Book II: Letter IX
To His friend Donidius AD 461-7
To your question why, having got as far as Nimes, I still leave your hospitality
expectant, I reply by giving the reason for my delayed return. I will even dilate upon the
causes of my dilatoriness, for I know that what I enjoy is your enjoyment too. The fact
is, I have passed the most delightful time in the most beautiful country in the company of
Tonantius Ferreolus and Apollinaris, the most charming hosts in the world. Their estates
march together; their houses are not far apart; and the extent of intervening ground is
just too far for a walk and just too short to make the ride worthwhile. The hills above
the houses are under vines and olives; they might be Nysa and Aracynthus, famed in song.
The view from one villa is over a wide flat country, that from the other over woodland;
yet different though their situations are, the eye derives equal pleasure from both. But
enough of sites ; I have now to unfold the order of my entertainment. Sharp scouts were
posted to look out for our return ; and not only were the roads patrolled by men from each
estate, but even winding short-cuts and sheep-tracks were under observation, to make it
quite impossible for us to elude the friendly ambush. Into this of course we fell, no
unwilling prisoners; and our captors instantly made us swear to dismiss every idea of
continuing our journey until a whole week had elapsed. And so every morning began with a
flattering rivalry between the two hosts, as to which of their kitchens should first smoke
for the refreshment of their guest ; nor, though I am personally related to one, and
connected through my relatives with the other, could I manage by alternation to give them
quite equal measure since age and the dignity of prefectorian rank gave Ferreolus a prior
right of invitation over and above his other claims. From the first moment we were hurried
from one pleasure to another. Hardly had we entered the vestibule of either house when we
saw two opposed pairs of partners in the ball-game repeating each other's movements as
they turned in wheeling circles ; in another place one heard the rattle of dice boxes and
the shouts of the contending players in yet another, were books in abundance ready to your
hand; you might have imagined yourself among the shelves of some grammarian, or the tiers
of the Athenaeum, or a bookseller's towering cases. They were so arranged that the
devotional works were near the ladies' seats where the master sat were those ennobled by
the great style of Roman eloquence. The arrangement had this defect, that it separated
certain books by certain authors in manner as near to each other as in matter they are far
apart. Thus Augustine writes like Varro, and Horace like Prudentius; but you had to
consult them on different sides of the room. Turranius Rufinus' interpretation of
Adamantius Origenl was eagerly examined by the readers of theology among us; according to
our several points of view, we had different reasons to give for the censure of this
Father by certain of the clergy as too trenchant a controversialist and best avoided by
the prudent; but the translation is so literal and yet renders the spirit of the work so
well, that neither Apuleius' version of Plato's Phaedo, nor Cicero's of the Ctesiphon
of Demosthenes is more admirably adapted to the use and rule of our Latin tongue.
While we were engaged 6 in these discussions as fancy prompted each, appears an envoy from
the cook to warn us that the moment of bodily refreshment is at hand. And in fact the
fifth hour had just elapsed, proving that the man was punctual, had properly marked the
advance of the hours upon the water-clock . The dinner was short, but abundant, served in
the fashion affected in senatorial houses where inveterate usage prescribes numerous
courses on very few dishes, though to afford variety, roast alternated with stew. Amusing
and instructive anecdotes accompanied our potations; wit went with the one sort, and
learning with the other. To be brief, we were entertained with decorum, refinement, and
good cheer. After dinner, if we were at Vorocingus (the name of one estate) we walked over
to our quarters and our own belongings. If at Prusianum, as the other is called, [the
young] Tonantius and his brothers turned out of their beds for us because we could not be
always dragging our gear about: I they are surely the elect among the nobles of our own
age. The siesta over, we took a short ride to sharpen our jaded appetites for supper. Both
of our hosts had baths in their houses, but in neither did they happen to be available; so
I set my own servants to work in the rare sober interludes which the convivial bowl, too
often filled, allowed their sodden brains. I made them dig a pit at their best speed
either near a spring or by the river; into this a heap of red-hot stones was thrown, and
the glowing cavity then covered over with an arched roof of wattled hazel. This still left
interstices, and to exclude the light and keep in the steam given off when water was
thrown on the hot stones, we laid coverings of Cilician goats' hair over all. In these
vapour-baths we passed whole hours with lively talk and repartee; all the time the cloud
of hissing steam enveloping us induced the healthiest perspiration.
