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LETTERS OF PLINY
By Gaius Plinius Caecilius Secundus
Translated by William Melmoth
Revised by F. C. T.
Bosanquet
GAIUS PLINIUS CAECILIUS SECUNDUS, usually known as Pliny the Younger, was born at Como in 62 A. D. He was only eight years old when his father Caecilius died, and he was adopted by his uncle, the elder Pliny, author of the Natural History. He was carefully educated, studying rhetoric under Quintilian and other famous teachers, and he became the most eloquent pleader of his time. In this and in much else he imitated Cicero, who had by this time come to be the recognized master of Latin style. While still young he served as military tribune in Syria, but he does not seem to have taken zealously to a soldier's life. On his return he entered politics under the Emperor Domitian; and in the year 100 A. D. was appointed consul by Trajan and admitted to confidential intercourse with that emperor. Later while he was governor of Bithynia, he was in the habit of submitting every point of policy to his master, and the correspondence between Trajan and him, which forms the last part of the present selection, is of a high degree of interest, both on account of the subjects discussed and for the light thrown on the characters of the two men. He is supposed to have died about 113 A. D. Pliny's speeches are now lost, with the exception of one, a panegyric on Trajan delivered in thanksgiving for the consulate. This, though diffuse and somewhat too complimentary for modern taste, became a model for this kind of composition. The others were mostly of two classes, forensic and political, many of the latter being, like Cicero's speech against Verres, impeachments of provincial governors for cruelty and extortion toward their subjects. In these, as in his public activities in general, he appears as a man of public spirit and integrity; and in his relations with his native town he was a thoughtful and munificent benefactor.
Gaius Plinius Caecilius Secundus, commonly known as Pliny the Younger, was born in Como in 62 A.D. He was just eight years old when his father, Caecilius, passed away, and he was adopted by his uncle, the elder Pliny, who wrote the Natural History. He received a thorough education, studying rhetoric under Quintilian and other renowned teachers, and he became the most articulate lawyer of his time. In this and many other ways, he emulated Cicero, who had by then become the acknowledged master of Latin style. While still young, he served as a military tribune in Syria, but he didn't seem very enthusiastic about soldiering. After returning, he entered politics under Emperor Domitian and, in 100 A.D., was appointed consul by Trajan and had confidential communication with the emperor. Later, while he was governor of Bithynia, he routinely submitted every policy decision to Trajan, and their correspondence, which makes up the final part of this selection, is very interesting for both the topics discussed and the insights into their characters. He is believed to have died around 113 A.D. Most of Pliny's speeches have been lost, except for one, a praise speech for Trajan given in thanks for the consulship. This speech, although lengthy and perhaps overly flattering by today’s standards, became a template for this type of writing. The others were mainly of two types: legal and political, with many of the political speeches being similar to Cicero's speech against Verres, targeting provincial governors for cruelty and corruption towards their subjects. In these and throughout his public work, he appears as a man of civic spirit and integrity, and he was a generous and considerate benefactor to his hometown.
The letters, on which to-day his fame mainly rests, were largely written with a view to publication, and were arranged by Pliny himself. They thus lack the spontaneity of Cicero's impulsive utterances, but to most modern readers who are not special students of Roman history they are even more interesting. They deal with a great variety of subjects: the description of a Roman villa; the charms of country life; the reluctance of people to attend author's readings and to listen when they were present; a dinner party; legacy-hunting in ancient Rome; the acquisition of a piece of statuary; his love for his young wife; ghost stories; floating islands, a tame dolphin, and other marvels. But by far the best known are those describing the great eruption of Vesuvius in which his uncle perished, a martyr to scientific curiosity, and the letter to Trajan on his attempts to suppress Christianity in Bithynia, with Trajan's reply approving his policy. Taken altogether, these letters give an absorbingly vivid picture of the days of the early empire, and of the interests of a cultivated Roman gentleman of wealth. Occasionally, as in the last letters referred to, they deal with important historical events; but their chief value is in bringing before us, in somewhat the same manner as "The Spectator" pictures the England of the age of Anne, the life of a time which is not so unlike our own as its distance in years might indicate. And in this time by no means the least interesting figure is that of the letter-writer himself, with his vanity and self-importance, his sensibility and generous affection? his pedantry and his loyalty.
The letters, on which his fame largely rests today, were mostly written with the intention of being published and were arranged by Pliny himself. They lack the spontaneity of Cicero's impulsive remarks, but for most modern readers who are not specialists in Roman history, they are even more captivating. They cover a wide range of topics: the description of a Roman villa; the joys of country life; people's reluctance to attend author readings and listen when they were present; a dinner party; legacy-hunting in ancient Rome; acquiring a piece of statuary; his love for his young wife; ghost stories; floating islands, a tame dolphin, and other wonders. However, the most famous letters describe the catastrophic eruption of Vesuvius that claimed his uncle's life, a martyr to scientific curiosity, and the letter to Trajan about his efforts to suppress Christianity in Bithynia, along with Trajan's response supporting his approach. Overall, these letters provide a vividly engaging portrait of life during the early empire and the interests of a wealthy Roman gentleman. Occasionally, as in the last letters mentioned, they touch on significant historical events; but their primary value lies in illustrating, somewhat like "The Spectator" captures life in Anne's England, a time that isn't as different from our own as its distance in years might suggest. And in this era, one of the most interesting figures is the letter writer himself, with his vanity and self-importance, his sensitivity and kind-heartedness, his pedantry, and his loyalty.
CONTENTS
TABLE OF CONTENTS
LETTERS GAIUS PLINIUS CAECILIUS SECUNDUS
I — To SEPTITTUS
YOU have frequently pressed me to make a select collection of my Letters (if there really be any deserving of a special preference) and give them to the public. I have selected them accordingly; not, indeed, in their proper order of time, for I was not compiling a history; but just as each came to hand. And now I have only to wish that you may have no reason to repent of your advice, nor I of my compliance: in that case, I may probably enquire after the rest, which at present be neglected, and preserve those I shall hereafter write. Farewell.
You've often urged me to put together a special collection of my Letters (if there are any that truly deserve special attention) and share them with the public. I've selected them accordingly, not in chronological order, since I wasn't writing a history, but just as they came to me. Now, I can only hope that you won't regret your suggestion, nor will I regret going along with it. If that's the case, I might consider looking for the ones I've neglected and keep the ones I write in the future. Take care.
II — To ARRIANUS
I FORESEE your journey in my direction is likely to be delayed, and therefore send you the speech which I promised in my former; requesting you, as usual, to revise and correct it. I desire this the more earnestly as I never, I think, wrote with the same empressment in any of my former speeches; for I have endeavoured to imitate your old favourite Demosthenes and Calvus, who is lately become mine, at least in the rhetorical forms of the speech; for to catch their sublime spirit, is given, alone, to the "inspired few." My subject, indeed, seemed naturally to lend itself to this (may I venture to call it?) emulation; consisting, as it did, almost entirely in a vehement style of address, even to a degree sufficient to have awakened me (if only I am capable of being awakened) out of that indolence in which I have long reposed. I have not however altogether neglected the flowers of rhetoric of my favourite Marc-Tully, wherever I could with propriety step out of my direct road, to enjoy a more flowery path: for it was energy, not austerity, at which I aimed. I would not have you imagine by this that I am bespeaking your indulgence: on the contrary, to make your correcting pen more vigorous, I will confess that neither my friends nor myself are averse from the publication of this piece, if only you should join in the approval of what is perhaps my folly. The truth is, as I must publish something, I wish it might be this performance rather than any other, because it is already finished: (you hear the wish of laziness.) At all events, however, something I must publish, and for many reasons; chiefly because of the tracts which I have already sent in to the world, though they have long since lost all their recommendation from novelty, are still, I am told, in request; if, after all, the booksellers are not tickling my ears. And let them; since, by that innocent deceit, I am encouraged to pursue my studies. Farewell.
I SEE that your journey to me will likely be delayed, so I'm sending you the speech I promised in my last message. As always, I ask you to review and correct it. I really want this since I don't think I've ever written with the same enthusiasm in any of my previous speeches. I've tried to emulate your old favorite Demosthenes and Calvus, who has recently become mine too, at least in terms of the rhetorical style of the speech. Capturing their lofty spirit is a gift given only to the "truly inspired few." My topic naturally lent itself to this—can I dare to call it?—emulation, since it mainly consists of a passionate style of address, enough to pull me out of the laziness in which I’ve long rested. However, I haven't completely neglected the beautiful rhetoric of my favorite Cicero; whenever I could step away from my main point for a more embellished path, I took the chance because I aimed for energy, not strictness. I don't want you to think I'm asking for your leniency; on the contrary, to make your corrections more vigorous, I'll admit that neither my friends nor I oppose the publication of this piece if you also approve of what may be my folly. The truth is, since I have to publish something, I prefer this piece over any other because it's already done (you hear the wish of a lazy person). In any case, I must publish something for many reasons, mainly because of the works I've already shared with the world, which, although they've lost their novelty, are still, I’m told, in demand, unless the booksellers are just flattering me. And let them; I find that harmless trickery encourages me to continue my studies. Farewell.
