To the Lord Bishop Remigius [Remigius of Reims, the famous bishop who would later baptize Clovis, king of the Franks; at this time still a young bishop].
A certain man traveling from the Auvergne to Belgica — I know the person, though not his errand, and it does not matter — upon arriving at Reims, whether by payment, chance, or courtesy, managed to extract from your scribe or bookseller a most generous collection of your speeches. Returning to us in high spirits — naturally, given the haul of so many volumes — he pressed them upon us as a gift. Though we were certainly willing to buy, the fact that he was a fellow citizen made the gift appropriate and fair. My immediate concern, and that of all serious readers here, was to retain as much as possible in memory and to copy out the whole collection.
By universal judgment it was declared that very few writers today could produce anything comparable. For there is scarcely anyone whose preparation is equally matched by arrangement across causes, precision across letters, composition across syllables — and beyond this, aptness in examples, reliability in citations, precision in epithets, elegance in figures, power in arguments, weight in ideas, a river of words, and lightning in his conclusions.
Your prose style is strong and solid, bound by perfectly crafted conjunctions in unbreakable clauses, yet no less smooth and flowing and rounded in every way — gliding pleasantly along the reader's tongue without stumbling, so that it never stutters over rough joints or lurches through the vault of the palate. The whole thing is absolutely liquid and flowing, like a finger sliding over crystal or onyx — so smooth that nothing catches or snags.
What more can I say? No living person's oratory exists today that your skill could not surpass — and with effort. I therefore suspect, my lord bishop, that this overflowing and indescribable eloquence has made you — if I may say so — rather proud. But though you shine with the splendor of both a clear conscience and a supremely well-ordered style, you should not on that account avoid our judgment — we who praise good writing even if we cannot write what deserves praise.
So in the future, stop evading our judgment, which threatens nothing biting or reproachful. Otherwise, if you continue to deny our barren minds the nourishment of your eloquent conversation, we shall lie in wait for passing travelers and, with our connivance, the skilled hands of literary thieves will plunder your writing desk — and you will then begin to grieve at being robbed by stealth, when you are not moved by being asked as a courtesy. Be mindful of us, my lord bishop.
EPISTULA VII
Sidonius domino papae Remigio salutem.
1. Quidam ab Arvernis Belgicam petens (persona mihi cognita est, causa ignota; nec refert), postquam Remos advenerat, scribam tuum sive bybliopolam pretio fors fuat officione demeritum copiosissimo velis nolis declamationum tuarum schedio emunxit. qui redux nobis atque oppido gloriabundus, quippe perceptis tot voluminibus, quaecumque detulerat, quamquam mercari paratis, quod tamen civis (nec erat iniustum), pro munere ingessit. curae mihi e vestigio fuit hisque qui student, cum merito lecturiremus, plurima tenere, cuncta transcribere.
2. omnium assensu pronuntiatum pauca nunc posse similia dictari. etenim rarus aut nullus est, cui meditaturo par affatim assistat dispositio per causas, positio per litteras, compositio per syllabas, ad hoc opportunitas in exemplis fides in testimoniis, proprietas in epithetis urbanitas in figuris, virtus in argumentis pondus in sensibus, flumen in verbis fulmen in clausulis.
3. structura vero fortis et firma coniunctionumque perfacetarum nexa caesuris insolubilibus sed nec hinc minus lubrica et levis ac modis omnibus erotundata quaeque lectoris linguam inoffensam decenter expediat, ne salebrosas passa iuncturas per cameram palati volutata balbutiat; tota denique liquida prorsus et ductilis, veluti cum crystallinas crustas aut onychitinas non impacto digitus ungue perlabitur, quippe si nihil eum rimosis obicibus exceptum tenax fractura remoretur.
4. quid plura? non extat ad praesens vivi hominis oratio, quam peritia tua non sine labore transgredi queat ac supervadere. unde et prope suspicor, domine papa, propter eloquium exundans atque ineffabile (venia sit dicto) te superbire. sed licet bono fulgeas ut conscientiae sic dictionis ordinatissimae, nos tibi tamen minime sumus refugiendi, qui bene scripta laudamus, etsi laudanda non scribimus.
5. quocirca desine in posterum nostra declinare iudicia, quae nihil mordax nihil quoque minantur increpatorium. alioquin, si distuleris nostram sterilitatem facundis fecundare colloquiis, aucupabimus nundinas involantum et ultro scrinia tua coniventibus nobis ac subornantibus effractorum manus arguta populabitur inchoabisque tunc frustra moveri spoliatus furto, si nunc rogatus non moveris officio. memor nostri esse dignare, domine papa.
◆
To the Lord Bishop Remigius [Remigius of Reims, the famous bishop who would later baptize Clovis, king of the Franks; at this time still a young bishop].
A certain man traveling from the Auvergne to Belgica — I know the person, though not his errand, and it does not matter — upon arriving at Reims, whether by payment, chance, or courtesy, managed to extract from your scribe or bookseller a most generous collection of your speeches. Returning to us in high spirits — naturally, given the haul of so many volumes — he pressed them upon us as a gift. Though we were certainly willing to buy, the fact that he was a fellow citizen made the gift appropriate and fair. My immediate concern, and that of all serious readers here, was to retain as much as possible in memory and to copy out the whole collection.
By universal judgment it was declared that very few writers today could produce anything comparable. For there is scarcely anyone whose preparation is equally matched by arrangement across causes, precision across letters, composition across syllables — and beyond this, aptness in examples, reliability in citations, precision in epithets, elegance in figures, power in arguments, weight in ideas, a river of words, and lightning in his conclusions.
Your prose style is strong and solid, bound by perfectly crafted conjunctions in unbreakable clauses, yet no less smooth and flowing and rounded in every way — gliding pleasantly along the reader's tongue without stumbling, so that it never stutters over rough joints or lurches through the vault of the palate. The whole thing is absolutely liquid and flowing, like a finger sliding over crystal or onyx — so smooth that nothing catches or snags.
What more can I say? No living person's oratory exists today that your skill could not surpass — and with effort. I therefore suspect, my lord bishop, that this overflowing and indescribable eloquence has made you — if I may say so — rather proud. But though you shine with the splendor of both a clear conscience and a supremely well-ordered style, you should not on that account avoid our judgment — we who praise good writing even if we cannot write what deserves praise.
So in the future, stop evading our judgment, which threatens nothing biting or reproachful. Otherwise, if you continue to deny our barren minds the nourishment of your eloquent conversation, we shall lie in wait for passing travelers and, with our connivance, the skilled hands of literary thieves will plunder your writing desk — and you will then begin to grieve at being robbed by stealth, when you are not moved by being asked as a courtesy. Be mindful of us, my lord bishop.
Modern English rendering for readability. See the 19th-century translation or original Latin/Greek for scholarly use.