When we bad perspired enough, we were bathed in hot water; the treatment removed the
feeling of repletion, but left us languid ; we therefore finished off with a bracing
douche from fountain, well or river. For the river Gardon runs between the two properties
except in time of flood, when the stream is swollen and clouded with melted snow, it looks
red through its tawny gravels, and flows still and pellucid over its pebbly bed, io
teeming none the less with the most delicate fish. I could tell you of suppers fit for a
king ; it is not my sense of shame, but simply want of space which sets a limit to my
revelations. You would have a great story if I turned the page and continued on the other
side; but I am always ashamed to disfigure the back of a letter with an inky pen. Besides,
I am on the point of leaving here, and hope, by Christ's grace, that we shall meet very
shortly ; the story of our friends' banquets will be better told at my own table or
yours-provided only that a good week's interval first elapses to restore me the healthy
appetite I long for. There is nothing like thin living to give tone to a system disordered
by excess. Farewell.
BOOK I, Letter II
To [his brother-in-law] Agricola AD. 454 (?)
You have often begged a description of Theodoric the Gothic king, whose gentle breeding
fame commends to every nation; you want him in his quantity and quality, in his person,
and the manner of his existence. I gladly accede, as far as the limits of my page allow,
and highly approve so fine and ingenuous a curiosity.
Well, he is a man worth knowing, even by those who cannot enjoy his close acquaintance,
so happily have Providence and Nature joined to endow him with the perfect gifts of
fortune; his way of life is such that not even the envy which lies in wait for kings can
rob him of his proper praise. And first as to his person. He is well set up, in height
above the average man, but below the giant. His head is round, with curled hair retreating
somewhat from brow to crown. His nervous neck is free from disfiguring knots. The eyebrows
are bushy and arched; when the lids droop, the lashes reach almost half-way down the
cheeks. The upper ears are buried under overlying locks, after the fashion of his race.
The nose is finely aquiline; the lips are thin and not enlarged by undue distension of the
mouth. Every day the hair springing from his nostrils is cut back; that on the face
springs thick from the hollow of the temples, but the razor has not yet come upon his
cheek, and his barber is assiduous in eradicating the rich growth on the lower part of the
face.2 Chin, throat, and neck are full, but not fat, and all of fair complexion ; seen
close, their colour is fresh as that of youth; they often flush, but from modesty, and not
from anger. His shoulders are smooth, the upper- and forearms strong and hard ; hands
broad, breast prominent; waist receding. The spine dividing the broad expanse of back does
not project, and you can see the springing of the ribs ; the sides swell with salient
muscle, the well-girt flanks are full of vigour. His thighs are like hard horn ; the
knee-joints firm and masculine; the knees themselves the comeliest and least wrinkled in
the world. A full ankle supports the leg, and the foot is small to bear such mighty limbs.