III — To VOCONIUS ROMANUS
DID YOU ever meet with a more abject and mean-spirited creature than
Marcus Regulus since the death of Domitian, during whose reign his conduct
was no less infamous, though more concealed, than under Nero's? He began
to be afraid I was angry with him, and his apprehensions were perfectly
correct; I was angry. He had not only done his best to increase the peril
of the position in which Rusticus Arulenus[1] stood, but had exulted in
his death; insomuch that he actually recited and published a libel upon
his memory, in which he styles him "The Stoics' Ape": adding, "stigmated[2] with
the Vitellian scar."[3] You recognize Regulus' eloquent strain! [4]
[5]
[6]
He
fell with such fury upon the character of Herennius Senecio that Metius
Carus said to him, one day, "What business have you with my dead? Did I
ever interfere in the affair of Crassus' or Camerinus'?" Victims, you
know, to Regulus, in Nero's time. For these reasons he imagined I was
highly exasperated, and so at the recitation of his last piece, I got no
invitation. Besides, he had not forgotten, it seems, with what deadly
purpose he had once attacked me in the Court of the Hundred. Rusticus had
desired me to act as counsel for Arionilla, Titnon's wife: Regulus was
engaged against me. In one part of the case I was strongly insisting upon
a particular judgment given by Metius Modestus, an excellent man, at that
time in banishment by Domitian's order. Now then for Regulus. "Pray," says
he, "what is your opinion of Modestus?" You see what a risk I should have
run had I answered that I had a high opinion of him, how I should have
disgraced myself on the other hand if I had replied that I had a bad
opinion of him. But some guardian power, I am persuaded, must have stood
by me to assist me in this emergency. "I will tell you my opinion," I
said, "if that is a matter to be brought before the court." "I ask you,"
he repeated, "what is your opinion of Modestus?" I replied that it was
customary to examine witnesses to the character of an accused man, not to
the character of one on whom sentence had already been passed. He pressed
me a third time. "I do not now enquire," said he, "your opinion of
Modestus in general, I only ask your opinion of his loyalty." "Since you
will have my opinion then," I rejoined, "I think it illegal even to ask a
question concerning a person who stands convicted." He sat down at this,
completely silenced; and I received applause and congratulation on all
sides, that without injuring my reputation by an advantageous, perhaps,
though ungenerous answer, I had not entangled myself in the toils of so
insidious a catch-question. Thoroughly frightened upon this then, he first
seizes upon Caecilius Celer, next he goes and begs of Fabius Justus, that
they would use their joint interest to bring about a reconciliation
between us. And lest this should not be sufficient, he sets off to
Spurinna as well; to whom he came in the humblest way (for he is the most
abject creature alive, where he has anything to be afraid of) and says to
him, "Do, I entreat of you, call on Pliny to-morrow morning, certainly in
the morning, no later (for I cannot endure this anxiety of mind longer),
and endeavour by any means in your power to soften his resentment." I was
already up, the next day, when a message arrived from Spurinna, "I am
coming to call on you." I sent word back, "Nay, I will wait upon you;"
however, both of us setting out to pay this visit, we met under Livia's
portico. He acquainted me with the commission he had received from
Regulus, and interceded for him as became so worthy a man in behalf of one
so totally dissimilar, without greatly pressing the thing. "I will leave
it to you," was my reply, "to consider what answer to return Regulus; you
ought not to be deceived by me. I am waiting for Mauricus'[7] return"
(for he had not yet come back out of exile), "so that I cannot give you
any definite answer either way, as I mean to be guided entirely by his
decision, for he ought to be my leader here, and I simply to do as he
says." Well, a few days after this, Regulus met me as I was at the
praetor's; he kept close to me there and begged a word in private, when he
said he was afraid I deeply resented an expression he had once made use of
in his reply to Satrius and myself, before the Court of the Hundred, to
this effect, "Satrius Rufus, who does not endeavour to rival Cicero, and
who is content with the eloquence of our own day." I answered, now I
perceived indeed, upon his own confession, that he had meant it
ill-naturedly; otherwise it might have passed for a compliment. "For I am
free to own," I said, "that I do endeavour to rival Cicero, and am not
content with the eloquence of our own day. For I consider it the very
height of folly not to copy the best models of every kind. But, how
happens it that you, who have so good a recollection of what passed upon
this occasion, should have forgotten that other, when you asked me my
opinion of the loyalty of Modestus?" Pale as he always is, he turned
simply pallid at this, and stammered out, "I did not intend to hurt you
when I asked this question, but Modestus." Observe the vindictive cruelty
of the fellow, who made no concealment of his willingness to injure a
banished man. But the reason he alleged in justification of his conduct is
pleasant. Modestus, he explained, in a letter of his, which was read to
Domitian, had used the following expression, "Regulus, the biggest rascal
that walks upon two feet:" and what Modestus had written was the simple
truth, beyond all manner of controversy. Here, about, our conversation
came to an end, for I did not wish to proceed further, being desirous to
keep matters open until Mauricus returns. It is no easy matter, I am well
aware of that, to destroy Regulus; he is rich, and at the head of a party;
courted[8]
by many, feared by more: a passion that will sometimes prevail even beyond
friendship itself. But, after all, ties of this sort are not so strong but
they may be loosened; for a bad man's credit is as shifty as himself.
However (to repeat), I am waiting until Mauricus comes back. He is a man
of sound judgment and great sagacity formed upon long experience, and who,
from his observations of the past, well knows how to judge of the future.
I shall talk the matter over with him, and consider myself justified
either in pursuing or dropping this affair, as he shall advise. Meanwhile
I thought I owed this account to our mutual friendship, which gives you an
undoubted right to know about not only all my actions but all my plans as
well. Farewell.
DID YOU ever meet a more pitiful and petty person than Marcus Regulus since Domitian died? During Domitian's rule, his behavior was no less shameful, just better hidden, than it was under Nero. He began to worry that I was upset with him, and his fears were spot on; I was upset. He not only did his best to worsen the situation for Rusticus Arulenus[1] but also took pleasure in his death. He even went so far as to recite and publish a slanderous piece about him, calling him "The Stoics' Ape" and adding that he was "marked[2] with the Vitellian scar."[3] You can see how eloquent Regulus is! [4]
[5]
[6]
He attacked Herennius Senecio's reputation so fiercely that Metius Carus once said to him, "What business do you have with my dead? Have I ever interfered in Crassus' or Camerinus' matters?" You know, they were victims, as well, during Nero's time. Because of these things, he thought I was really angry, so when his latest piece was recited, I didn't get an invitation. Besides, it seems he hadn't forgotten how viciously he had previously attacked me in the Court of the Hundred. Rusticus had asked me to represent Arionilla, Titnon's wife, while Regulus was against me. At one point, I was strongly arguing for a particular ruling from Metius Modestus, a great man who was at that time in exile due to Domitian's decree. So, Regulus asked me, "What do you think of Modestus?" You can understand the risk I would run in answering that I thought highly of him, but I would disgrace myself if I said negatively. Luckily, I must have had some divine assistance in that moment. I replied, "I'll share my opinion if that's something for the court." Again, he asked, "What do you think of Modestus?" I said it was customary to examine witnesses regarding the character of someone accused, not about a person who had already been judged. He pressed me for a third time. "I’m not asking about Modestus in general, I just want to know your opinion about his loyalty." "Since you insist," I replied, "I think it's wrong to even question someone who's already been found guilty." At this, he sat down, completely silenced; I received applause and congratulations all around for navigating this tricky situation without damaging my reputation by giving a favorable yet unkind answer.
Terrified by this, he first approached Caecilius Celer, then asked Fabius Justus to use their combined efforts to reconcile us. To further this, he went to Spurinna as well; he approached him in the humblest manner (since he’s the most submissive person around when he has anything to fear) and said, "Please, I beg you, visit Pliny tomorrow morning—definitely in the morning, no later (I can't handle this anxiety anymore)—and do whatever you can to lighten his anger." The next day, I was already up when I got the message from Spurinna, "I’m coming to see you." I replied, "No, I’ll come to you," but as we both headed to this meeting, we ran into each other under Livia's portico. He told me about Regulus' request and interceded for him as a decent man should for someone so completely different, without pushing it too hard. "I'll leave it to you," I said, "to decide what to tell Regulus; you shouldn't be misled by me. I'm waiting for Mauricus'[7] return" (since he hadn’t come back from exile yet), "so I can't give you a definite answer either way because I plan to follow his guidance, as he should be my leader here, and I just need to do as he says." A few days later, Regulus encountered me while I was at the praetor's office; he stuck close to me there and asked for a private word, saying he was worried I was deeply hurt by something he’d said to Satrius and me in the Court of the Hundred, remarking that "Satrius Rufus doesn’t try to rival Cicero and is satisfied with the eloquence of our time." I responded that I could now see, from his own admission, that he intended it negatively; otherwise, it could have been seen as a compliment. "I freely admit," I said, "that I do aim to rival Cicero and am not content with the eloquence of our time, as it seems foolish not to emulate the best examples available. But how is it that you, who clearly recall this exchange, forgot the other instance when you asked for my opinion on Modestus' loyalty?" He turned paler than usual at this and stammered, "I didn't mean to offend you with that question, but Modestus." Notice the spiteful cruelty of this guy, who openly shows his willingness to harm someone who has been banished. The reason he gave to justify his actions is amusing. He explained that Modestus had written, in a letter read to Domitian, that "Regulus is the biggest scoundrel walking on two legs," and that what Modestus wrote was simply the truth, beyond any doubt. This ended our conversation, as I didn't want to push things further—I wanted to keep options open until Mauricus returns. I know it’s not easy to take down Regulus; he's wealthy and leads a faction, sought after by many and feared by more—a passion that sometimes outweighs even friendship. But, those kinds of ties aren't so strong that they can't be weakened because a bad person's reputation is as unreliable as they are. Still, I’m waiting for Mauricus to return. He is a man of good judgment and great wisdom from extensive experience, who, based on his observations of the past, knows how to assess the future. I’ll discuss this with him and consider myself justified in either pursuing or dropping this matter based on his advice. In the meantime, I felt I owed you this update because our friendship gives you a clear right to know about not just my actions but my plans as well. Farewell.
IV — To CORNELIUS TACITUS
You will laugh (and you are quite welcome) when I tell you that your old acquaintance is turned sportsman, and has taken three noble boars. "What!" you exclaim, "Pliny!"—Even he. However, I indulged at the same time my beloved inactivity; and, whilst I sat at my nets, you would have found me, not with boar spear or javelin, but pencil and tablet, by my side. I mused and wrote, being determined to return, if with all my hands empty, at least with my memorandums full. Believe me, this way of studying is not to be despised: it is wonderful how the mind is stirred and quickened into activity by brisk bodily exercise. There is something, too, in the solemnity of the venerable woods with which one is surrounded, together with that profound silence which is observed on these occasions, that forcibly disposes the mind to meditation. So for the future, let me advise you, whenever you hunt, to take your tablets along with you, as well as your basket and bottle, for be assured you will find Minerva no less fond of traversing the hills than Diana. Farewell.
You’ll laugh (and you’re totally welcome to) when I tell you that your old friend has become a sportsman and has taken down three impressive boars. "What!" you say, "Pliny!"—Yes, even him. However, I also enjoyed my cherished leisure; while I sat by my nets, you would’ve found me not with a spear or javelin, but with a pencil and notebook by my side. I reflected and wrote, determined to come back, if my hands were empty, at least with my notes filled. Trust me, this way of studying is worth it: it’s amazing how physical exercise can spark and energize the mind. There’s also something about the seriousness of the ancient woods surrounding you, along with the deep silence that occurs during these times, that really encourages meditation. So, for the future, let me suggest that whenever you go hunting, bring your notebook along with your basket and bottle, because you can be sure Minerva enjoys wandering the hills just as much as Diana does. Take care.
