Buzz
Much has changed for humanity. Over the centuries, we've invented new systems of government, made technological strides, and explored new realms in art and science. Yet, whether in ancient times or modern democracies, certain aspects of our nature remain unchanged.
Take, for instance, our tendency to get frustrated and express our displeasure when faced with the folly of others. We often use sharp, colorful language, and whether our words are in Sumerian or English, they don't necessarily change the outcome.
Some traces of human anger have been preserved from ancient civilizations. It turns out that language and writing are powerful tools for venting our frustrations with others. Here are 10 historical letters that convey everything from mild irritation to full-blown rage.
10. Correspondence Between Pope Innocent IV and Guyuk Khan
These furious letters began circulating in March 1245 following an invasion of Russia and Eastern Europe by the Mongols. Innocent's messages to the khan were intended to persuade him to cease the invasion of Christian lands, or at the very least, to understand the conquerors' intentions and possibly convert them to Christianity in the process:
God has thus far allowed various nations to fall before you; for sometimes, He refrains from punishing the proud in this world at present, so that if they do not humble themselves willingly, He may not only delay their punishment in this life but also inflict a greater vengeance in the next.
When Guyuk Khan replied, he often stated, “I have not understood.” In essence, “What in the world are you talking about?”
He also added:
How do you presume to know whom God will forgive and to whom He will show mercy? How do you believe you have the right to voice such an opinion? By God's will, all empires, from the rise of the Sun to its setting, have been granted to us, and we possess them. How could anyone achieve anything without God's decree?
Since both leaders viewed themselves as God’s chosen representatives, neither was persuaded by the other's demands. Ultimately, both these enraged rulers were firmly convinced of their own righteousness.
9. Correspondence Between Frederick I and Saladin
Frederick I, also known as Frederick Barbarossa, learned that a new Muslim leader, Saladin, was advancing on Jerusalem. In response, Frederick sent a letter warning Saladin to halt his march:
We can hardly believe that you are unaware of what the ancient records and writings clearly show—that countless nations have been under our rule. This is well-known to the kings whose veins have been soaked in the blood of the Roman sword: and you, with God's will, shall come to understand the strength of our triumphant eagles, and witness the power of our multitudes from various nations.
Frederick then enumerated several armies under his command. By the time Saladin received the letter, he had already taken control of Jerusalem for three months. His response came swiftly:
We inform the sincere and mighty king, our noble and friendly ally, the king of Germany, that a certain man named Henry came to us claiming to be your envoy. He presented a letter which he said was from your hand. [ . . ] You list all the allies you have against us, naming the king of this land, the king of that land, the count here, the count there, archbishops, marquises, and knights. But as for us, we could not even begin to list the ones who serve us, who follow our commands, and would fight for us. This list would be too vast to be written down. [ . . .] The Bedouin are with us, and their strength alone could defeat all our adversaries. And the Turkmans, too, could obliterate them.
It might be a stretch to call Saladin's reply truly angry, but it was certainly full of playful mockery:
Hey, Frederick! This guy Henry came to us with this furious letter claiming to be from you, but we both know we’re best pals. Since you probably didn’t say all those harsh things, just feel free to disregard this long list of armies I’ve got that could totally crush you.
Following this, Frederick participated in the Third Crusade to reclaim Jerusalem from Saladin, though he tragically died during the campaign.
8. The Complaint Tablet To Ea-Nasir
Around 4,000 years ago, in 1750 BC, Nanni was looking to buy copper in the Babylonian city of Ur. Unfortunately, the copper ingot shipment he received from a merchant named Ea-nasir left him thoroughly dissatisfied.
In what might be the most universally relatable complaint in history, Nanni sent Ea-nasir a letter of grievance. What sets this apart is that instead of typing it out on a computer, he inscribed it in cuneiform on a clay tablet, which is now housed in The British Museum:
To Ea-nasir: Nanni sends the following message:
You promised me that when Gimil-Sin arrived, you would provide him with fine copper ingots. But when you left, you failed to keep your word. Instead, you presented my messenger, Sit-Sin, with inferior ingots and dismissed him with the words: 'Take them if you want, or leave them if you don’t.'
What do you think of me, treating someone like myself with such disdain? I sent trusted men to collect my money, which you were holding, but you sent them back empty-handed several times, and that too through hostile territory.