Now for the routine of his public life. Before daybreak he goes with a very small suite
to attend the service of his priests. He prays with assiduity, but, if I may speak in
confidence, one may suspect more of habit than conviction in this piety. Administrative
duties of the kingdom take up the rest of the morning. Armed nobles stand about the royal
seat; the mass of guards in their garb of skins are admitted that they may be within call,
but kept at the threshold for quiet's sake; only a murmur of them comes in from their post
at the doors, between the curtain and the outer barrier.1 And now the foreign envoys are
introduced. The king hears them out, and says little ; if a thing needs more discussion he
puts it off, but accelerates matters ripe for dispatch. The second hour arrives ; he rises
from the throne to inspect his treasure-chamber or stable. If the chase is the order of
the day, he joins it, but never carries his bow at his side, considering this derogatory
to royal state. When a bird or beast is marked for him, or happens to cross his path, he
puts his hand behind his back and takes the bow from a page with the string all hanging
loose; for as he deems it a boy's trick to bear it in a quiver, so he holds it effeminate
to receive the weapon ready strung. When it is given him, he sometimes holds it in both
hands and bends the extremities towards each other ; at others he sets it, knot-end
downward, against his lifted heel, and runs his finger up the slack and wavering string.
After that, he takes his arrows, adjusts, and lets fly. He will ask you beforehand what
you would like him to transfix ; you choose, and be hits. If there is a miss through
either's error, your vision will mostly be at fault, and not the archer's skill. On
ordinary days, his table resembles that of a private person. The board does not groan
beneath a mass of dull and unpolished silver set on by panting servitors; the weight lies
rather in the conversation than in the plate ; there is either sensible talk or none. The
hangings and draperies used on these occasions are sometimes of purple silk, sometimes
only of linen; art, not costliness, commends the fare, as spotlessness rather than bulk
the silver. Toasts are few, and you will oftener see a thirsty guest impatient, than a
full one refusing cup or bowl. In short, you will find elegance of Greece, good cheer of
Gaul, Italian nimbleness, the state of public banquets with the attentive service of a
private table, and everywhere the discipline of a king's house. What need for me to
describe the pomp of his feast days ? No man is so unknown as not to know of them. But to
my theme again. The siesta after7 dinner is always slight, and sometimes intermitted. When
inclined for the board-game, he is quick to gather up the dice, examines them with care,
shakes the box with expert hand, throws rapidly, humorously apostrophizes them, and
patiently waits the issue. Silent at a good throw, he makes merry over a bad, annoyed by
neither fortune, and always the philosopher. He is too proud to ask or to refuse a
revenge; he disdains to avail himself of one if offered; and if it is opposed will quietly
go on playing. You effect recovery of your men without obstruction on his side; he
recovers his without collusion upon yours. You see the strategist when be moves the pieces
; his one thought is victory. Yet at play he puts off a little of his kingly rigour,
inciting all to good fellowship and the freedom of the game: I think he is afraid of being
feared. Vexation in the man whom he beats delights him; he will never believe that his
opponents have not let him win unless their annoyance proves him really victor. You would
be surprised how often the pleasure born of these little happenings may favour the march
of great affairs. Petitions that some wrecked influence had left derelict come
unexpectedly to port; I myself am gladly beaten by him when I have a favour to ask, since
the loss of my game may mean the gaining of my cause. About the ninth hour, the burden of
government begins again. Back come the importunates, back the ushers to remove them ; on
all sides buzz the voices of petitioners, a sound which lasts till evening, and does not
diminish till interrupted by the royal repast ; even then they only disperse to attend
their various patrons among the courtiers, and are astir till bedtime. Sometimes, though
this is rare, supper is enlivened by sallies of mimes, but no guest is ever exposed to the
wound of a biting tongue. Withal there is no noise of hydraulic organ, or choir with its
conductor intoning a set piece ; you will hear no players of lyre or flute, no master of
the music, no girls with cithara or tabor; the king cares for no strains but those which
no less charm the mind with virtue than the ear with melody. When he rises to withdraw,
the treasury watch begins its vigil; armed sentries stand on guard during the first hours
of slumber. But I am wandering from my subject. I never promised awhole chapter on the
kingdom, but a few words about the king. I must stay my pen ; you asked for nothing more
than one or two facts about the person and the tastes of Theodoric; and my own aim was to
write a letter, not a history. Farewell.
From, Sidonius, The Letters of Sidonius, trans. O.M. Dalton, (Oxford: Clarendon,
1915), two vols.