V — To POMPEIUS SATURNINUS
NOTHING could be more seasonable than the letter which I received from you, in which you so earnestly beg me to send you some of my literary efforts: the very thing I was intending to do. So you have only put spurs into a willing horse and at once saved yourself the excuse of refusing the trouble, and me the awkwardness of asking the favour. Without hesitation then I avail myself of your offer; as you must now take the consequence of it without reluctance. But you are not to expect anything new from a lazy fellow, for I am going to ask you to revise again the speech I made to my fellow-townsmen when I dedicated the public library to their use. You have already, I remember, obliged me with some annotations upon this piece, but only in a general way; and so I now beg of you not only to take a general view of the whole speech, but, as you usually do, to go over it in detail. When you have corrected it, I shall still be at liberty to publish or suppress it: and the delay in the meantime will be attended with one of these alternatives; for, while we are deliberating whether it is fit for publishing, a frequent revision will either make it so, or convince me that it is not. Though indeed my principal difficulty respecting the publication of this harangue arises not so much from the composition as out of the subject itself, which has something in it, I am afraid, that will look too like ostentation and self-conceit. For, be the style ever so plain and unassuming, yet, as the occasion necessarily led me to speak not only of the munificence of my ancestors, but of my own as well, my modesty will be seriously embarrassed. A dangerous and slippery situation this, even when one is led into it by plea of necessity! For, if mankind are not very favourable to panegyric, even when bestowed upon others, how much more difficult is it to reconcile them to it when it is a tribute which we pay to ourselves or to our ancestors? Virtue, by herself, is generally the object of envy, but particularly so when glory and distinction attend her; and the world is never so little disposed to detract from the rectitude of your conduct as when it passes unobserved and unapplauded. For these reasons, I frequently ask myself whether I composed this harangue, such as it is, merely from a personal consideration, or with a view to the public as well; and I am sensible that what may be exceedingly useful and proper in the prosecution of any affair may lose all its grace and fitness the moment the business is completed: for instance, in the case before us, what could be more to my purpose than to explain at large the motives of my intended bounty? For, first, it engaged my mind in good and ennobling thoughts; next, it enabled me, by frequent dwelling upon them, to receive a perfect impression of their loveliness, while it guarded at the same time against that repentance which is sure to follow on an impulsive act of generosity. There arose also a further advantage from this method, as it fixed in me a certain habitual contempt of money. For, while mankind seem to be universally governed by an innate passion to accumulate wealth, the cultivation of a more generous affection in my own breast taught me to emancipate myself from the slavery of so predominant a principle: and I thought that my honest intentions would be the more meritorious as they should appear to proceed, not from sudden impulse, but from the dictates of cool and deliberate reflection. I considered, besides, that I was not engaging myself to exhibit public games or gladiatorial combats, but to establish an annual fund for the support and education of young men of good families but scanty means. The pleasures of the senses are so far from wanting the oratorical arts to recommend them that we stand in need of all the powers of eloquence to moderate and restrain rather than stir up their influence. But the work of getting anybody to cheerfully undertake the monotony and drudgery of education must be effected not by pay merely, but by a skilfully worked-up appeal to the emotions as well. If physicians find it expedient to use the most insinuating address in recommending to their patients a wholesome though, perhaps, unpleasant regimen, how much more occasion had he to exert all the powers of persuasion who, out of regard to the public welfare, was endeavouring to reconcile it to a most useful though not equally popular benefaction? Particularly, as my aim was to recommend an institution, calculated solely for the benefit of those who were parents to men who, at present, had no children; and to persuade the greater number to wait patiently until they should be entitled to an honour of which a few only could immediately partake. But as at that time, when I attempted to explain and enforce the general design and benefit of my institution, I considered more the general good of my countrymen, than any reputation which might result to myself; so I am apprehensive lest, if I publish that piece, it may perhaps look as if I had a view rather to my own personal credit than the benefit of others, Besides, I am very sensible how much nobler it is to place the reward of virtue in the silent approbation of one's own breast than in the applause of the world. Glory ought to be the consequence, not the motive, of our actions; and although it happen not to attend the worthy deed, yet it is by no means the less fair for having missed the applause it deserved. But the world is apt to suspect that those who celebrate their own beneficent acts performed them for no other motive than to have the pleasure of extolling them. Thus, the splendour of an action which would have been deemed illustrious if related by another is totally extinguished when it becomes the subject of one's own applause. Such is the disposition of mankind, if they cannot blast the action, they will censure its display; and whether you do what does not deserve particular notice, or set forth yourself what does, either way you incur reproach. In my own case there is a peculiar circumstance that weighs much with me: this speech was delivered not before the people, but the Decurii;[9] not in the forum, but the senate; I am afraid therefore it will look inconsistent that I, who, when I delivered it, seemed to avoid popular applause, should now, by publishing this performance, appear to court it: that I, who was so scrupulous as not to admit even these persons to be present when I delivered this speech, who were interested in my benefaction, lest it, might be suspected I was actuated in this affair by any ambitious views, should now seem to solicit admiration, by forwardly displaying it to such as have no other concern in my munificence than the benefit of example. These are the scruples which have occasioned my delay in giving this piece to the public; but I submit them entirely to your judgment, which I shall ever esteem as a sufficient sanction of my conduct. Farewell.
NOTHING could be more timely than the letter I received from you, where you earnestly ask me to share some of my writing: exactly what I was planning to do. You’ve just motivated me to act and spared yourself the trouble of saying no, while I’m relieved from having to ask for the favor. So, without hesitation, I’m taking you up on your offer; now you must accept the consequences without reluctance. But don’t expect anything new from someone as lazy as I am, because I’m going to ask you to review the speech I gave to my fellow townspeople when I dedicated the public library. I remember you already helped me with some general comments on it, but now I’m asking you to take a thorough look at the entire speech and go over it in detail, just like you usually do. After you correct it, I’ll still have the freedom to decide whether to publish or keep it private; and this delay will lead to one of two outcomes: while we debate its suitability for publication, frequent revisions will either make it worthy of that or convince me it isn’t. My main concern about publishing this speech isn't the writing itself, but more about the subject matter, which I worry might come across as boastful and self-important. Because, no matter how simple and unpretentious the style is, since I had to speak about the generosity of my ancestors and my own contributions, my modesty will be put to the test. It’s a tricky and precarious situation, especially when necessity drives one into it! If people aren't particularly fond of praise, even when it’s directed at others, how much harder is it to accept when it’s given to ourselves or our ancestors? Virtue often invites envy, especially when it comes with glory and recognition; and the world rarely acknowledges the integrity of your actions if they go unnoticed and uncelebrated. For these reasons, I often question whether I wrote this speech out of personal interest or with the public in mind too; and I know that what might be very useful and appropriate during a project can lose its charm and relevance as soon as it’s complete. For example, in this case, there’s nothing more fitting than to explain in detail the reasons for my intended generosity. First, it engaged my mind with noble thoughts; secondly, by frequently reflecting on them, I got a clear impression of their beauty, while also protecting myself from the regret that typically follows impulsive generosity. Another advantage of this approach was that it instilled in me a habitual disdain for money. While people seem to be universally driven by an innate desire to accumulate wealth, nurturing a more generous spirit within me helped free me from the grip of that dominant principle: I believed that my genuine intentions would appear more commendable if they seemed to come not from a sudden impulse but from careful and deliberate thought. I also considered that I wasn’t committing myself to put on public games or gladiatorial contests, but rather to set up an annual fund for supporting and educating young men from good families with limited resources. The appeal of sensory pleasures doesn’t really require the art of oration to recommend it; in fact, we often need all the eloquence we can muster to moderate and restrain its influence rather than to amplify it. But getting someone to willingly engage in the dull routine of education can't be driven solely by pay; it requires a well-crafted appeal to their emotions too. Just like physicians find it important to use a smooth approach when recommending a healthy, albeit possibly unpleasant, regimen to their patients, how much more should I exert all my persuasive skills when trying to promote a beneficial yet not equally popular initiative for the public good? Particularly since I aimed to encourage support for an institution meant solely to benefit those who were parents to young men without children at that moment, persuading the majority to wait patiently until they were entitled to an honor that only a few could enjoy immediately. However, when I tried to clarify and promote the overall purpose and benefits of my institution, I prioritized the general welfare of my fellow citizens over any personal recognition I might gain; so I worry that if I publish that piece, it might seem like I’m more interested in my own reputation than in helping others. Besides, I’m very aware that it’s far nobler to find the reward of virtue in the quiet approval of one’s own conscience than in public praise. Glory should be a result, not a motivation, for our actions; and even if recognition doesn’t follow a worthy deed, it’s no less valid for lacking the applause it deserved. However, society tends to suspect that those who highlight their own philanthropic actions do so solely for the pleasure of boasting about them. Thus, the brilliance of an act that would have been seen as remarkable if recounted by someone else loses its shine when it becomes the subject of one’s own praise. This is the nature of people: if they can’t tarnish the deed, they will criticize its exhibition; whether you pursue what doesn't deserve special attention or publicly present what does, you invite criticism either way. In my specific case, there’s a particular concern that weighs heavily on me: this speech wasn't delivered to the general public, but to the Decurii; not in the forum, but in the senate. Therefore, I fear it may seem contradictory that I, who tried to avoid public applause when I delivered it, should now appear to seek it by publishing this work. It seems inconsistent for me, who was careful enough not to allow those present who were interested in my generosity, lest it be thought I was motivated by ambitious goals, to now seem to seek admiration by openly sharing it with those who have no interest in my generosity aside from the example it sets. These concerns have caused my hesitation in making this piece public; but I completely trust your judgment, which I will always regard as a sufficient validation of my actions. Farewell.
