Letter 22

UnknownLeo|c. 477 AD|sidonius apollinaris
diplomaticeducation books

LETTER XXII

Sidonius to his dear Leo, greetings.

1. The Magnificent Hesperius, jewel of friends and of letters, when he recently returned from the city of Toulouse, said that you had directed me to turn my attention from the now-completed books of letters to the pen of history. With the deepest reverence and the deepest affection, I embrace so great and weighty a recommendation. For you judge me fit for greater works when you think I ought to abandon lesser ones. But, to be candid, I find it easier to admire such a judgment than to undertake such a counsel.

2. The subject is worthy of your commanding it, but no less worthy of your writing it. For even in ancient times, when Gaius Cornelius urged a similar course upon Gaius Secundus, he himself afterward seized upon the very task he had imposed. And you would now better undertake the work following his example, since I rise before Pliny as a pupil before his master, while you by the ancient art of narrative rightly surpass Cornelius -- who, if he were to return to life in our age and behold how great you are esteemed in letters, would at last truly be Tacitus.

3. And so you rightly take up the weight of the theme you have assigned, you to whom, besides a singular eloquence, the great advantage of vast knowledge belongs. For daily, through the counsels of the most powerful king, burdened with the affairs and laws, the treaties and wars, the places, distances, and merits of the whole world, you come to know them all. Who then has more justly girded himself for this task than the man who has demonstrably learned the movements of nations, the variety of embassies, the deeds of commanders, and the pacts of kings -- in short, all the secrets of public affairs -- and who, placed at the summit of distinction, has no need either to suppress the truth or to fabricate a lie?

4. But my own condition is far different: for me, exile is a source of grief, not of information; old reading, not current knowledge. My religion is my profession, humility my aspiration, obscurity my mediocrity. My hope is placed not so much in the present as in the future. Sickness is my obstacle, and even now -- or rather, especially now -- indolence has become, on this very account, dear to my heart. Certainly no praise for literary endeavor now attends my age -- not even posthumous fame.

5. Especially because it is established that for men of the clerical order, little glory is to be gained from history: for if we describe our own affairs, we are called reckless; if others', presumptuous; if past events, unprofitable; if present ones, partial; if false ones, disgraceful; and if true ones, dangerous. For any such historical work inevitably takes on the color and smell of satire. And so: the writing of history seems utterly alien to our order, since its beginning is envy, its continuation labor, and its end, hatred.

6. But these outcomes occur when history is composed by clerical authors. We who are pierced by the venomous fangs of critics -- if we publish anything simply, we are called mad; if anything refined, presumptuous. But if you yourself, to whom it is given to trample upon the necks of detractors or leap over them in the running grounds of glory, should gladly take up the province of this subject, no one would write more sublimely, no one more authoritatively -- even if the topic were recent events. Since you are filled with abundance of words, and now with abundance of matter too, you have left no reason for the poisonous bite of criticism. And therefore, in the future, to consult you will be profitable, to hear you a pleasure, and to read you, authoritative. Farewell.

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

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