Letter 7

UnknownRemigius|c. 461 AD|sidonius apollinaris
education booksproperty economicstravel mobility

LETTER VII

Sidonius to his lord Bishop Remigius, greetings.

1. A certain man traveling from Clermont to Belgica -- his person is known to me, his business unknown, nor does it matter -- after he arrived at Reims, managed to extract from your secretary or bookseller, whether through payment or through persuasion, a most copious collection of your declamations, whether you liked it or not. Returning to us in great triumph, glorying in the volumes he had acquired, he pressed them upon us as a gift, although we were prepared to buy them -- not unjustly, since he was a fellow citizen. I immediately made it my business, along with those who share my literary interests, to read extensively and copy out the whole, as was right and fitting.

2. It was pronounced by universal agreement that little of comparable quality is being composed today. For rare indeed is the man, or rather there is none, whose meditation is attended by an equal measure of arrangement in his arguments, precision in his letters, composition in his syllables -- and beyond these, aptness in his examples, fidelity in his citations, propriety in his epithets, urbanity in his figures, force in his arguments, weight in his thoughts, a torrent in his words, and a thunderbolt in his cadences.

3. Moreover your prose structure is strong and firm, its perfectly crafted conjunctions bound by unbreakable caesuras, yet no less fluid and smooth for that, polished in every way, gliding the reader's tongue along without stumbling, so that it does not stammer as it rolls over the roof of the mouth, tripped by rough joints. The whole flows entirely liquid and ductile, as when a finger glides over crystalline or onyx surfaces without its nail catching -- since no crack with its clinging fracture snags and delays it.

4. What more can I say? There exists at present no living man's speech that your mastery could not surpass and overtop, though not without effort. From which I rather suspect, my lord bishop, that on account of your overflowing and inexpressible eloquence -- pardon the expression -- you have grown proud. But though you shine with the splendor of a conscience and a supremely well-ordered style alike, you should by no means shun us, who praise fine writing even if we cannot write what is praiseworthy.

5. Cease henceforth to avoid our judgment, which threatens nothing biting and nothing censorious. Otherwise, if you delay in enriching our barrenness with your fecund conversation, I shall seize my opportunity when the market is open and, with our connivance and instigation, the cunning hand of burglars shall plunder your writing desk -- and you will then begin in vain to stir, robbed by theft, if you now refuse to be moved by duty. Deign to remember me, my lord bishop.

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

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