VI — To ATRIUS CLEMENS
IF ever polite literature flourished at Rome, it certainly flourishes now; and I could give you many eminent instances: I will content myself, however, with naming only Euphrates[10] the philosopher. I first became acquainted with this excellent person in my youth, when I served in the army in Syria. I had an opportunity of conversing with him familiarly, and took some pains to gain his affection: though that, indeed, was not very difficult, for he is easy of access, unreserved, and actuated by those social principles he professes to teach. I should think myself extremely happy if I had as fully answered the expectations he, at that time, conceived of me, as he exceeds everything I had imagined of him. But, perhaps, I admire his excellencies more now than I did then, because I know better how to appreciate them; not that I sufficiently appreciate them even now. For as none but those who are skilled in painting, statuary, or the plastic art, can form a right judgment of any performance in those respective modes of representation, so a man must, himself, have made great advances in philosophy before he is capable of forming a just opinion of a philosopher. However, as far as I am qualified to determine, Euphrates is possessed of so many shining talents that he cannot fail to attract and impress the most ordinarily educated observer. He reasons with much force, acuteness, and elegance; and frequently rises into all the sublime and luxuriant eloquence of Plato. His style is varied and flowing, and at the same time so wonderfully captivating that he forces the reluctant attention of the most unwilling hearer. For the rest, a fine stature, a comely aspect, long hair, and a large silver beard; circumstances which, though they may probably be thought trifling and accidental, contribute, however, to gain him much reverence. There is no affected negligence in his dress and appearance; his countenance is grave but not austere; and his approach commands respect without creating awe. Distinguished as he is by the perfect blamelessness of his life, he is no less so by the courtesy and engaging sweetness of his manner. He attacks vices, not persons, and, without severity, reclaims the wanderer from the paths of virtue. You follow his exhortations with rapt attention, hanging, as it were, upon his lips; and even after the heart is convinced, the ear still wishes to listen to the harmonious reasoner. His family consists of three children (two of which are sons), whom he educates with the utmost care. His father-in-law, Pompeius Julianus, as he greatly distinguished himself in every other part of his life, so particularly in this, that though he was himself of the highest rank in his province, yet, among many considerable matches, he preferred Euphrates for his son-in-law, as first in merit, though not in dignity. But why do I dwell any longer upon the virtues of a man whose conversation I am so unfortunate as not to have time sufficiently to enjoy? Is it to increase my regret and vexation that I cannot enjoy it? My time is wholly taken up in the execution of a very honourable, indeed, but equally troublesome, employment; in hearing cases, signing petitions, making up accounts, and writing a vast amount of the most illiterate literature. I sometimes complain to Euphrates (for I have leisure at least to complain) of these unpleasing occupations. He endeavours to console me, by affirming that, to be engaged in the public service, to hear and determine cases, to explain the laws, and administer justice, is a part, and the noblest part, too, of philosophy; as it is reducing to practice what her professors teach in speculation. But even his rhetoric will never be able to convince me that it is better to be at this sort of work than to spend whole days in attending his lectures and learning his precepts. I cannot therefore but strongly recommend it to you, who have the time for it, when next you come to town (and you will come, I daresay, so much the sooner for this), to take the benefit of his elegant and refined instructions. For I do not (as many do) envy others the happiness I cannot share with them myself: on the contrary, it is a very sensible pleasure to me when I find my friends in possession of an enjoyment from which I have the misfortune to be excluded. Farewell.
IF polite literature ever thrived in Rome, it certainly does now; and I could give you many great examples: I’ll just mention Euphrates—the philosopher. I first met this outstanding person in my youth while I was serving in the army in Syria. I had the chance to talk with him casually, and I made an effort to earn his affection; though, honestly, it wasn’t very hard since he is approachable, open, and driven by the social values he teaches. I would feel extremely happy if I had met the expectations he had of me back then, as he exceeds everything I imagined about him. However, perhaps I appreciate his qualities more now than I did then because I understand better how to recognize them; not that I fully appreciate them even now. Just as only those skilled in painting, sculpture, or the arts can truly judge any work in those fields, a person must have made significant progress in philosophy before they can fairly evaluate a philosopher. Still, as far as I can tell, Euphrates possesses so many remarkable talents that he’s bound to impress even the most basic observer. He reasons with great force, sharpness, and elegance, often reaching the sublime and rich eloquence of Plato. His style is varied and fluid, and it’s so captivating that it draws even the most reluctant listener in. Additionally, he has a fine stature, a handsome appearance, long hair, and a large silver beard; while these might seem trivial or accidental, they certainly earn him a lot of respect. There's no intentional sloppiness in his clothing or looks; his expression is serious but not harsh; and his presence commands respect without fear. Not only is he distinguished by the impeccable integrity of his life, but he is also known for his kindness and charming demeanor. He criticizes vices, not people, and without being harsh, he gently guides those astray back to the right path. You listen to his encouragement with rapt attention, almost hanging on his every word; and even once you’re convinced in your heart, your ears still want to hear from the harmonious speaker. He has three children (two of whom are sons), and he educates them with great care. His father-in-law, Pompeius Julianus, distinguished himself in all areas of life, particularly in this one, as even though he was of the highest rank in his province, he chose Euphrates as his son-in-law over many other notable matches, recognizing him as the best in merit, if not rank. But why do I keep going on about the virtues of a man whose conversations I’m so unfortunate not to have the time to enjoy? Is it to increase my regret and frustration for missing out? My time is completely consumed by a very honorable task, indeed, but equally burdensome—listening to cases, signing petitions, balancing accounts, and writing a ton of the most poorly written literature. I sometimes complain to Euphrates (since I at least have time to complain) about these unpleasant tasks. He tries to console me by insisting that being engaged in public service, hearing and deciding cases, explaining laws, and administering justice is part of, and the noblest part of, philosophy; it’s putting into practice what its scholars teach in theory. But even his eloquence can’t convince me that this work is better than spending entire days enjoying his lectures and learning his teachings. Therefore, I strongly recommend that you, who have the time, take advantage of his elegant and refined teachings the next time you come to town (and you’ll come, I suppose, even sooner because of this). I don’t (as many do) envy others the happiness I can’t share; quite the opposite, it brings me genuine pleasure to see my friends enjoying something from which I must sadly be excluded. Farewell.
VII — To FABIUS JUSTUS
IT is a long time since I have had a letter from you, "There is nothing to write about," you say: well then write and let me know just this, that "there is nothing to write about," or tell me in the good old style, If you are well that's right, I am quite well. This will do for me, for it implies everything. You think I am joking? Let me assure you I am in sober earnest. Do let me know how you are; for I cannot remain ignorant any longer without growing exceedingly anxious about you. Farewell.
It's been a while since I've heard from you. You say, "There's nothing to write about." So just write and let me know that "there's nothing to write about," or tell me in the classic way, "If you're well, that's good; I'm doing fine." That works for me because it means everything. Do you think I'm joking? I promise I’m serious. Please let me know how you are because I can't keep being in the dark any longer without getting really worried about you. Take care.
VIII — To CALESTRIUS TIRO
I HAVE suffered the heaviest loss; if that word be sufficiently strong to express the misfortune which has deprived me of so excellent a man. Corellius Rufus is dead; and dead, too, by his own act! A circumstance of great aggravation to my affliction: as that sort of death which we cannot impute either to the course of nature, or the hand of Providence, is, of all others, the most to be lamented. It affords some consolation in the loss of those friends whom disease snatches from us that they fall by the general destiny of mankind; but those who destroy themselves leave us under the inconsolable reflection, that they had it in their power to have lived longer. It is true, Corellius had many inducements to be fond of life; a blameless conscience, high reputation, and great dignity of character, besides a daughter, a wife, a grandson, and sisters; and, amidst these numerous pledges of happiness, faithful friends. Still, it must be owned he had the highest motive (which to a wise man will always have the force of destiny), urging him to this resolution. He had long been tortured by so tedious and painful a complaint that even these inducements to living on, considerable as they are, were over-balanced by the reasons on the other side. In his thirty-third year (as I have frequently heard him say) he was seized with the gout in his feet. This was hereditary; for diseases, as well as possessions, are sometimes handed down by a sort of inheritance. A life of sobriety and continence had enabled him to conquer and keep down the disease while he was still young, latterly as it grew upon him with advancing years, he had to manfully bear it, suffering meanwhile the most incredible and undeserved agonies; for the gout was now not only in his feet, but had spread itself over his whole body. I remember, in Domitian's reign, paying him a visit at his villa, near Rome. As soon as I entered his chamber, his servants went out: for it was his rule, never to allow them to be in the room when any intimate friend was with him; nay, even his own wife, though she could have kept any secret, used to go too. Casting his eyes round the room, "Why," he exclaimed, "do you suppose I endure life so long under these cruel agonies? It is with the hope that I may outlive, at least for one day, that villain." Had his bodily strength been equal to his resolution, he would have carried his desire into practical effect. God heard and answered his prayer; and when he felt that he should now die a free, un-enslaved, Roman, he broke through those other great, but now less forcible, attachments to the world. His malady increased; and, as it now grew too violent to admit of any relief from temperance, he resolutely determined to put an end to its uninterrupted attacks, by an effort of heroism. He had refused all sustenance during four days when his wife Hispulla sent our common friend Geminius to me, with the melancholy news, that Corellius was resolved to die; and that neither her own entreaties nor her daughter's could move him from his purpose; I was the only person left who could reconcile him to life. I ran to his house with the utmost precipitation. As I approached it, I met a second messenger from Hispulla, Julius Atticus, who informed me there was nothing to be hoped for now, even from me, as he seemed more hardened than ever in his purpose. He had said, indeed to his physician, who pressed him to take some nourishment, "'Tis resolved": an expression which, as it raised my admiration of the greatness of his soul, so it does my grief for the loss of him. I keep thinking what a friend, what a man, I am deprived of. That he had reached his sixty-seventh year, an age which even the strongest seldom exceed, I well know; that he is released from a life of continual pain; that he has left his dearest friends behind him, and (what was dearer to him than all these) the state in a prosperous condition: all this I know. Still I cannot forbear to lament him, as if he had been in the prime and vigour of his days; and I lament him (shall I own my weakness?) on my account. And—to confess to you as I did to Calvisius, in the first transport of my grief—I sadly fear, now that I am no longer under his eye, I shall not keep so strict a guard over my conduct. Speak comfort to me then, not that he was old, he was infirm; all this I know: but by supplying me with some reflections that are new and resistless, which I have never heard, never read, anywhere else. For all that I have heard, and all that I have read, occur to me of themselves; but all these are by far too weak to support me under so severe an affliction. Farewell.
