Letter 8011: How are your Nitiobroges and Vesunnici [the peoples of Agen and Perigueux] — between whom there is always a holy...
Sidonius Apollinaris→Lupus, close friend|c. 467 AD|Sidonius Apollinaris
education booksfriendshipgrief deathhumorillness
To Lupus [not the bishop, but a literary friend].
How are your Nitiobroges and Vesunnici [the peoples of Agen and Perigueux] — between whom there is always a holy contest over which has the greater claim on you? One people holds you by inheritance, the other by marriage too; one by birth, the other by wedding — but better yet, both by deliberate choice. And how blessed you are, by God's gift, that devoted peoples should compete over who gets to keep you longer!
You divide your presence carefully between them: now giving Drepanium to these, now Anthedius to those [apparently his representatives or proteges]. And if rhetorical instruction is asked of you, the one group has no need of Paulinus, the other no need of Alcimus [famous teachers]. So I am all the more surprised that you — whose daily reading exhausts a vast and varied library — should demand old songs from me. I obey, though the recollection of jests seems ill-timed in a season of grief.
I have only just learned of the murder of Lampridius [a poet and orator of Bordeaux, Sidonius's close friend]. His death would have afflicted me with the deepest anguish even if violence had not been the cause. He once used to call me "Phoebus" in our friendly banter, while I called him by the name of the Odrysian bard [Orpheus]. I mention this so the figurative names in the poem below will not puzzle you. I once sent this poem ahead to Bordeaux as a kind of advance notice when I was visiting. I think it can be offered more freely now than if I composed something mournful about his death — since a man who did not please by his eloquence would only displease by his subject matter.
[The poem is a playful piece in which "Phoebus" (Sidonius) sends his Muse ahead to Bordeaux to announce his arrival to "Orpheus" (Lampridius), asking him to arrange lodging — and if none is available, to ask the bishop for a roof, so that the poet does not end up in some smoky tavern.]
What a wretched necessity — to be born, to live miserably, to die harshly! See where the wheel of human fortune has turned. I loved the man, I confess, deeply — though he was entangled in certain faults, venial ones, and his virtues outweighed his flaws. He was often roused to anger by small causes, though the anger itself was slight. I always tried to persuade others that this was a matter of temperament rather than vice, and argued that the anger that ruled his heart — since it was tainted with no streak of cruelty — could at least be disguised as severity. Beyond this, though fragile in judgment, he was utterly steadfast in loyalty; utterly credulous because utterly trusting; utterly fearless because utterly harmless. No enemy could ever extract a curse from him, yet no friend could escape his sharp tongue. Difficult to approach but easy to look at — someone who had to be borne with, but who was bearable.
As for his literary work: his orations were sharp, polished, well-composed, and vigorous; his poems were delicate, varied in meter, clever, and artful. In controversial subjects he was strong and muscular; in satire, careful and biting; in tragedy, fierce and tearful; in comedy, urban and versatile; in his lighter wedding-songs, fresh in words and warm in feeling; in pastoral, alert, sparing, and melodious; in agricultural verse, rustic in the best sense without a trace of crudity. In lyric he followed Horace — now swift in iambics, now solemn in choriambics, now sinuous in Alcaics, now swelling in Sapphics.
But what was not merely blameworthy in the man but fatal was this: he once consulted astrologers about the end of his life — citizens of African cities, whose temperament, like their climate, burns hotter. They examined his horoscope and named the exact year, month, and day they said would prove critical — having seen, as they put it, the pattern of a violent nativity in his birth chart.
He was strangled at home by the hands of his slaves — murdered in his bed with his breathing choked off and his throat bound tight, dying, if not the death of Lentulus or Jugurtha or Sejanus, then at least that of Scipio Numantinus [all Romans said to have been murdered in their beds]. The one consolation in this catastrophe was that the crime and its perpetrator were discovered by daylight. The livid skin, the bulging eyes, the signs of fury as much as pain on his smothered face — all told the story at once. The assassins had turned the dead man face-down on the floor to simulate a natural hemorrhage, but the truth was immediately apparent. The ringleader was caught, the accomplices seized, and under interrogation the terror of torture extracted the truth from their unwilling hearts.
Would that he had not earned such an end by so recklessly consulting forbidden things! For whoever presumes to pry into forbidden secrets risks straying from the Catholic faith and making himself deserve the very adverse fate that was foretold. Vengeance followed the dead man — but such things serve the living more. When a murderer is punished, it is not a remedy but a consolation.
My love has carried me on longer than I meant. Share with me in turn anything worth knowing from your end — write, if only to lift a heart weighed down with sadness. For my confused breast was full of grief — justly so — when I committed these words to the page. For the present, I have no desire to write, speak, or think about anything else. Farewell.
EPISTULA XI
Sidonius Lupo suo salutem.
