To the Lord Bishop Patiens [Bishop of Lyon, celebrated for his extraordinary generosity during the famines that followed Gothic devastation].
I believe that the man who truly lives for his own good is the one who lives for the good of others — who, moved by compassion for the calamities and poverty of the faithful, performs the works of heaven here on earth. Where is this going, you ask? This verdict is directed above all at you, most blessed bishop, for whom it is not enough merely to bring help to the hardships you know about. Extending the reach of your charity to the farthest boundaries of Gaul, you are accustomed to attending to the causes of the needy before examining their identities.
No one's poverty or weakness suffers if they cannot reach you — for you reach with your own hands the person who could not come to you on his own feet. Your vigilance crosses into other provinces, and the breadth of your care spreads to console the afflictions of those far away. And so, because you are moved no less by the modesty of the absent than by the complaints of the present, you have often dried the tears of people whose eyes you have never seen.
I pass over the sleepless vigils, the prayers, and the expenses you endure every day on behalf of your impoverished fellow citizens. I pass over your unfailing balance of generosity and self-denial — so that the king praises your dinners while the queen praises your fasts. I pass over your beautification of the church entrusted to you, so that an observer cannot tell whether the new buildings are more impressive or the restored old ones.
I pass over the many churches whose foundations you have laid and whose ornaments you have doubled. I pass over the way you have reduced only the number of heretics while increasing everything else in the state of the faith — trapping the savage minds of the Photinians [an Arian-like heresy] in the nets of your spiritual preaching, so that the barbarians who follow you, whenever they are refuted by your word, will not leave your side until you, that most fortunate fisher of souls, have drawn them from the deep waters of error.
But the thing that can be claimed as uniquely yours — as the lawyers say, by right of special privilege — and which even your modesty cannot deny: after the Gothic devastation, after the harvests were consumed by fire, you sent free grain at your own private expense to the desolate communities of Gaul. This would have been an enormous gift even if the grain had been sold rather than given away. We saw the roads choked with your supplies; we saw granary after granary — filled by you alone — along the banks of the Saone and Rhone.
Let the myths of the pagans give way — the story of Triptolemus [the mythical inventor of agriculture], whom Greece celebrated with temples, statues, and images, said to have wandered with two ships (which poets later reimagined as dragons) distributing the unknown art of sowing among the primitive peoples of Dodona. You, to say nothing of your inland generosity, filled not two ships but two rivers with your grain, destined to feed the cities of the Tyrrhenian coast.
If my freely choosing a pagan example offends a man praised for his holiness, then let us set aside the mystical interpretation and compare the literal diligence of the venerable patriarch Joseph, who easily provided a remedy for the seven years of famine that followed the seven years of plenty — because he foresaw it. Yet in my moral judgment, a man who meets a similar crisis without divine foreknowledge but still provides relief is no less admirable.
Therefore, though I cannot fully measure the gratitude owed to you by the people of Arles, Riez, Avignon, Orange, Alba, Valence, and Die — for it is hard to gauge the prayers of those who received food at no cost — I do offer the most abundant thanks on behalf of the city of Clermont. No bond of shared province, no proximity of city, no convenience of river, no offer of payment induced you to help us. And so through me they give enormous thanks — all those to whom the abundance of your bread brought the sufficiency they needed.
If I have adequately fulfilled the duties of my commission, let me pass from ambassador to herald. Know this: your fame runs through all of Aquitaine. You are loved, praised, longed for, and honored. In every heart and every prayer — amid these evil times — you are a good priest, a good father, and a good harvest to those for whom it was worthwhile to have endured their famine as a trial, if there was no other way for your generosity to become known. Be mindful of us, my lord bishop.
EPISTULA XII
Sidonius domino papae Patienti salutem.
1. Aliquis aliquem, ego illum praecipue puto suo vivere bono, qui vivit alieno quique fidelium calamitates indigentiamque miseratus facit in terris opera caelorum. 'quorsum istaec?' inquis. te ista sententia quam maxume, papa beatissime, petit, cui non sufficit illis tantum necessitatibus opem ferre, quas noveris, quique usque in extimos terminos Galliarum caritatis indage porrecta prius soles indigentum respicere causas quam inspicere personas.