I HAVE suffered the greatest loss; if that word is strong enough to express the misfortune that has taken away such an amazing man. Corellius Rufus has died; and he took his own life! This makes my grief even worse: that kind of death, which we can't blame on nature or fate, is the most lamentable of all. When friends we lose to illness leave us, we find some comfort in knowing they succumbed to the shared fate of humanity; but those who take their own lives leave us with the unbearable thought that they could have chosen to live longer. It's true that Corellius had many reasons to cherish life; he had a clear conscience, a great reputation, and a high character, plus a daughter, a wife, a grandson, and sisters; and amidst all these numerous sources of happiness, he also had loyal friends. Still, it's true that he had the strongest reason (which to a wise person will always feel like fate) that compelled him to this decision. He had long been tormented by a painful and lingering illness that eventually outweighed even his considerable reasons to continue living. At thirty-three (as I often heard him say), he was struck with gout in his feet. This was hereditary; just like fortunes, diseases can sometimes be passed down. His life of moderation had allowed him to manage the disease while he was still young, but as he aged, he had to bravely endure it, suffering incredible and undeserved pain; for the gout had now spread from his feet and affected his entire body. I remember visiting him during Domitian's reign at his villa near Rome. As soon as I entered his room, his servants stepped out: it was his rule to never have them in the room when an intimate friend was present; even his wife would leave, despite being capable of keeping a secret. Looking around the room, he exclaimed, "Why do you think I endure life so long under these cruel pains? I hope to outlive, at least for one more day, that scoundrel." If his physical strength matched his resolve, he would have made that wish a reality. God heard and granted his prayer; and when he felt he would die as a free, unbound Roman, he broke away from those other strong, but now lesser, attachments to the world. His illness worsened; and as it became too intense for any relief through moderation, he resolutely decided to stop its relentless assaults with an act of bravery. He had refused all food for four days when his wife Hispulla sent our mutual friend Geminius to me with the sad news that Corellius had determined to die; and that neither her pleas nor her daughter's could change his mind; I was the only one left who might be able to persuade him to live. I rushed to his house in a panic. As I got closer, I met another messenger from Hispulla, Julius Atticus, who told me there was no hope left, even from me, as he seemed more determined than ever in his decision. He had told his doctor, who was urging him to eat, "'Tis resolved": an expression that, while it increased my admiration for his strong spirit, also deepened my grief over losing him. I keep thinking about what a friend, what a man I have lost. He reached his sixty-seventh year, an age that even the strongest rarely surpass; I know he is freed from a life of constant pain; that he has left his closest friends behind, and (what mattered most to him) the state in good condition: all of this I understand. Still, I cannot help but mourn him, as if he were in the prime of life; and I mourn him (should I admit my weakness?) for my own sake. And—to confess to you as I did to Calvisius in my first surge of grief—I fear that now that I'm not under his watchful eye, I won't be as diligent about my behavior. So comfort me, not with the knowledge that he was old and frail; I know that: but by sharing with me some new, irrefutable thoughts that I haven't heard or read anywhere else. Because everything I've heard and read comes to mind on its own; but all of these are far too weak to support me through such deep sorrow. Farewell.
IX — To SOCIUS SENECIO
This year has produced a plentiful crop of poets: during the whole month of April scarcely a day has passed on which we have not been entertained with the recital of some poem. It is a pleasure to me to find that a taste for polite literature still exists, and that men of genius do come forward and make themselves known, notwithstanding the lazy attendance they got for their pains. The greater part of the audience sit in the lounging-places, gossip away their time there, and are perpetually sending to enquire whether the author has made his entrance yet, whether he has got through the preface, or whether he has almost finished the piece. Then at length they saunter in with an air of the greatest indifference, nor do they condescend to stay through the recital, but go out before it is over, some slyly and stealthily, others again with perfect freedom and unconcern. And yet our fathers can remember how Claudius Cæsar walking one day in the palace, and hearing a great shouting, enquired the cause: and being informed that Nonianus[11] was reciting a composition of his, went immediately to the place, and agreeably surprised the author with his presence. But now, were one to bespeak the attendance of the idlest man living, and remind him of the appointment ever so often, or ever so long beforehand; either he would not come at all, or if he did would grumble about having "lost a day!" for no other reason but because he had not lost it. So much the more do those authors deserve our encouragement and applause who have resolution to persevere in their studies, and to read out their compositions in spite of this apathy or arrogance on the part of their audience. Myself indeed, I scarcely ever miss being present upon any occasion; though, to tell the truth, the authors have generally been friends of mine, as indeed there are few men of literary tastes who are not. It is this which has kept me in town longer than I had intended. I am now, however, at liberty to go back into the country, and write something myself; which I do not intend reciting, lest I should seem rather to have lent than given my attendance to these recitations of my friends, for in these, as in all other good offices, the obligation ceases the moment you seem to expect a return. Farewell.
This year has seen a large number of poets: throughout the entire month of April, there hasn’t been a day when we haven’t been entertained by someone reading a poem. It makes me happy to see that there’s still an appreciation for good literature, and that talented people are willing to share their work, despite the lack of engagement they often receive. Most of the audience lounges around, wasting time chatting, and constantly asking if the author has arrived yet, if he’s finished the introduction, or if he’s almost done with the piece. Eventually, they wander in with the utmost indifference, and many don’t even bother to stay until the end; some sneak out quietly, while others leave without a care in the world. Yet our parents remember a time when Claudius Caesar, while strolling in the palace and hearing a loud noise, asked what was going on, and upon learning that Nonianus was reading his work, immediately went to the venue, pleasantly surprising the author. Nowadays, if you were to ask the most uninterested person alive to attend and reminded him repeatedly, he would either not show up at all or complain about having “lost a day!” for no other reason than that he didn’t. Those authors who have the determination to continue with their craft and share their work despite this apathy or arrogance from their audience truly deserve our support and applause. Personally, I rarely miss any events; though to be honest, the authors are usually friends of mine, as there are few people with literary interests who aren’t. This is what has kept me in the city longer than I planned. However, I am now free to return to the countryside and write something myself, which I don’t plan to read aloud, as I wouldn’t want to seem like I’m just lending my presence to the recitals of my friends, since with such gestures, as with all good deeds, the obligation ends the moment you appear to expect something in return. Farewell.
X — To JUNSUS MAURICUS
You desire me to look out a proper husband for your niece: it is with justice you enjoin me that office. You know the high esteem and affection I bore that great man her father, and with what noble instructions he nurtured my youth, and taught me to deserve those praises he was pleased to bestow upon me. You could not give me, then, a more important, or more agreeable, commission; nor could I be employed in an office of higher honour, than that of choosing a young man worthy of being father of the grandchildren of Rusticus Arulenus; a choice I should be long in determining, were I not acquainted with Minutius Aemilianus, who seems formed for our purpose. He loves me with all that warmth of affection which is usual between young men of equal years (as indeed I have the advance of him but by a very few), and reveres me at the same time, with all the deference due to age; and, in a word, he is no less desirous to model himself by my instructions than I was by those of yourself and your brother.
You want me to find a suitable husband for your niece, and it’s only fair that you ask me to take on that responsibility. You know the great respect and affection I had for her father, and how he raised me with valuable lessons that helped me earn the praise he gave me. You couldn't assign me a more significant or enjoyable task, nor could I hold a role of greater honor than choosing a young man worthy of being the father of Rusticus Arulenus's grandchildren. This decision would take me a while if I weren’t already familiar with Minutius Aemilianus, who appears to be just right for this. He loves me with the kind of warmth typical between young men of the same age (after all, I’m only a bit older than him), and he shows me great respect for my age. In short, he is just as eager to learn from my guidance as I was from yours and your brother's.
He is a native of Brixia, one of those provinces in Italy which still retain much of the old modesty, frugal simplicity, and even rusticity, of manner. He is the son of Minutius Macrinus, whose humble desires were satisfied with standing at the head of the equestrian order: for though he was nominated by Vespasian in the number of those whom that prince dignified with the praetorian office, yet, with an inflexible greatness of mind, he resolutely preferred an honourable repose, to the ambitious, shall I call them, or exalted, pursuits, in which we public men are engaged. His grandmother, on the mother's side, is Serrana Procula, of Patavium:[12] you are no stranger to the character of its citizens; yet Serrana is looked upon, even among these correct people, as an exemplary instance of strict virtue, Acilius, his uncle, is a man of almost exceptional gravity, wisdom, and integrity. In short, you will find nothing throughout his family unworthy of yours. Minutius himself has plenty of vivacity, as well as application, together with a most amiable and becoming modesty. He has already, with considerable credit, passed through the offices of quaestor, tribune, and praetor; so that you will be spared the trouble of soliciting for him those honourable employments. He has a fine, well-bred, countenance, with a ruddy, healthy complexion, while his whole person is elegant and comely and his mien graceful and senatorian: advantages, I think, by no means to be slighted, and which I consider as the proper tribute to virgin innocence. I think I may add that his father is very rich. When I contemplate the character of those who require a husband of my choosing, I know it is unnecessary to mention wealth; but when I reflect upon the prevailing manners of the age, and even the laws of Rome, which rank a man according to his possessions, it certainly claims some regard; and, indeed, in establishments of this nature, where children and many other circumstances are to be duly weighed, it is an article that well deserves to be taken into the account. You will be inclined, perhaps, to suspect that affection has had too great a share in the character I have been drawing, and that I have heightened it beyond the truth: but I will stake all my credit, you will find everything far beyond what I have represented. I love the young fellow indeed (as he justly deserves) with all the warmth of a most ardent affection; but for that very reason I would not ascribe more to his merit than I know it will bear. Farewell.
He is from Brixia, a province in Italy that still has a lot of the old-fashioned modesty, simple living, and even a bit of rustic charm. He is the son of Minutius Macrinus, whose humble ambitions were satisfied with being at the top of the equestrian order. Even though Vespasian appointed him among those honored with the praetorian office, he chose to embrace an honorable calm instead of the ambitious pursuits that many public figures chase. His grandmother on his mother’s side is Serrana Procula, from Patavium; you're familiar with the reputation of its citizens, yet Serrana is seen even among these respectable folks as a shining example of strict virtue. Acilius, his uncle, is a person of exceptional seriousness, wisdom, and integrity. Overall, there’s nothing in his family unworthy of yours. Minutius himself is lively, dedicated, and possesses a charming and fitting modesty. He has already held the positions of quaestor, tribune, and praetor with considerable honor, so you won’t need to worry about getting him those respectable jobs. He has a handsome, well-bred appearance, a healthy, ruddy complexion, and his whole demeanor is elegant and senator-like; qualities that shouldn’t be undervalued, as they represent the proper tribute to pure innocence. I should also mention that his father is quite wealthy. When I think about the qualities of a husband I should choose, I know it’s unnecessary to mention wealth; but reflecting on the dominant societal norms and the laws of Rome, which value a man based on his wealth, it certainly matters. In arrangements like this, where children and various other factors need to be thoughtfully considered, wealth is an important factor. You might suspect that my feelings have colored my description and that I've exaggerated; but I assure you, you will find everything to be even more impressive than I’ve described. I genuinely care for the young man (as he truly deserves) with all the warmth of deep affection; but for that reason, I wouldn't claim more for his merits than what I know to be true. Take care.
XI — To SEPTITIUS CLARUS
Ah! you are a pretty fellow! You make an engagement to come to supper and then never appear. Justice shall be exacted;—you shall reimburse me to the very last penny the expense I went to on your account; no small sum, let me tell you. I had prepared, you must know, a lettuce a-piece, three snails, two eggs, and a barley cake, with some sweet wine and snow, (the snow most certainly I shall charge to your account, as a rarity that will not keep.) Olives, beet-root, gourds, onions, and a thousand other dainties equally sumptuous. You should likewise have been entertained either with an interlude, the rehearsal of a poem, or a piece of music, whichever you preferred; or (such was my liberality) with all three. But the oysters, sows'-bellies, sea-urchins, and dancers from Cadiz of a certain—I know not who, were, it seems, more to your taste. You shall give satisfaction, how, shall at present be a secret.
