Letter 14

UnknownTonantius|c. 469 AD|sidonius apollinaris
imperial politics

LETTER XIII

Sidonius to his dear Tonantius, greetings.

1. I confess that your judgment of my verses has long been so flattering and favorable that you think me worthy of comparison with the finest poets, and certainly to be set above a good many. I would believe you, were it not that, for all your great wisdom, you also love me greatly. Hence it is that your affection can deceive on my behalf but cannot be deceived.

2. Besides this, you ask me to send you some Asclepiadean verses forged on the Horatian anvil, to recite over your cups. I obey the commission, though, if ever, I am now most especially constrained and occupied with the prosaic mode of expression. You will find that the study of meter has grown cold in me for the most part; for it is not easy for a man to do anything well when he does it rarely.

[Here follows a poem of 28 lines in hendecasyllables, in which Sidonius plays with the difficulty of Asclepiadean meter, comparing himself unfavorably to the masters Leo and Lampridius who declaim before their students at Bordeaux.]

3. Rather, whenever you are gladdened by a more lavish banquet, devote yourself to pious narratives -- which I approve far more. Let frequent conversation bring these forth, let attentive hearing serve their retelling. Indeed, if such wholesome diversions move you too tepidly, being still a young man, at least borrow from the Platonist of Madaura the form of convivial questions, and to make yourself better informed, solve the ones proposed and propose the ones to be solved, and exercise yourself in these studies even in your leisure.

4. But since the subject of banquets has come up, and you so earnestly demand a poem from me -- composed, in fact, for another occasion and another person -- that you will not let me hesitate any longer in publishing it, kindly receive what I poured forth impromptu in the days of the Emperor Majorian. At the invitation of a certain friend, we had come to dinner, and upon a book by Petrus, the Master of Correspondence, being suddenly produced, I suddenly erupted into verse. My own companions too -- Domnulus, Severianus, and Lampridius -- were composing similar pieces while the master of the feast lingered over arranging the fish sauce. (I say this boastfully, or rather, they composed better ones.) These men, gathered from various cities, the emperor had drawn together into one city, and the host into one dinner.

5. The only delay was in distributing the types of meter by lot. For we agreed, out of collegial affection, that though the same subject matter was assigned to all, each man's epigram should be presented in a different meter, lest any of us who had spoken less finely than the rest should first be wounded by embarrassment and then gnawed by envy. For it is more quickly apparent, in any given reciter, whether he writes in the same meter as the others or also with the same genius.

[Here follows a long poem of over 120 lines in glyconic meter, celebrating the literary accomplishments of Petrus the Master of Correspondence, describing an elaborate banquet scene with tapestries, perfumes, garlands, musicians, and entertainments, and praising how Petrus surpasses all classical models. The poem closes by banishing the pagan Muses and declaring that God alone bestows such gifts.]

6. There -- while seeking something for you to sing, I have sung it myself. Such trifles I bring forth from the very bottom of my writing case, gnawed by mice, after some twenty years -- the sort of thing Ulysses, absent for an equal time, might have found upon returning home. I therefore ask you to pardon the present frivolities with good grace. But this I charge you, neither timidly nor impudently: that what I myself have pronounced concerning the complete book of my friend, you -- as if compelled by the necessity of the precedent -- should feel the same about mine. Farewell.

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

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