2. nullius obest tenuitati debilitatique, si te expetere non possit. nam praevenis manibus illum, qui non valuerit ad te pedibus pervenire. transit in alienas provincias vigilantia tua et in hoc curae tuae latitudo diffunditur, ut longe positorum consoletur angustias; et hinc fit, ut, quia crebro te non minus absentum verecundia quam praesentum querimonia movet, saepe terseris eorum lacrimas, quorum oculos non vidisti.
3. omitto illa, quae cotidie propter defectionem civium pauperatorum inrequietis toleras excubiis precibus expensis. omitto te tali semper agere temperamento, sic semper humanum, sic abstemium iudicari, ut constet indesinenter regem praesentem prandia tua, reginam laudare ieiunia. omitto tanto te cultu ecclesiam tibi creditam convenustare, ut dubitet inspector, meliusne nova opera consurgant an vetusta reparentur.
4. omitto per te plurimis locis basilicarum fundamenta consurgere, ornamenta duplicari; cumque multa in statu fidei tuis dispositionibus augeantur, solum haereticorum numerum minui, teque quodam venatu apostolico feras Fotinianorum mentes spiritalium praedicationum cassibus implicare, atque a tuo barbaros iam sequaces, quotiens convincuntur verbo, non exire vestigio, donec eos a profundo gurgite erroris felicissimus animarum piscator extraxeris.
5. et horum aliqua tamen cum reliquis forsitan communicanda collegis; illud autem deberi tibi quodam, ut iurisconsulti dicunt, praecipui titulo nec tuus poterit ire pudor infitias, quod post Gothicam depopulationem, post segetes incendio absumptas peculiari sumptu inopiae communi per desolatas Gallias gratuita frumenta misisti, cum tabescentibus fame populis nimium contulisses, si commercio fuisset species ista, non muneri. vidimus angustas tuis frugibus vias; vidimus per Araris et Rhodani ripas non unum, quod unus impleveras, horreum.
6. fabularum cedant figmenta gentilium et ille quasi in caelum relatus pro reperta spicarum novitate Triptolemus, quem Graecia sua, caementariis pictoribus significibusque illustris, sacravit templis formavit statuis effigiavit imaginibus. illum dubia fama concinnat per rudes adhuc et Dodonigenas populos duabus vagum navibus, quibus poetae deinceps formam draconum deputaverunt, ignotam circumtulisse sementem. tu, ut de mediterranea taceam largitate, victum civitatibus Tyrrheni maris erogaturus granariis tuis duo potius flumina quam duo navigia complesti.
7. sed si forte Achaicis Eleusinae superstitionis exemplis tamquam non idoneis religiosus laudatus offenditur, seposita mystici intellectus reverentia venerabilis patriarchae Ioseph historialem diligentiam comparemus, qui contra sterilitatem septem uberes annos insecuturam facile providit remedium, quod praevidit. secundum tamen moralem sententiam nihil iudicio meo minor est qui in superveniente simili necessitate non divinat et subvenit.
8. quapropter, etsi ad integrum conicere non possum, quantas tibi gratias Arelatensis Reiensis Avenniocus Arausionensis quoque et Albensis, Valentinaeque nec non et Tricastinae urbis possessor exsolvat, quia difficile est eorum ex asse vota metiri, quibus noveris alimoniam sine asse collatam, Arverni tamen oppidi ego nomine uberes perquam gratias ago, cui ut succurrere meditarere, non te communio provinciae, non proximitas civitatis, non opportunitas fluvii, non oblatio pretii adduxit.
9. itaque ingentes per me referunt grates quibus obtigit per panis tui abundantiam ad sui sufficientiam pervenire. igitur si mandati officii munia satis videor explesse, ex legato nuntius ero. ilicet scias volo: per omnem fertur Aquitaniam gloria tua; amaris laudaris, desideraris excoleris, omnium pectoribus, omnium votis. inter haec temporum mala bonus sacerdos, bonus pater, bonus annus es quibus operae pretium fuit fieri famem suam periculo, si aliter esse non poterat tua largitas experimento. memor nostri esse dignare, domine papa.