Ah! You really are something! You make plans to come over for dinner and then just don’t show up. I’ll make sure you pay for this; you owe me every last cent for what I spent on you. It wasn’t a small amount, let me tell you. I had prepared a lettuce for each of us, three snails, two eggs, a barley cake, some sweet wine, and snow (and I will definitely charge you for the snow since it’s such a rare treat that doesn’t last). Olives, beetroot, gourds, onions, and countless other delicious dishes were also on the menu. You could have been entertained with a little play, a poetry reading, or some music, whichever you wanted; I was generous enough to offer all three. But, apparently, you preferred oysters, pig belly, sea urchins, and dancers from Cadiz—whoever they are. You will make this right; how exactly that will happen is a secret for now.
Oh! you have behaved cruelly, grudging your friend,—had almost said yourself;—and upon second thoughts I do say so;—in this way: for how agreeably should we have spent the evening, in laughing, trifling, and literary amusements! You may sup, I confess, at many places more splendidly; but nowhere with more unconstrained mirth, simplicity, and freedom: only make the experiment, and if you do not ever after excuse yourself to your other friends, to come to me, always put me off to go to them. Farewell.
Oh! You've been really cruel, holding back from your friend—almost from yourself; and on second thought, I will say that. Just think about how nicely we could have spent the evening, laughing, having fun, and enjoying some literary activities! Sure, you can have dinner at fancier places, but nowhere will you find more genuine laughter, simplicity, and freedom. Just give it a try, and if you don’t end up making excuses to visit me instead of your other friends, I’ll be surprised. Goodbye.
XII — To SUETONIUS TRANQUILLUS
You tell me in your letter that you are extremely alarmed by a dream; apprehending that it forebodes some ill success to you in the case you have undertaken to defend; and, therefore, desire that I would get it adjourned for a few days, or, at least, to the next. This will be no easy matter, but I will try:
You mention in your letter that you’re really worried about a dream; you fear it hints at some bad outcome for you in the case you’ve taken on to defend. Because of this, you’d like me to postpone it for a few days, or at least to the next session. This won't be easy, but I'll give it a shot.
"For dreams descend from Jove."
"For dreams come from Jove."
Meanwhile, it is very material for you to recollect whether your dreams generally represent things as they afterwards fall out, or quite the reverse. But if I may judge of yours by one that happened to myself, this dream that alarms you seems to portend that you will acquit yourself with great success. I had promised to stand counsel for Junius Pastor; when I fancied in my sleep that my mother-in-law came to me, and, throwing herself at my feet, earnestly entreated me not to plead. I was at that time a very young man; the case was to be argued in the four centumviral courts; my adversaries were some of the most important personages in Rome, and particular favourites of Cæsar;[13] any of which circumstances were sufficient, after such an inauspicious dream, to have discouraged me. Notwithstanding this, I engaged in the cause, reflecting that,
Meanwhile, it's important for you to remember whether your dreams usually reflect things as they actually happen or the opposite. But if I can judge yours by a dream I had, this dream that worries you seems to suggest that you will do very well. I had promised to represent Junius Pastor; then I dreamt that my mother-in-law came to me, fell at my feet, and urgently begged me not to argue the case. At that time, I was very young; the case was to be heard in the four centumviral courts, and my opponents were some of the most prominent people in Rome, who were particular favorites of Caesar; any of those factors would usually have discouraged me after such a bad dream. Despite this, I decided to take on the case, thinking that,
"Without a sign, his sword the brave man draws,
And asks no omen but his country's cause."[14]
"Without a sign, the brave man draws his sword, And seeks no omen but his country's cause."[14]
for I looked upon the promise I had given to be as sacred to me as my country, or, if that were possible, more so. The event happened as I wished; and it was that very case which first procured me the favourable attention of the public, and threw open to me the gates of Fame. Consider then whether your dream, like this one I have related, may not pre-signify success. But, after all, perhaps you will think it safer to pursue this cautious maxim: "Never do a thing concerning the rectitude of which you are in doubt;" if so, write me word. In the interval, I will consider of some excuse, and will so plead your cause that you may be able to plead it your self any day you like best. In this respect, you are in a better situation than I was: the court of the centumviri, where I was to plead, admits of no adjournment: whereas, in that where your case is to be heard, though no easy matter to procure one, still, however, it is possible. Farewell.
For I viewed the promise I made to be as important to me as my country, or even more so if that’s possible. The event unfolded just as I hoped; it was this very situation that first attracted positive attention from the public and opened the doors of Fame for me. So, think about whether your dream, like the one I just shared, might suggest future success. But, if anything, you may prefer to follow this cautious guideline: "Never do anything if you're unsure about its correctness;” if that's the case, let me know. In the meantime, I’ll come up with an excuse and advocate for your cause so you can present it yourself whenever you choose. In this regard, you have a better position than I did: the court of the centumviri, where I had to argue, doesn’t allow for postponements, while in your case, although it’s not easy to get one, it is possible. Take care.
XIII — To ROMANUS FIRMUS
As you are my towns-man, my school-fellow, and the earliest companion of my youth; as there was the strictest friendship between my mother and uncle and your father (a happiness which I also enjoyed as far as the great inequality of our ages would admit); can I fail (thus biassed as I am by so many and weighty considerations) to contribute all in my power to the advancement of your honours? The rank you bear in our province, as decurio, is a proof that you are possessed, at least, of an hundred thousand sesterces;[15] but that we may also have the satisfaction of seeing you a Roman Knight,[16] I present you with three hundred thousand, in order to make up the sum requisite to entitle you to that dignity. The long acquaintance we have had leaves me no room to apprehend you will ever be forgetful of this instance of my friendship. And I know your disposition too well to think it necessary to advise you to enjoy this honour with the modesty that becomes a person who receives it from me; for the advanced rank we possess through a friend's kindness is a sort of sacred trust, in which we have his judgment, as well as our own character, to maintain, and therefore to be guarded with the greater caution. Farewell.
Since you are my fellow townsman, my schoolmate, and the first friend of my youth; and given the close friendship between my mother and uncle and your father (a joy I also shared as much as our age difference allows); how could I, being influenced by so many significant factors, not do everything I can to support your success? Your position in our province as a decurio shows that you have at least a hundred thousand sesterces; but so that we can also take pride in seeing you become a Roman Knight, I’m giving you three hundred thousand to reach the amount needed for that honor. Our long-standing friendship assures me that you won't forget this gesture of my support. And I know you well enough to not need to remind you to accept this honor with the humility that it deserves; our higher status given by a friend's kindness is a kind of sacred trust, in which we must uphold both their opinion and our own character, so we need to approach it with greater care. Take care.
XIV — TO CORNELIUS TACITUS
I HAVE frequent debates with a certain acquaintance of mine, a man of skill and learning, who admires nothing so much in the eloquence of the bar as conciseness. I agree with him, that where the case will admit of this precision, it may with propriety be adopted; but insist that, to leave out what is material to be mentioned,—or only briefly and cursorily to touch upon those points which should be inculcated, impressed, and urged well home upon the minds of the audience, is a downright fraud upon one's client. In many cases, to deal with the subject at greater length adds strength and weight to our ideas, which frequently produce their impression upon the mind, as iron does upon solid bodies, rather by repeated strokes than a single blow. In answer to this, he usually has recourse to authorities, and produces Lysias[17] amongst the Grecians, together with Cato and the two Gracchi, among our own countrymen, many of whose speeches certainly are brief and curtailed. In return, I name Demosthenes, Aeschines, Hyperides,[18] and many others, in opposition to Lysias; while I confront Cato and the Gracchi with Cæsar, Pollio,[19] Caelius,[20] but, above all, Cicero, whose longest speech is generally considered his best. Why, no doubt about it, in good compositions, as in everything else that is valuable, the more there is of them, the better. You may observe in statues, basso-relievos, pictures, and the human form, and even in animals and trees, that nothing is more graceful than magnitude, if accompanied with proportion. The same holds true in pleading; and even in books a large volume carries a certain beauty and authority in its very size. My antagonist, who is extremely dexterous at evading an argument, eludes all this, and much more, which I usually urge to the same purpose, by insisting that those very individuals, upon whose works I found my opinion, made considerable additions to their speeches when they published them. This I deny; and appeal to the harangues of numberless orators, particularly to those of Cicero, for Murena and Varenus, in which a short, bare notification of certain charges is expressed under mere heads. Whence it appears that many things which he enlarged upon at the time he delivered those speeches were retrenched when he gave them to the public. The same excellent orator informs us that, agreeably to the ancient custom, which allowed only of one counsel on a side, Cluentius had no other advocate than himself; and he tells us further that he employed four whole days in defence of Cornelius; by which it plainly appears that those speeches which, when delivered at their full length, had necessarily taken up so much time at the bar were considerably cut down and pruned when he afterwards compressed them into a single volume, though, I must confess, indeed, a large one. But good pleading, it is objected, is one thing, just composition another. This objection, I am aware, has had some favourers; nevertheless, I am persuaded (though I may, perhaps, be mistaken) that, as it is possible you may have a good pleading which is not a good speech, so a good speech cannot be a bad pleading; for the speech on paper is the model and, as it were, the archetype of the speech that was delivered. It is for this reason we find, in many of the best speeches extant, numberless extemporaneous turns of expression; and even in those which we are sure were never spoken; as, for instance, in the following passage from the speech against Verres: —"A certain mechanic—what's his name? Oh, thank you for helping me to it: yes, I mean Polyclitus." It follows, then, that the nearer approach a speaker makes to the rules of just composition, the more perfect will he be in his art; always supposing, however, that he has his due share of time allowed him; for, if he be limited of that article, no blame can justly be fixed upon the advocate, though much certainly upon the judge. The sense of the laws, I am sure, is on my side, which are by no means sparing of the orator's time; it is not conciseness, but fulness, a complete representation of every material circumstance, which they recommend. Now conciseness cannot effect this, unless in the most insignificant cases. Let me add what experience, that unerring guide, has taught me: it has frequently been my province to act both as an advocate and a judge; and I have often also attended as an assessor.[21] Upon those occasions, I have ever found the judgments of mankind are to be influenced by different modes of application, and that the slightest circumstances frequently produce the most important consequences. The dispositions and understandings of men vary to such an extent that they seldom agree in their opinions concerning any one point in debate before them; or, if they do, it is generally from different motives. Besides, as every man is naturally partial to his own discoveries, when he hears an argument urged which had previously occurred to himself, he will be sure to embrace it as extremely convincing. The orator, therefore, should so adapt himself to his audience as to throw out something which every one of them, in turn, may receive and approve as agreeable to his own particular views. I recollect, once when Regulus and I were engaged on the same side, his remarking to me, "You seem to think it necessary to go into every single circumstance: whereas I always take aim at once at my adversary's throat, and there I press him closely." ('Tis true, he keeps a tight hold of whatever part he has once fixed upon; but the misfortune is, he is extremely apt to fix upon the wrong place.) I replied, it might possibly happen that what he called the throat was, in reality, the knee or the ankle. As for myself, said I, who do not pretend to direct my aim with so much precision, I test every part, I probe every opening; in short, to use a vulgar proverb, I leave no stone unturned. And as in agriculture, it is not my vineyards or my woods only, but my fields as well, that I look after and cultivate, and (to carry on the metaphor) as I do not content myself with sowing those fields simply with corn or white wheat, but sprinkle in barley, pulse, and the other kinds of grain; so, in my pleadings at the bar, I scatter broadcast various arguments like so many kinds of seed, in order to reap whatever may happen to come up. For the disposition of your judges is as hard to fathom as uncertain, and as little to be relied on as that of soils and seasons. The comic writer Eupolis,[22] I remember, mentions it in praise of that excellent orator Pericles, that
