To Audax.
Where, I would like to know, are they hiding now — those men who used to congratulate themselves on their heaped-up wealth and their piles of tarnished silver? Where, too, is the presumption of those who puffed themselves up against the promise of younger men on the sole ground of their seniority? Where are those relatives whose kinship is known by no surer sign than their feuding?
Naturally, once good actions found their opening and the scales of the emperor's judgment finally weighed character rather than cash, those men were left behind — men who most arrogantly believed they should be assessed solely by their census rating, men who, clinging to their vices as tightly as their riches, wanted the rise of others to be called vanity while refusing to let their own swelling fortune be called greed. Yet trained in the wrestling school of slander, they are worn away by the poisons of their own jealousy as if by oil.
But you — well done! You have been elevated with the title of prefect, and although you were already counted among the illustrious by birth, you have labored no less diligently to ensure that your descendants will reckon their glory from you. For there is nothing nobler, in the judgment of every good man, than someone who devotes the combined effort of his mind, body, and wealth to ensuring that he is placed above his own ancestors.
For the rest, I pray to God that your sons may follow you — or, what should be more to your liking, surpass you — and that whoever cannot bring himself to love a man who has advanced should be forever tormented by the inner fires of his own envy. Let anyone who has never found cause for pity toward you now find cause for jealousy — since it is just, under a just ruler, that a man should lie low who, small in spirit but great only in estate, lives a narrow life of soul amid a vast patrimony. Farewell.
EPISTULA VII
Sidonius Audaci suo salutem.
1. Ubinam se nunc, velim dicas, gentium abscondunt qui saepe sibi de molibus facultatum congregatarum deque congestis iam nigrescentis argenti struibus blandiebantur? ubi etiam illorum praerogativa, qui contra indolem iuniorum sola occasione praecedentis aetatis intumescebant? Ubi sunt illi, quorum affinitas nullo indicio maiore cognoscitur quam simultate?
2. nempe, cum primum bonis actibus locus et ad trutinam iudicii principalis appensa tandem non nummorum libra sed morum, remansere illi, qui superbissime opinabantur solo se censu esse censendos quique sic vitiis ut divitiis incubantes volunt vanitatis videri alienam surrexisse personam, cum nolint cupiditatis notari suam crevisse substantiam. in qua tamen detrahendi palaestra exercitati tamquam per oleum sic per infusa aemulationum venena macerantur.
3. tu vero inter haec macte, qui praefecturae titulis ampliatus, licet hactenus e prosapia inlustri computarere, peculiariter nihilo segnius elaborasti, ut a te gloriosius posteri tui numerarentur. nil enim est illo per sententiam boni cuiusque generosius, quisquis ingenii corporis opum iunctam in hoc constans operam exercet, ut maioribus suis anteponatur.
4. quod superest, deum posco, ut te filii consequantur aut, quod te plus decet velle, transcendant, et quicumque non sustinet diligere provectum, medullitus aestuantes a semet ipso livoris proprii semper exigat poenas, cumque nullas in te habuerit umquam misericordiae causas, habeat invidiae; siquidem iuste sub iusto principe iacet qui, per se minimus et tantum per sua maxumus, animo exiguus vivit et patrimonio plurimus. vale.
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To Audax.
Where, I would like to know, are they hiding now — those men who used to congratulate themselves on their heaped-up wealth and their piles of tarnished silver? Where, too, is the presumption of those who puffed themselves up against the promise of younger men on the sole ground of their seniority? Where are those relatives whose kinship is known by no surer sign than their feuding?
Naturally, once good actions found their opening and the scales of the emperor's judgment finally weighed character rather than cash, those men were left behind — men who most arrogantly believed they should be assessed solely by their census rating, men who, clinging to their vices as tightly as their riches, wanted the rise of others to be called vanity while refusing to let their own swelling fortune be called greed. Yet trained in the wrestling school of slander, they are worn away by the poisons of their own jealousy as if by oil.
But you — well done! You have been elevated with the title of prefect, and although you were already counted among the illustrious by birth, you have labored no less diligently to ensure that your descendants will reckon their glory from you. For there is nothing nobler, in the judgment of every good man, than someone who devotes the combined effort of his mind, body, and wealth to ensuring that he is placed above his own ancestors.
For the rest, I pray to God that your sons may follow you — or, what should be more to your liking, surpass you — and that whoever cannot bring himself to love a man who has advanced should be forever tormented by the inner fires of his own envy. Let anyone who has never found cause for pity toward you now find cause for jealousy — since it is just, under a just ruler, that a man should lie low who, small in spirit but great only in estate, lives a narrow life of soul amid a vast patrimony. Farewell.
Modern English rendering for readability. See the 19th-century translation or original Latin/Greek for scholarly use.