[1565] [§1] I for one do not know what I ought to say about the misfortunes that are happening before our very eyes, nor could words be commensurate with the events. Nay, even the power of weeping has failed some men, so terrified are they by the magnitude of the evils befalling them. But since God hath regard to those that lament, and since they who wield the scepter of the Romans ought, themselves also, to know this, do you write to whomsoever you may of those empowered to bring a statement before the council of the emperor.

Let someone announce to this body, in brief, that until the other day Pentapolis [i.e., Cyrenaica] was still a province valuable to an emperor. If it is outdistanced in power by other states, none the less it is more loyal than those greater in power. This is known to such as have entered into public life with a mind turned upon administration; [1568] and among these, as I hear and am persuaded, the great Anthemius [1] holds the first place. He has seen in how many moments of crisis we have given ready support to our emperor, and of these how many were moments of tyranny.

Until the other day the state of Pentapolis belonged to the Romans, who have now, to the nation's cost, passed her over in enumerating their provinces. Pentapolis has now quite clearly vanished; she has reached a state of extremity. Prolonging her agony to the seventh year,[2] as some animal tenacious of life, she was drawing in and gathering together what breath remained to her.

[§2] The propitious memory of Anysius has made her time of life a year younger; he it was who used the lances of all men and the ands of the Unnigardae at the critical moment. There came, in consequence, a certain postponement of disaster. For they [the barbarians] were not poured over the country in a compact mass. They changed their formation to that of marauding bands. They kept retreating and advancing. But after changing their minds when already three times drawn up for battle, the plains are captured by their horse, while our own troops are shut up within walled towns, scattered apart, some here, some there -the mistake this of Cerealis' time [3]- and are useless to each other because they are not concentrated.

The position of the enemy is therefore brilliant. They who last year were on the alert and always ready to retreat, are now besiegers, are now tearing down the walls of villages, are now investing cities with a large force at their disposal. What indeed has not turned out to their advantage! The Ausurians [4] have put on the breastplates of the Thracian cavalry, not of necessity, but to mock at the uniform. Besides these they employed the shields of the Marcomanni. The heavy-armed Roman force has degenerated into light infantry. They find their safety in the compassion of their enemies. I weep for these men, I do not reproach them with the calamity.

Note 1: Praetorian prefect of the east since 405.

Note 2: The Catastasis was written immediately after 411, so the implied period is 406-412.

Note 3: The military leader (dux) Cerealis appears to have been in charge of the region in c.405, when the Libyan war broke out.

Note 4: The Ausurians were a tribe. The Thracians and Marcomanni were Roman military units.

[§3]What could the Unnigardae have done against a force so vastly superior, and at moments when a small detachment of them encounters its serried masses? They are preserved on the one hand by the grace of God, by their strength and by their training; on the other hand by generalship; for what great harm could they have inflicted on an enemy, if dispatched against them by unwilling leaders? As often as, like young hounds, they got out of hand, these leaders would take them by the throat, and call them in, even before they had sated themselves with their charge and their wild-beast slaughter. And moreover, the Unnigardae were in need of a rear-guard and of an army drawn up in order of battle.

We had need, I think, of a phalanx,[1] as an efficient sword, the more vigorous part to thrust out with and the stouter to give the second blow. In this way the stroke becomes more disruptive. In any case, the number of these troops is a small one wherewith to finish the war, a war which could not be fought to finish in such a country as ours.

But unless someone can transport Unnigardae into the enemy's country, we shall need a force of four hundred to protect us against them. Nay, already had we need of such a force and commander before we were so completely routed and before the resources of the enemy had increased to such an extent.

[§4]For this final struggle even women joined in the campaign. I have seen, yes I have often seen, a woman carrying a sword and suckling infants at the same time. Who does not desire the war that is free from danger? I am full of shame at my fears for myself, for the times and for the Empire.

O for the spirit of the Romans of old! [1569] Winners of all their battles everywhere, they who united the continents by their victories, are now in danger of losing through a wretched nomadic tribe the Libyan cities, as well as the Greek, and Egyptian Alexandria also! The former loss is greater from the point of view of wealth, the latter is not less so from that of renown, if anyone knows the meaning of shame and sets any store on decency.

Alas for the audacity with which they have taken the land as if in a dragnet! No mountain is impassable for them nor is any fort secure. They have traversed and explored every country, and they have reduced young and old to slavery. I have long been listening to Greek historians:

The enemy left the women and children behind as a token of the devastation they had wreaked in the war.

Note 1: A common archaism in Synesius' time to describe heavy armed infantry.

[§5]Quite otherwise have matters turned out for Pentapolis. For what possession is fairer to the Ausurian than wife and child, that the former may bear him sons, and that the latter, when of age, may serve in the army? For the children become fond of those who filled the place of parents in their upbringing. Alas for the ill-fated colony that we are sending out! Our youth is being carried off captive to augment the armies of our foe; a people will come with enmity against their native land.

A young man will devastate the land which when still a stripling he cultivated with his father. Now he is on the march, now he is led away. Now the youth of Pentapolis is still in chains. Not one comes to the rescue or is able to do so. And yet they say that the general is full of zeal, but the Alexandrians [1] who direct the campaign there, with evil destiny for Pentapolis, do not allow him to act.