1. Quid agunt Nitiobroges, quid Vesunnici tui, quibus de te sibi altrinsecus vindicando nascitur semper sancta contentio? unus te patrimonio populus, alter etiam matrimonio tenet; cumque hic origine, iste coniugio, melius illud, quod uterque iudicio. te tamen munere dei inter ista felicem, de quo diutius occupando possidendoque operae pretium est votiva populorum studia confligere!
2. tu vero utrisque praesentiam tuam disposite vicissimque partitus nunc Drepanium illis, modo istis restituis Anthedium. et si a te instructio rhetorica poscatur, hi Paulinum, illi Alcimum non requirunt. unde te magis miror, quem cotidie tam multiplicis bibliothecae ventilata lassat egeries, aliquid a me veterum flagitare cantilenarum. pareo quidem, licet intempestiva videatur recordatio iocorum tempore dolendi.
3. Lampridius orator modo primum mihi occisus agnoscitur, cuius interitus amorem meum summis conficeret angoribus, etiamsi non eum rebus humanis vis impacta rapuisset. hic me quondam, ut inter amicos ioca, Phoebum vocabat ipse a nobis vatis Odrysii nomine acceptus. quod eo congruit ante narrari, ne vocabula figurata subditum carmen obscurent. huic quodam tempore Burdigalam invisens metatoriam paginam quasi cum Musa praevia misi. puto hanc liberius offerri, quam si aliquid super decedentis occasu lugubre componens, qui non placebam per eloquentiam, per materiam displicerem.
Dilectae nimis, et peculiari
Phoebus commonitorium Thaliae.
Paulum depositis, alumna, plectris
sparsam stringe comam virente vitta,
(5) et rugas tibi syrmatis profundi
succingant hederae expeditiores.
succos ferre cave nec, ut solebat,
laxo pes natet altus in coturno;
sed tales crepidas ligare cura,
(10) quales Harpalyce vel illa vinxit,
quae victos gladio procos cecidit.
perges sic melius volante saltu,
si vestigia fasceata nudi
per summum digiti regant citatis
(15) firmi ingressibus atque vinculorum
concurrentibus ansulis reflexa
ad crus per cameram catena surgat.
hoc pernix habitu meum memento
Orpheum visere, qui cotidiana
(20) saxa et robora corneasque fibras
mollit dulciloqua canorus arte;
Arpinas modo quem tonante lingua
ditat, nunc stilus aut Maronianus
aut quo tu Latium beas, Horati,
(25) Alcaeo melior lyristes ipso,
et nunc inflat epos tragoediarum,
nunc comoedia temperat iocosa,
nunc flammant satirae et tyrannicarum
declamatio controversiarum.
(30) dic: 'Phoebus venit atque post veredos
remis velivolum quatit Garumnam;
occurras iubet, ante sed parato
actutum hospitio.' Leontioque,
prisco Livia quem dat e senatu,
(35) dic: 'iam nunc aderit.' satis facetum et
solo nomine Rusticum videto.
sed si tecta negant ut occupata,
perge ad limina mox episcoporum,
sancti et Gallicini manu osculata
(40) tecti posce brevis vacationem,
ne, si destituor domo negata,
maerens ad madidas eam tabernas
et claudens geminas subinde nares
propter fumificas gemam culinas,
(45) qua serpylliferis olet catillis
bacas per geminas ruber botellus
ollarum aut nebulae vapore iuncto
fumant cum crepitantibus patellis,
hic cum festa dies ciere ravos
(50) cantus coeperit et voluptuosam
scurrarum querimoniam crepare,
tunc, tunc carmina digniora vobis
vinosi hospitis excitus Camena
plus illis ego barbarus susurrem.
4. O necessitas abiecta nascendi, vivendi misera, dura moriendi! ecce quo rerum volubilitatis humanae rota dicitur. amavi, fateor, satis hominem, licet quibusdam, tamen veniabilibus, erratis implicaretur atque virtutibus minora misceret. namque crebro levibus ex causis, sed leviter, excitabatur, quod nilominus ego studebam sententiae ceterorum naturam potius persuadere quam vitium; adstruebamque meliora, quatenus in pectore viri iracundia materialiter regnans, quia naevo crudelitatis fuerat infecta, praetextu saltim severitatis emacularetur. praeterea etsi consilio fragilis, fide firmissimus erat; incautissimus, quia credulus; securissimus, quia non nocens. nullus illi ita inimicus, qui posset eius extorquere maledictum; et tamen nullus sic amicus, qui posset effugere convicium. difficilis aditu, cum facilis inspectu, et portandus quidem, sed portabilis.