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To the Lord Bishop Patiens [Bishop of Lyon, celebrated for his extraordinary generosity during the famines that followed Gothic devastation].
I believe that the man who truly lives for his own good is the one who lives for the good of others — who, moved by compassion for the calamities and poverty of the faithful, performs the works of heaven here on earth. Where is this going, you ask? This verdict is directed above all at you, most blessed bishop, for whom it is not enough merely to bring help to the hardships you know about. Extending the reach of your charity to the farthest boundaries of Gaul, you are accustomed to attending to the causes of the needy before examining their identities.
No one's poverty or weakness suffers if they cannot reach you — for you reach with your own hands the person who could not come to you on his own feet. Your vigilance crosses into other provinces, and the breadth of your care spreads to console the afflictions of those far away. And so, because you are moved no less by the modesty of the absent than by the complaints of the present, you have often dried the tears of people whose eyes you have never seen.
I pass over the sleepless vigils, the prayers, and the expenses you endure every day on behalf of your impoverished fellow citizens. I pass over your unfailing balance of generosity and self-denial — so that the king praises your dinners while the queen praises your fasts. I pass over your beautification of the church entrusted to you, so that an observer cannot tell whether the new buildings are more impressive or the restored old ones.
I pass over the many churches whose foundations you have laid and whose ornaments you have doubled. I pass over the way you have reduced only the number of heretics while increasing everything else in the state of the faith — trapping the savage minds of the Photinians [an Arian-like heresy] in the nets of your spiritual preaching, so that the barbarians who follow you, whenever they are refuted by your word, will not leave your side until you, that most fortunate fisher of souls, have drawn them from the deep waters of error.
But the thing that can be claimed as uniquely yours — as the lawyers say, by right of special privilege — and which even your modesty cannot deny: after the Gothic devastation, after the harvests were consumed by fire, you sent free grain at your own private expense to the desolate communities of Gaul. This would have been an enormous gift even if the grain had been sold rather than given away. We saw the roads choked with your supplies; we saw granary after granary — filled by you alone — along the banks of the Saone and Rhone.
Let the myths of the pagans give way — the story of Triptolemus [the mythical inventor of agriculture], whom Greece celebrated with temples, statues, and images, said to have wandered with two ships (which poets later reimagined as dragons) distributing the unknown art of sowing among the primitive peoples of Dodona. You, to say nothing of your inland generosity, filled not two ships but two rivers with your grain, destined to feed the cities of the Tyrrhenian coast.
If my freely choosing a pagan example offends a man praised for his holiness, then let us set aside the mystical interpretation and compare the literal diligence of the venerable patriarch Joseph, who easily provided a remedy for the seven years of famine that followed the seven years of plenty — because he foresaw it. Yet in my moral judgment, a man who meets a similar crisis without divine foreknowledge but still provides relief is no less admirable.
Therefore, though I cannot fully measure the gratitude owed to you by the people of Arles, Riez, Avignon, Orange, Alba, Valence, and Die — for it is hard to gauge the prayers of those who received food at no cost — I do offer the most abundant thanks on behalf of the city of Clermont. No bond of shared province, no proximity of city, no convenience of river, no offer of payment induced you to help us. And so through me they give enormous thanks — all those to whom the abundance of your bread brought the sufficiency they needed.
If I have adequately fulfilled the duties of my commission, let me pass from ambassador to herald. Know this: your fame runs through all of Aquitaine. You are loved, praised, longed for, and honored. In every heart and every prayer — amid these evil times — you are a good priest, a good father, and a good harvest to those for whom it was worthwhile to have endured their famine as a trial, if there was no other way for your generosity to become known. Be mindful of us, my lord bishop.
Modern English rendering for readability. See the 19th-century translation or original Latin/Greek for scholarly use.