[§6] After all, who would blame the guiltless, for whom the burden of years and chronic attacks of disease have invoked our mercy? It would have been easy, no doubt, if we had been fortunate in our generals, to convict of impiety an army insolent and at war with God. What sort of sacred thing have they spared? Have they not in many a place in the plain of Barca destroyed newly-dug graves? Is it not by them that the churches of our district of Ampelus have everywhere been burnt and ruined? Did they not employ the sacred communion tables for the distribution of meat, as though they were profane? The holy vessels, solemnly used for the public libation-ritual, they take away now for the demons of the enemy country.[2]

Note 1: An army unit.

Note 2: Such as those venerated at Slonta.

[§7]Which of these things could one permit to reach pious ears? Anyone who thinks the citadels which they destroyed worth remembering, and the utensils, furniture, cattle, and sheep that have been hidden in the ravines, relics of the barbarian brigandage; such a man amidst so great disasters can scarcely escape the charge of frivolity. And yet they loaded five thousand dromedaries with their booty, and retired with three times their number by the addition of captives, and their host was so much the greater.

Pentapolis is death, extinguished; its end is come, it has been assassinated, it has perished. It has perished entirely out of existence, both for us and for its emperor. For a place from which he will get no return will be no possession for an emperor, and who shall collect from the desert?

[1572] As for me, I have no longer a native place to desert.[1] That I am not at sea and seeking an island is, in my case, only from lack of a ship, for I distrust Egypt. Even there a dromedary can cross with an Ausurian hoplite [2] on its back. I shall make an island of my home, a poor instead of a rich man, an alien less honored than a citizen of Cythera, for after many inquiries I have now ascertained that Cythera is opposite Pentapolis, and perhaps the south winds will carry me thither. With their citizens I will live as a stranger, a wanderer, and if I attempt to say anything about my great ancestry, they will not give it credence there.

[§8] Alas for Cyrene, whose public tablets trace the succession from Heracles down even to me! for I should not be accounted a simpleton in my grief amongst men who know of the degradation of my noble ancestry. Alas for the Dorian tombs wherein I shall find no place! Unhappy Ptolemais, of which I was the last priest to be appointed! The horror of it is ever with me. I can speak no longer, tears overpower my voice…

I am full of the thought of what it will mean to abandon the sacred objects. The crew ought already to have put to sea, but when anyone called me to the ship I shall beg leave to delay a little longer. I shall go first to the shrine of God, I shall make the circuit of the altar. I shall drench the most precious pavement with my tears; I shall not retreat from the spot before I have said farewell to that portal and that throne. How many times shall I call upon God and turn to Him, how often shall I press my hands upon the railings!

But necessity is a mighty thing and all-powerful. I long to give to my eyes a sleep uninterrupted by the sound of the trumpet. How much longer shall I stand upon the ramparts, how much longer shall I guard the intervals between the turrets? I am weary of picketing the night patrols, guarding others and being guarded myself in turn, I who used to hold many a vigil, waiting for the omens from the stars, I am now worn out watching for the onsets of the enemy. We sleep for a span measured by the water clock, and the alarm bell often breaks in upon the portion allotted me for slumber. And if I close my eyes for a moment, oh, what somber dreams!

Note 1: Synesius' native town, Cyrene, had already been sacked. In 412, he was bishop in Ptolemais.

Note 2: A common archaism in Synesius' time to describe heavy armed infantry.

[§9] And to what sort of visions do our cares by day hurry us! Cessation from troubles is the beginning of troubles. We are in flight, we are taken prisoners, [1573] we are wounded, we are bound in chains, we are sold into slavery. How often have I arisen in joy that I had escaped a master! How often have I arisen gasping for breath and dripping with sweat, abandoning in the same moment sleep and the race I was running with all my might, in flight from an enemy hoplite![1] For us alone are the word of Hesiod vain, to wit that

Hope remains within the jar.[2]

We are all without courage and bereft of hope. The 'unlivable' live of the proverb, my men, is no other than the one which we are leading. What is the delay? What are we coming to?

[§10] Pentapolis has incurred the hatred of God. We are surrendered to chastisement. There was the locust than which no evil is more complete, there was the conflagration which consumed the crops of three states even before the enemy came. What is the limit to our evils? If the islands afford a respite from these, I shall sail as soon as the sea abandons its evil passions.[3]

But I fear that disaster may overtake me first. For the day appointed for the attack is near at hand, with which 'tis said the imperial courier, forerunner of the enemy force, menaced the city. That moment most of all will warn the priests that they must speedily rally to the precincts of God's temple, if the danger reaches the very walls of the city. I shall remain in my place at the church. I shall place before me the vessels of holy water. I shall cling fast to the sacred pillars which hold up the inviolate communion table from the ground. There will I sit while I live, and lie when I am dead.

I am a minister of God, and perchance I must complete my service by offering up my life. God will not in any case overlook the altar, bloodless, though stained by the blood of a priest,

Supreme be thou in words, aye, and in deeds, O Thalelaeus, whom all learning well befits.[4]

Note 1: A common archaism in Synesius' time to describe heavy armed infantry.

Note 2: Hesiod, Works and Days, 95.

Note 3: If this refers to the beginning of the sailing season, the Catastasis describes an attack in the late winter of 411/412.

Note 4: Unknown quote.