5. de reliquo, si orationes illius metiaris, acer rotundus, compositus excussus; si poemata, tener multimeter, argutus artifex erat. faciebat siquidem versus oppido exactos tam pedum mira quam figurarum varietate; hendecasyllabos lubricos et enodes; hexametros crepantes et cothurnatos; elegos vero nunc echoicos, nunc recurrentes, nunc per anadiplosin fine principiisque conexos.
6. hic, ut arreptum suaserat opus, ethicam dictionem pro personae temporis loci qualitate variabat, idque non verbis qualibuscumque, sed grandibus pulchris elucubratis. in materia controversiali fortis et lacertosus; in satirica sollicitus et mordax; in tragica saevus et flebilis; in comica urbanus multiformisque; in fescennina vernans verbis, aestuans votis; in bucolica vigilax parcus carminabundus; in georgica sic rusticans multum, quod nihil rusticus.
7. praeterea quod ad epigrammata spectat, non copia sed acumine placens, quae nec brevius disticho neque longius tetrasticho finiebantur, eademque cum non pauca piperata, mellea multa conspiceres, omnia tamen salsa cernebas. in lyricis autem Flaccum secutus nunc ferebatur in iambico citus, nunc in choriambico gravis, nunc in alcaico flexuosus, nunc in sapphico inflatus. quid plura? subtilis aptus instructus quaque mens stilum ferret eloquentissimus, prorsus ut eum iure censeres post Horatianos et Pindaricos cygnos gloriae pennis evolaturum.
8. aleae ut sphaerae non iuxta deditus; nam cum tesseris ad laborem occuparetur, pila tantum ad voluptatem. fatigabat libenter, quodque plus dulce, libentius fatigabatur. scribebat assidue, quamquam frequentius scripturiret. legebat etiam incessanter auctores cum reverentia antiquos, sine invidia recentes, et, quod inter homines difficillimum est, nulli difficulter ingenii laude cedebat.
9. illud sane non solum culpabile in viro fuit, sed peremptorium, quod mathematicos quondam de vitae fine consuluit, urbium cives Africanarum, quorum, ut est regio, sic animus ardentior; qui constellatione percontantis inspecta pariter annum mensem diemque dixerunt, quos, ut verbo matheseos utar, climactericos esset habiturus, utpote quibus themate oblato quasi sanguinariae geniturae schema patuisset, quia videlicet amici nascentis anno, quemcumque clementem planeticorum siderum globum in diastemata zodiaca prosper ortus erexerat, hunc in occasu cruentis ignibus inrubescentes seu super diametro Mercurius asyndetus seu super tetragono Saturnus retrogradus seu super centro Mars apocatastaticus exacerbassent.
10. sed de his, si qua vel quoquo modo sunt, quamquam sint maxume falsa ideoque fallentia, si quid plenius planiusque, rectius coram, licet et ipse arithmeticae studeas et, quae diligentia tua, Vertacum Thrasybulum Saturninum sollicitus evolvas, ut qui semper nil nisi arcanum celsumque meditere. interim ad praesens nil coniecturaliter gestum, nil per ambages, quandoquidem hunc nostrum temerarium futurorum sciscitatorem et diu frustra tergiversantem tempus et qualitas praedictae mortis innexuit.
11. nam domi pressus strangulatusque servorum manibus obstructo anhelitu gutture obstricto, ne dicam Lentuli Iugurthae atque Seiani, certe Numantini Scipionis exitu periit. haec in hac caede tristia minus, quod nefas ipsum cum auctore facti parricidalis diluculo inventum. nam quis ab hominum tam procul sensu, quis ita gemino obtutu eluminatus, qui exanimati cadavere inspecto non statim signa vitae colligeret extortae?
12. etenim protinus argumento fuere livida cutis, oculi protuberantes et in obruto vultu non minora irae vestigia quam doloris. inventa est quidem terra tabo madefacta deciduo, quia post facinus ipsi latrones ad pavimentum conversa defuncti ora pronaverant, tamquam sanguinis eum superaestuans fluxus exinanisset. sed protinus capto qui fuerat ipsius factionis fomes incentor antesignanus ceterisque complicibus oppressis seorsumque discussis criminis veritatem de pectoribus invitis tormentorum terror extraxit.
13. atque utinam hunc finem, dum inconsulte fidens vana consultat, non meruisset excipere! nam quisque praesumpserit interdicta secreta vetita rimari, vereor huius modi <hominem> a catholicae fidei regulis exorbitaturum et effici dignum, in statum cuius respondeantur adversa, dum requiruntur inlicita. secuta quidem est ultio extinctum, sed magis prosunt ista victuris. nam quotiens homicida punitur, non est remedium sed solacium vindicari.