I often have discussions with a certain acquaintance of mine, a skilled and knowledgeable man, who values nothing in legal speech as much as being concise. I agree with him that when the situation allows for precision, it can definitely be used appropriately; but I insist that leaving out essential information—or only briefly touching on key points that should be emphasized, impressed, and thoroughly conveyed to the audience—is essentially a betrayal of one's client. In many cases, discussing the subject in more depth actually strengthens and solidifies our ideas, which often make a greater impact on the mind, much like iron shapes solid objects more effectively with repeated hits than with a single strike. In response to this, he often cites authorities and brings up Lysias among the Greeks, as well as Cato and the two Gracchi among our own people, many of whose speeches are indeed brief and condensed. In return, I mention Demosthenes, Aeschines, Hyperides, and many others to counter Lysias; while I match Cato and the Gracchi against Cæsar, Pollio, Caelius, but above all Cicero, whose longest speech is generally seen as his best. It’s obvious that in good compositions, as in everything else of value, the more you have, the better. You can notice that in statues, bas-reliefs, paintings, and the human figure, as well as in animals and trees, nothing looks more graceful than size when it's proportionate. The same applies to legal arguments; and even in books, a large volume carries a certain beauty and authority simply because of its size. My opponent, who is very skilled at dodging arguments, ignores all this and much more that I typically use to support my point, by claiming that the very individuals whose works I cite actually made substantial additions to their speeches when they published them. I disagree and point to the speeches of many orators, especially Cicero’s speeches for Murena and Varenus, which merely list certain charges with brief titles. This shows that many elements he expanded on during the delivery were cut down when published. This excellent orator also informs us that, per the old tradition, which allowed only one advocate per side, Cluentius had no one but himself to defend him; and he further notes that he spent four entire days defending Cornelius; thus, it’s clear that those speeches, which took so much time to deliver at the bar, were significantly shortened when he later condensed them into a single, albeit large, volume. However, it is argued that good pleading is one thing, while a well-structured speech is another. I know this objection has some supporters; still, I believe (though I might be mistaken) that while you can have a good pleading that isn't a good speech, a good speech cannot be poor pleading; because the written speech is a model and, in a way, the archetype of the delivered speech. That's why we find numerous spontaneous expressions in many of the best existing speeches, even in those we are certain were never spoken, like the following line from the speech against Verres: — "A certain mechanic—what's his name? Oh, thanks for reminding me: yes, I mean Polyclitus." Thus, the closer a speaker gets to the principles of good structure, the more skilled he will be in his craft; provided, however, that he is given enough time; for if he is short on that, the advocate can't justly be blamed, although certainly, the judge can. The intent of the laws, I am sure, is on my side, as they do not skimp on the orator's time; they recommend not conciseness, but rather fullness, a complete representation of all significant details. Conciseness cannot achieve this, except in the most trivial cases. Let me add what experience, that reliable guide, has taught me: I’ve often had the role of both an advocate and a judge, and I have frequently served as an assessor. In those situations, I have consistently found that the judgments of people can be influenced in various ways, and that even the slightest details can lead to the most significant outcomes. People's dispositions and understandings vary so much that they rarely agree on the same issue before them; or if they do, it's usually for different reasons. Furthermore, since everyone naturally favors their own thoughts, when they hear an argument that aligns with their previous ideas, they'll likely find it very convincing. Therefore, the orator should adjust his approach to his audience in a way that provides something each of them can receive and accept based on their own perspectives. I remember once when Regulus and I were on the same side, he pointed out to me, "You seem to think it's necessary to address every single detail: whereas I always go straight for my opponent’s throat and press him there." It’s true he holds tightly to whatever aspect he fixes on; but the drawback is, he often targets the wrong part. I replied that it could very well be that what he called the throat was actually the knee or the ankle. As for me, I said, I don't aim with such precision; I test every angle, I probe every opening; in short, to use a common saying, I leave no stone unturned. And just like in farming, I look after and cultivate not just my vineyards and forests, but my fields as well; and (to keep up the metaphor) I don't just plant those fields with wheat, but also mix in barley, legumes, and other types of grain; similarly, in my court arguments, I spread various points like different seeds to yield whatever might grow. For the moods of your judges are as hard to gauge as they are unpredictable, and as unreliable as soil and weather. The comedic writer Eupolis, I remember, praised that great orator Pericles, noting...
"On his lips Persuasion hung,
And powerful Reason rul'd his tongue:
Thus he alone could boast the art
To charm at once, and pierce the heart."
"On his lips, Persuasion rested,
And strong Reason guided his speech:
Thus he alone could claim the skill
To enchant and strike the heart at once."[23] But could Pericles, without the richest variety of expression, and merely by the force of the concise or the rapid style, or both (for they are very different), have thus charmed and pierced the heart. To delight and to persuade requires time and great command of language; and to leave a sting in the minds of the audience is an effect not to be expected from an orator who merely pinks, but from him, and him only, who thrusts in. Another comic poet,[24] speaking of the same orator, says:
[23] But could Pericles, without a rich variety of expression, and just based on a succinct or fast-paced style, or both (since they are quite different), have charmed and touched the heart in this way? To entertain and convince takes time and a strong command of language; and creating a lasting impact on the audience isn’t something to expect from an orator who just makes superficial points, but only from one who makes deep, penetrating arguments. Another comic poet, [24] speaking of the same orator, says:
"His mighty words like Jove's own thunder roll;
Greece hears, and trembles to her inmost soul."
"His powerful words thunder like Jove's;
Greece listens and trembles deep in her soul."But it is not the close and reserved; it is the copious, the majestic, and the sublime orator, who thunders, who lightens, who, in short, bears all before him in a confused whirl. There is, undeniably, a just mean in everything; but he equally misses the mark who falls short of it, as he who goes beyond it; he who is too limited as he who is too unrestrained. Hence it is as common a thing to hear our orators condemned for being too jejune and feeble as too excessive and redundant. One is said to have exceeded the bounds of his subject, the other not to have reached them. Both, no doubt, are equally in fault, with this difference, however, that in the one the fault arises from an abundance, in the other, from a deficiency; an error, in the former case, which, if it be not the sign of a more correct, is certainly of a more fertile genius. When I say this, I would not be understood to approve that everlasting talker[25] mentioned in Homer, but that other' described in the following lines:
But it's not the quiet and reserved speakers; it's the abundant, the grand, and the inspiring orator who commands attention, who strikes with intensity, who, in short, sweeps everything before him in a chaotic whirlwind. There is definitely a balance in everything; but both those who fall short and those who go too far miss the mark; the one who is too limited is just as mistaken as the one who is too reckless. Thus, it’s common to hear our speakers criticized for being either too dull and weak or too excessive and repetitive. One is said to have gone beyond their topic, while the other hasn’t fully engaged with it. Both are clearly at fault, though there's a distinction: the former's fault stems from excess, while the latter's arises from a lack. The former's mistake, if not a sign of better insight, certainly indicates a more creative mind. When I say this, I don’t mean to endorse that endless babbler—A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ mentioned in Homer—but rather the other one described in the following lines:
"Frequent and soft, as falls the winter snow,
Thus from his lips the copious periods flow."
"Frequent and gentle, like winter snowflakes,
So from his lips flow his plentiful words."Not but that I extremely admire him,[26] too, of whom the poet says,
Not that I don't admire him as well, [26] too, of whom the poet says,
"Few were his words, but wonderfully strong."
"His words were few, but incredibly powerful."
Yet, if the choice were given me, I should give the preference to that style resembling winter snow, that is, to the full, uninterrupted, and diffusive; in short, to that pomp of eloquence which seems all heavenly and divine. But (it is replied) the harangue of a more moderate length is most generally admired. It is:—but only by indolent people; and to fix the standard by their laziness and false delicacy would be simply ridiculous. Were you to consult persons of this cast, they would tell you, not only that it is best to say little, but that it is best to say nothing at all. Thus, my friend, I have laid before you my opinions upon this subject, and I am willing to change them if not agreeable to yours. But should you disagree with me, pray let me know clearly your reasons why. For, though I ought to yield in this case to your more enlightened judgment, yet, in a point of such consequence, I had rather be convinced by argument than by authority. So if I don't seem to you very wide of the mark, a line or two from you in return, intimating your concurrence, will be sufficient to confirm me in my opinion: on the other hand, if you should think me mistaken, let me have your objections at full length. Does it not look rather like bribery, my requiring only a short letter, if you agree with me; but a very long one if you should be of a different opinion. Farewell.
If I had a choice, I'd definitely prefer a style that’s like winter snow—full, uninterrupted, and expansive; in short, I favor that grand eloquence that feels all heavenly and divine. But some say that a more moderate length is what people usually admire. Sure, but that’s only true for lazy folks; basing standards on their indifference and false sensitivity would be ridiculous. If you were to ask people like that, they’d tell you it’s better to say little or even nothing at all. So, my friend, I’ve shared my thoughts on this matter, and I'm open to changing them if they don’t align with yours. But if you disagree, please clearly explain your reasons. While I should defer to your more informed judgment, I’d prefer to be convinced through argument rather than authority. So if you don’t think I’m far off, just a line or two from you confirming your agreement would be enough to solidify my opinion. On the other hand, if you believe I'm mistaken, please give me your full objections. Doesn’t it sound a bit like bribery that I only ask for a short letter if you agree with me, but a lengthy one if you disagree? Take care.
