medicine: settle any lawsuits before they attract his attention, protect yourself against the tax-collectors with receipts of payment, so this wicked man finds nothing in honest men's affairs to harm or to profit from. In short, do you want to know what I think of Seronatus? Other men fear him for the damage he can do; I find even his favors suspicious. Farewell.
EPISTULA XIII
Sidonius Pannychio suo salutem.
1. Seronatum Tolosa nosti redire; si nondum, et credo quod nondum, vel per haec disce. iam Clausetiam pergit Euanthius iamque contractas operas cogit eruderare, si quid forte deiectu caducae frondis agger insorduit. certe si quid voraginosum est, ipse humo advecta scrobibus oppletis trepidus exaequat, utpote beluam suam de valle Tarnis ducaliter antecessurus, musculis similis inter saxosa vel brevia ballaenarum corpulentiam praegubernantibus.
2. at ille sic ira celer, quod piger mole, seu draco e specu vix evolutus iam metu exanguibus Gabalitanis e proximo infertur; quos singulos sparsos inoppidatos nunc inauditis indictionum generibus exhaurit, nunc flexuosa calumniarum fraude circumretit, ne tum quidem domum laboriosos redire permittens, cum tributum annuum datavere.
3. signum et hoc certum est imminentis adventus, quod catervatim, quo se cumque converterit, vincti trahuntur vincula trahentes; quorum dolore laetatur, pascitur fame, praecipue pulchrum arbitratus ante turpare quam punire damnandos; crinem viris nutrit, mulieribus incidit; e quibus tamen si rara quosdam venia respexerit, hos venalitas solvit, vanitas illos, nullos misericordia. sed explicandae bestiae tali nec oratorum princeps Marcus Arpinas nec poetarum Publius Mantuanus sufficere possunt.
4. proinde quia dicitur haec ipsa pernicies appropinquare, cuius proditionibus deus obviet, praeveni morbum providentiae salubritate contraque lites iurgiosorum, si quae moventur, pactionibus consule, contra tributa securitatibus, ne malus homo rebus bonorum vel quod noceat vel quod praestet inveniat. in summa, de Seronato vis accipere quid sentiam? ceteri affligi per suprascriptum damno verentur; mihi latronis et beneficia suspecta sunt. vale.
◆
To Pannychius.
You know that Seronatus [a corrupt Roman official who collaborated with the Visigoths] is returning to Toulouse — or if you do not know yet (and I believe you do not), learn it from these signs. Already Euanthius is hurrying ahead to Clausetia, assembling work-crews to clear whatever autumn leaves may have fouled the road — and wherever the ground is swampy, he anxiously fills in the ruts with carted earth, leveling everything smooth. He is, of course, the advance scout for his master's approach, like the pilot fish that swim ahead of whales through rocky shallows.
That creature — slow with his bulk though swift in rage — emerges from his lair like a dragon barely unwound, and already the terrified people of Javols [a small Gallic city in the Massif Central] feel his approach. He drains them one by one — scattered, unfortified — with unheard-of varieties of taxation, and ensnares them with the twisting frauds of his calumnies, not even allowing these exhausted laborers to return home once they have paid their annual tribute.
Another sure sign of his imminent arrival: wherever he turns, prisoners are dragged in chains behind him. He rejoices in their pain, feeds on their hunger, and considers it especially fine to humiliate the condemned before punishing them — he shaves the men's heads and crops the women's hair. If rare mercy touches any of them, it is venality that sets some free, vanity that releases others, but never compassion. Neither Cicero himself nor Virgil would be equal to describing such a beast.
Therefore, since this plague is reportedly drawing near — may God stand in its way — take preventive medicine: settle any lawsuits before they attract his attention, protect yourself against the tax-collectors with receipts of payment, so this wicked man finds nothing in honest men's affairs to harm or to profit from. In short, do you want to know what I think of Seronatus? Other men fear him for the damage he can do; I find even his favors suspicious. Farewell.
Modern English rendering for readability. See the 19th-century translation or original Latin/Greek for scholarly use.