14. longiuscule me progredi amor impulit, cuius angorem silentio exhalare non valui. tu interim, si quid istic cognitu dignum, citus indica, saltim ob hoc scribens, ut animum meum tristitudine gravem lectio levet. namque confuso pectori maeror, et quidem iure, plurimus erat, cum paginis ista committerem sola. neque enim satis mihi aliud hoc tempore manu sermone consilio scribere loqui volvere libet. vale.
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To Lupus [not the bishop, but a literary friend].
How are your Nitiobroges and Vesunnici [the peoples of Agen and Perigueux] — between whom there is always a holy contest over which has the greater claim on you? One people holds you by inheritance, the other by marriage too; one by birth, the other by wedding — but better yet, both by deliberate choice. And how blessed you are, by God's gift, that devoted peoples should compete over who gets to keep you longer!
You divide your presence carefully between them: now giving Drepanium to these, now Anthedius to those [apparently his representatives or proteges]. And if rhetorical instruction is asked of you, the one group has no need of Paulinus, the other no need of Alcimus [famous teachers]. So I am all the more surprised that you — whose daily reading exhausts a vast and varied library — should demand old songs from me. I obey, though the recollection of jests seems ill-timed in a season of grief.
I have only just learned of the murder of Lampridius [a poet and orator of Bordeaux, Sidonius's close friend]. His death would have afflicted me with the deepest anguish even if violence had not been the cause. He once used to call me "Phoebus" in our friendly banter, while I called him by the name of the Odrysian bard [Orpheus]. I mention this so the figurative names in the poem below will not puzzle you. I once sent this poem ahead to Bordeaux as a kind of advance notice when I was visiting. I think it can be offered more freely now than if I composed something mournful about his death — since a man who did not please by his eloquence would only displease by his subject matter.
[The poem is a playful piece in which "Phoebus" (Sidonius) sends his Muse ahead to Bordeaux to announce his arrival to "Orpheus" (Lampridius), asking him to arrange lodging — and if none is available, to ask the bishop for a roof, so that the poet does not end up in some smoky tavern.]
What a wretched necessity — to be born, to live miserably, to die harshly! See where the wheel of human fortune has turned. I loved the man, I confess, deeply — though he was entangled in certain faults, venial ones, and his virtues outweighed his flaws. He was often roused to anger by small causes, though the anger itself was slight. I always tried to persuade others that this was a matter of temperament rather than vice, and argued that the anger that ruled his heart — since it was tainted with no streak of cruelty — could at least be disguised as severity. Beyond this, though fragile in judgment, he was utterly steadfast in loyalty; utterly credulous because utterly trusting; utterly fearless because utterly harmless. No enemy could ever extract a curse from him, yet no friend could escape his sharp tongue. Difficult to approach but easy to look at — someone who had to be borne with, but who was bearable.
As for his literary work: his orations were sharp, polished, well-composed, and vigorous; his poems were delicate, varied in meter, clever, and artful. In controversial subjects he was strong and muscular; in satire, careful and biting; in tragedy, fierce and tearful; in comedy, urban and versatile; in his lighter wedding-songs, fresh in words and warm in feeling; in pastoral, alert, sparing, and melodious; in agricultural verse, rustic in the best sense without a trace of crudity. In lyric he followed Horace — now swift in iambics, now solemn in choriambics, now sinuous in Alcaics, now swelling in Sapphics.
But what was not merely blameworthy in the man but fatal was this: he once consulted astrologers about the end of his life — citizens of African cities, whose temperament, like their climate, burns hotter. They examined his horoscope and named the exact year, month, and day they said would prove critical — having seen, as they put it, the pattern of a violent nativity in his birth chart.
He was strangled at home by the hands of his slaves — murdered in his bed with his breathing choked off and his throat bound tight, dying, if not the death of Lentulus or Jugurtha or Sejanus, then at least that of Scipio Numantinus [all Romans said to have been murdered in their beds]. The one consolation in this catastrophe was that the crime and its perpetrator were discovered by daylight. The livid skin, the bulging eyes, the signs of fury as much as pain on his smothered face — all told the story at once. The assassins had turned the dead man face-down on the floor to simulate a natural hemorrhage, but the truth was immediately apparent. The ringleader was caught, the accomplices seized, and under interrogation the terror of torture extracted the truth from their unwilling hearts.
Would that he had not earned such an end by so recklessly consulting forbidden things! For whoever presumes to pry into forbidden secrets risks straying from the Catholic faith and making himself deserve the very adverse fate that was foretold. Vengeance followed the dead man — but such things serve the living more. When a murderer is punished, it is not a remedy but a consolation.
My love has carried me on longer than I meant. Share with me in turn anything worth knowing from your end — write, if only to lift a heart weighed down with sadness. For my confused breast was full of grief — justly so — when I committed these words to the page. For the present, I have no desire to write, speak, or think about anything else. Farewell.
Modern English rendering for readability. See the 19th-century translation or original Latin/Greek for scholarly use.