Has any other merchant dealing with Telmun ever treated me like this? You are the only one who has shown such disrespect! For a mere mina of silver that I owe you, you speak to me in this manner, even though I have already contributed 1,080 pounds of copper to the palace on your behalf, and umi-abum has done the same. Moreover, we both had a sealed tablet written and placed in the temple of Samas.
How have you repaid me for that copper? You’ve kept my money bag in enemy territory. It is now your responsibility to return it to me in full.
Let it be known that from now on, I will not accept any copper from you unless it is of the highest quality. I will personally inspect each ingot on my own property and reserve the right to reject them, as you have shown me nothing but contempt.
It appears that Ea-nasir's dubious business practices may have caught up with him. Excavations at his residence indicate that he was forced to scale back, likely due to the declining profits from his struggling copper trade.
7. An Ancient Sogdian Letter From a Woman in Distress
The Sogdians were an Iranian people who played a crucial role in the trade along the Silk Road between the fourth and ninth centuries. One Sogdian woman, stranded in the city of Dunhuang, wrote a poignant letter to her husband:
Look, I am living... poorly, in misery, utterly wretched, and I feel as though I am already dead. I send you letter after letter, yet I receive nothing in return, and my hope for you is fading. My misfortune is this: I have been stuck in Dunhuang for three years because of you. There were opportunities to leave—once, twice, even five times—but he refused to take me. [...] Surely, the gods must have been angry with me on the day I followed your orders! I would rather be the wife of a dog or a pig than remain in this wretched situation with you!
6. Esarhaddon's Rejection of a Letter
During the Neo-Babylonian Empire, clay cylinders were used as a form of correspondence. The message was inscribed directly onto the cylinder's surface, and then a clay sheath would be formed around it to act as an envelope, with the sender’s and recipient’s names written on it.
Similar to today’s letters, the sender’s identity could often be guessed even before opening the letter—if one chose to open it at all. One individual, Esarhaddon, received a letter from someone he considered to be no true Babylonian, despite the fact that the person resided in Babylon. Esarhaddon, in response, sent the letter back with an angry letter of his own, explaining his reasons:
I am returning to you, with its seals still intact, the entirely useless letter you sent me. You may ask, “Why has he sent it back?” When the citizens of Babylon, my loyal subjects, wrote to me, I opened their letters and read them. Now, tell me, would it be right for me to accept and read a letter from criminals who do not honor the god?
Regardless of whether the person actually resided in Babylon, Esarhaddon did not consider him a true citizen, deeming it utterly pointless to even read the letter that had been sent.
5. Hoshayahu’s Letter Defending His Literacy
In some instances, ancient messengers who delivered a letter would read it aloud for the recipient. In other cases, a scribe working for the recipient would do so. But there were also times when the recipient would take pride in reading the letter themselves, as was the case with Hoshayahu, an ancient Hebrew civil servant in the city of Lachish.
His superior implied that Hoshayahu was incapable of reading his own letters! The audacity. No one reads Hoshayahu’s letters except for him! He responded by writing to his superior to set the record straight:
And now, please explain to your servant the meaning of the letter which you sent to your servant yesterday evening. For your servant has been troubled ever since you sent that letter. In it, my lord asked: “Don’t you know how to read a letter?” As Yahweh lives, no one has ever attempted to read me a letter! Furthermore, whenever a letter arrives and I read it, I can repeat its contents down to the smallest detail.
4. Thonis’s Letter To His Father
In the third century AD, Thonis was simply trying to get his father, Arion, to finalize the arrangement with a teacher that Arion had already agreed upon. Arion had written to Thonis just a little, and despite repeated promises, he kept delaying a visit to ensure the teacher was secured.
Thonis starts his letter with the usual pleasantries, hoping his father is in good health, but quickly transitions into urging his father to arrive as soon as possible. He closes the letter politely but makes sure to add a final note reminding his father to look after the pets left behind at home.
To my esteemed father, Arion, Thonis extends greetings.
Above all, I pray daily to the ancestral gods of this land that you and our entire family remain in good health and prosperity. Now, let me be clear: this is the fifth letter I’ve written to you, and aside from one, you’ve not responded, nor have you come to see me. Even regarding your well-being, I have heard nothing.
