Letter 8016: To Constantius [Sidonius's literary executor and the dedicatee of the first eight books of letters].

Sidonius ApollinarisConstantius|c. 467 AD|Sidonius Apollinaris
education booksfriendship

To Constantius [Sidonius's literary executor and the dedicatee of the first eight books of letters].

I had promised the distinguished Petronius that I would complete this little work in just a few letters — and in doing so I spared his ears while treating yours with honor. For I preferred that the labor of correction should fall to him while the honor of publication should be yours — so that the volume might reach your hands at another's risk and by my service. The promise is fulfilled; for if your expertise examines the title-marks of the gathered pages, I think a substantial collection already confronts you. We have reached the edges of the scroll-ends; it is time, as the satirist says [Juvenal], for our Orestes to be finished — even on its back side.

I have not summoned a fictitious Terpsichore in the old fashion, nor dragged my pen along the dewy banks and mossy rocks beside the spring of Aganippe [the Muses' spring]. Would that nothing soft, nothing fluid, nothing borrowed from the crossroads could be found here! For a mature reader like yourself takes pleasure not in a boneless, flabby, spineless style but in one that is seasoned, muscular, and almost masculine. But such things are reserved for better writers than I. It is enough for me if you quickly forgive my slowness.

Moreover, if the distinguished Petronius had asked for anything more, we would have fallen into long delays. For among my bookcases and reading-rooms, nothing worthy of publication remained — so you should understand that even if I have not yet learned to be silent, I have at least begun to grow quieter. This is for a double reason: if we please, a small sampling will stimulate the reader's appetite; if we are rejected, a large volume will not provoke disgust — especially in a style that possesses not urban elegance but rustic simplicity.

For where would I find that severe, antique manner of speaking — those Salian or Sibylline words, those archaic Sabine terms that most teachers pass over in silence and that only some fetial priest or flamen or some sleepy specialist in legal puzzles might decipher? I have composed my little works in a dry, thin style — mostly in common language, whose distinction is rare because its use is frequent, and whose approval is hard to win because its discovery is easy.

I do declare boldly: there is nothing sharp or eloquent here, but also nothing included that is not finished or without precedent. But why belabor the point? My writing, which is enough for me, pleases my friends. And in them I embrace both possibilities — whether they are not deceived in their judgment or are deceived by their affection. For the future, I pray to God that those who come after us will either be similarly deceived or will judge similarly. Farewell.

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

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