Though you promised me you would come, you haven’t arrived to check on whether the teacher is indeed attending to me. Nearly every day, he asks about you, “Isn’t he coming yet?” and I respond with only one word: “Yes.” [ . . . ] Please, make the effort to come quickly so that he can teach me as he is eager to do.
If you had come with me, I would have been taught much earlier. And when you finally do come, remember what I’ve written to you many times: come swiftly before he departs for the upper territories. I send greetings to all our family by name and to my friends. Farewell, my esteemed father, and I pray for your continued well-being, as well as my brothers’ (protected from the evil eye).
Remember my pigeons.
3. A Widow’s Plea to Her Deceased Brother in Ancient Egypt
In ancient Egypt, from at least 2686–1069 BC, it was customary to write to deceased loved ones, asking for their help. The dead were believed to hold significant power and could intervene on behalf of the living, possibly even taking up cases in the underworld to halt any misfortune affecting their relatives.
One such letter was written by a mourning mother to her deceased brother, begging him to aid her daughter. This personal letter is among the earliest known written messages by a woman in Egypt:
A sister speaks to her brother. The only friend, Nefersefkhi. A great cry of sorrow! Who would listen to a cry of sorrow? It is given to you because of the wrongs done to my daughter—cruel wrongs, although I have done no harm to him, nor have I taken anything from him. He has given nothing to my daughter. Offerings of the voice are made to the spirit in exchange for their protection of the living. I call on you to address those who have inflicted pain upon me, for my voice is righteous against any deceased person, man or woman, who harms my daughter.
2. Cicero’s Letter to M. Fadius Gallus
Fadius Gallus was entrusted by Cicero, a Roman politician, with the task of making purchases on his behalf. Unbeknownst to Cicero, Gallus once bought a collection of statues for Cicero’s personal use.
Upon Cicero’s return home, he received a letter from the seller to whom Cicero owed money for the statues. However, Cicero had a strong aversion to these statues. Nonetheless, he assured Fadius Gallus that he would honor the agreement.
My dear Gallus, it would have been much easier had you bought the items I desired, and only for the price I had agreed upon. However, the purchases you’ve made, according to your letter, I will not only accept but also appreciate. I understand that you acted with enthusiasm and care in selecting these items, believing them worthy of me—being a man, as I’ve always thought, of impeccable taste. Still… there is not a single one of these purchases that I wish to keep.
Cicero then goes into vivid detail about why Fadius made a huge mistake in purchasing these outrageously expensive statues:
But you, unfamiliar with my tastes, have bought four or five statues at a price that I wouldn't pay for any statue in the world. You compare your Bacchae with Metellus’s Muses. Where is the resemblance? To start, I would never have deemed the Muses worth such a price, and I believe all the Muses would have agreed with my judgment. Still, the Muses would have suited a library and been in line with my studies. But Bacchae! What place would they have in my home?
What, once more, does a promoter of peace like me have to do with a statue of Mars? I’m just relieved there wasn’t a statue of Saturn as well. For then I would have thought these two statues had led me to debt! I would have preferred something depicting Mercury. Then perhaps I could have negotiated a better deal with Arrianus. You mentioned you bought the table stand for yourself; well, if you like it, keep it. But if you’ve changed your mind, I’ll take it. With the amount you’ve spent, I would have rather bought a place to stay in Tarracina to stop being a constant burden on my host.
1. Pliny The Younger’s Letter to Septitius Clarus
Pliny the Younger, a Roman senator and a prominent figure, had been let down. He had invited his close friend, Septitius Clarus, to dinner, but Septitius never showed up.
Pliny penned this letter to his friend, demanding to be reimbursed for the wasted dinner. While it may seem harsh at first glance, it’s actually more playful than angry. More than anything, Pliny just seemed disappointed that he and his friend didn’t get to enjoy the evening:
Ah! What a charming fellow you are! You make plans to join me for supper, and then you don't even show up. There will be justice; you shall pay me back every last cent for the expenses I incurred on your behalf—though it's no small amount, I assure you.
Oh, how cruel you’ve been, denying your friend, or I should almost say denying yourself; and in truth, I do say so. Think of how delightful the evening could have been, filled with laughter, lighthearted conversation, and literary delights! I admit, you could dine more splendidly elsewhere; but nowhere would you find more carefree joy, simplicity, and freedom. Try it sometime, and if you don’t excuse yourself to your other friends to join me, always putting me off to go to them instead, then I shall be pleased.
Farewell.