XV — To PATERNUS
As I rely very much upon the soundness of your judgment, so I do upon the goodness of your eyes: not because I think your discernment very great (for I don't want to make you conceited), but because I think it as good as mine: which, it must be confessed, is saying a great deal. Joking apart, I like the look of the slaves which were purchased for me on your recommendation very well; all I further care about is, that they be honest: and for this I must depend upon their characters more than their countenances. Farewell.
I really trust your judgment, and I also trust your perspective. It’s not that I think you have an exceptional eye (I wouldn’t want to make you arrogant), but I believe your judgment is as good as mine, which is saying something. Seriously though, I’m pleased with the slaves you recommended for me; all I really care about now is that they are honest. For that, I’ll have to rely more on their character than their looks. Take care.
XVI — To CATILIUS SEVERUS [27]
I AM at present (and have been a considerable time) detained in Rome, under the most stunning apprehensions. Titus Aristo,[28] whom I have a singular admiration and affection for, is fallen into a long and obstinate illness, which troubles me. Virtue, knowledge, and good sense, shine out with so superior a lustre in this excellent man that learning herself, and every valuable endowment, seem involved in the danger of his single person. How consummate his knowledge, both in the political and civil laws of his country! How thoroughly conversant is he in every branch of history or antiquity? In a word, there is nothing you might wish to know which he could not teach you. As for me, whenever I would acquaint myself with any abstruse point, I go to him as my store-house. What an engaging sincerity, what dignity in his conversation! how chastened and becoming is his caution! Though he conceives, at once, every point in debate, yet he is as slow to decide as he is quick to apprehend; calmly and deliberately sifting and weighing every opposite reason that is offered, and tracing it, with a most judicious penetration, from its source through all its remotest consequences. His diet is frugal, his dress plain; and whenever I enter his chamber, and view him reclined upon his couch, I consider the scene before me as a true image of ancient simplicity, to which his illustrious mind reflects the noblest ornament. He places no part of his happiness in ostentation, but in the secret approbation of his conscience, seeking the reward of his virtue, not in the clamorous applauses of the world, but in the silent satisfaction which results from having acted well. In short, you will not easily find his equal, even among our philosophers by outward profession. No, he does not frequent the gymnasia or porticoes[29] nor does he amuse his own and others' leisure with endless controversies, but busies himself in the scenes of civil and active life. Many has he assisted with his interest, still more with his advice, and withal in the practice of temperance, piety, justice, and fortitude, he has no superior. You would be astonished, were you there to see, at the patience with which he bears his illness, how he holds out against pain, endures thirst, and quietly submits to this raging fever and to the pressure of those clothes which are laid upon him to promote perspiration. He lately called me and a few more of his particular friends to his bedside, requesting us to ask his physicians what turn they apprehended his distemper would take; that, if they pronounced it incurable, he might voluntarily put an end to his life; but if there were hopes of a recovery, how tedious and difficult soever it might prove, he would calmly wait the event; for so much, he thought, was due to the tears and entreaties of his wife and daughter, and to the affectionate intercession of his friends, as not voluntarily to abandon our hopes, if they were not entirely desperate. A true hero's resolution this, in my estimation, and worthy the highest applause. Instances are frequent in the world, of rushing into the arms of death without reflection and by a sort of blind impulse but deliberately to weigh the reasons for life or death, and to be determined in our choice as either side of the scale prevails, shows a great mind. We have had the satisfaction to receive the opinion of his physicians in his favour: may heaven favour their promises and relieve me at length from this painful anxiety. Once easy in my mind, I shall go back to my favourite Laurentum, or, in other words, to my books, my papers and studious leisure. Just now, so much of my time and thoughts are taken up in attendance upon my friend, and anxiety for him, that I have neither leisure nor inclination for any reading or writing whatever. Thus you have my fears, my wishes, and my after-plans. Write me in return, but in a gayer strain, an account not only of what you are and have been doing, but of what you intend doing too. It will be a very sensible consolation to me in this disturbance of mind, to be assured that yours is easy. Farewell.
I’m currently stuck in Rome, and have been for quite some time, under a lot of stress. Titus Aristo, whom I greatly admire and care for, has fallen into a long and stubborn illness, which really worries me. His virtue, knowledge, and good judgment shine so brightly that it feels like everything valuable is at risk with him. His understanding of the political and civil laws of his country is incredible! He’s well-versed in every aspect of history and antiquity. In short, there’s nothing you might want to know that he couldn’t teach you. Whenever I want to learn about any complicated topic, I turn to him as my resource. His sincerity is engaging, his conversation dignified, and his caution is well-measured and appropriate. Even though he quickly grasps every point in discussion, he takes his time to decide, carefully weighing every opposing argument and tracing it thoughtfully from its source to its far-reaching consequences. His diet is simple, his clothing is plain; and whenever I enter his room and see him lying on his couch, I view it as a true image of ancient simplicity, which his brilliant mind embellishes. He finds no happiness in showiness, but rather in the quiet approval of his conscience, seeking the reward of his goodness not in the loud applause of the world, but in the silent satisfaction of having acted rightly. In short, you won’t easily find someone like him, even among professional philosophers. No, he doesn’t frequent gyms or public spaces, nor does he occupy himself or others with endless debates, but instead focuses on the realities of civic and active life. He has helped many with his influence, and even more with his advice. In practicing temperance, piety, justice, and courage, he stands unrivaled. You would be amazed to see how patiently he endures his illness, how he withstands pain, manages thirst, and quietly accepts this raging fever and the weight of the clothes used to promote sweating. Recently, he called me and a few close friends to his bedside, asking us to consult his doctors about the prognosis of his condition. If they said it was incurable, he wanted to be able to end his life voluntarily; but if there was hope for recovery, no matter how slow and difficult it might be, he would calmly wait for the outcome. He believed it was due to the tears and pleas of his wife and daughter, as well as the affectionate intervention of his friends, not to give up hope unless it was completely hopeless. In my opinion, this shows the true heroism and deserves the highest praise. There are many instances in the world of people rushing toward death without thought or reason, but to deliberately weigh the reasons for living or dying, and to make a choice based on which side is heavier, signifies a great mind. We’ve recently received good news from his doctors. May heaven fulfill their promises and finally ease my worries. Once I’m at ease, I’ll return to my beloved Laurentum, or in other words, to my books, my papers, and my quiet study. Right now, so much of my time and thoughts are consumed by my friend and my anxiety for him, that I have neither the time nor desire for reading or writing anything at all. So there are my fears, my hopes, and my future plans. Write back to me, but in a lighter tone, not just about what you’ve been doing, but what you plan to do as well. It will be a great comfort to me amid this mental turmoil to know that you are at ease. Farewell.
XVII — To VOCONIUS ROMANUS
ROME has not for many years beheld a more magnificent and memorable spectacle than was lately exhibited in the public funeral of that great, illustrious, and no less fortunate man, Verginius Rufus. He lived thirty years after he had reached the zenith of his fame. He read poems composed in his honour, he read histories of his achievements, and was himself witness of his fame among posterity. He was thrice raised to the dignity of consul, that he might at least be the highest of subjects, who[30] had refused to be the first of princes. As he escaped the resentment of those emperors to whom his virtues had given umbrage and even rendered him odious, and ended his days when this best of princes, this friend of mankind[31] was in quiet possession of the empire, it seems as if Providence had purposely preserved him to these times, that he might receive the honour of a public funeral. He reached his eighty-fourth year, in full tranquillity and universally revered, having enjoyed strong health during his lifetime, with the exception of a trembling in his hands, which, however, gave him no pain. His last illness, indeed, was severe and tedious, but even that circumstance added to his reputation. As he was practising his voice with a view of returning his public acknowledgements to the emperor, who had promoted him to the consulship, a large volume he had taken into his hand, and which happened to be too heavy for so old a man to hold standing up, slid from his grasp. In hastily endeavouring to recover it, his foot slipped on the smooth pavement, and he fell down and broke his thigh-bone, which being clumsily set, his age as well being against him, did not properly unite again. The funeral obsequies paid to the memory of this great man have done honour to the emperor, to the age, and to the bar. The consul Cornelius Tacitus[32] pronounced his funeral oration and thus his good fortune was crowned by the public applause of so eloquent an orator. He has departed from our midst, full of years, indeed, and of glory; as illustrious by the honours he refused as by those he accepted. Yet still we shall miss him and lament him, as the shining model of a past age; I, especially, shall feel his loss, for I not only admired him as a patriot, but loved him as a friend. We were of the same province, and of neighbouring towns, and our estates were also contiguous. Besides these accidental connections, he was left my guardian, and always treated me with a parent's affection. Whenever I offered myself as a candidate for any office in the state, he constantly supported me with his interest; and although he had long since given up all such services to friends, he would kindly leave his retirement and come to give me his vote in person. On the day on which the priests nominate those they consider most worthy of the sacred office[33] he constantly proposed me. Even in his last illness, apprehending the possibility of the senate's appointing him one of the five commissioners for reducing the public expenses, he fixed upon me, young as I am, to bear his excuses, in preference to so many other friends, elderly men too, and of consular rank and said to me, "Had I a son of my own, I would entrust you with this matter." And so I cannot but lament his death, as though it were premature, and pour out my grief into your bosom; if indeed one has any right to grieve, or to call it death at all, which to such a man terminates his mortality, rather than ends his life. He lives, and will live on for ever; and his fame will extend and be more celebrated by posterity, now that he is gone from our sight. I had much else to write to you but my mind is full of this. I keep thinking of Verginius: I see him before me: I am for ever fondly yet vividly imagining that I hear him, am speaking to him, embrace him. There are men amongst us, his fellow-citizens, perhaps, who may rival him in virtue; but not one that will ever approach him in glory. Farewell.
ROME hasn’t seen a more magnificent and memorable event in years than the recent public funeral of the great, illustrious, and equally fortunate Verginius Rufus. He lived thirty years after reaching the peak of his fame. He listened to poems written in his honor, read histories of his accomplishments, and witnessed the enduring legacy of his fame. He was appointed consul three times, making him the highest-ranking subject who had refused to be the first among princes. As he escaped the wrath of those emperors who were threatened by his virtues and even found him detestable, he passed away when this best of princes, a true friend of humanity, held the empire in peaceful possession. It seems like fate preserved him for this time so he could be honored with a public funeral. He reached the age of eighty-four, living peacefully and widely respected, having enjoyed good health throughout his life, except for a slight tremor in his hands, which caused him no pain. His final illness was indeed severe and prolonged, but even this added to his reputation. While he was practicing his speech to thank the emperor who had promoted him to consul, a heavy book he was holding slipped from his grip. In his haste to catch it, he lost his footing on the smooth pavement and fell, breaking his thigh bone, which was poorly set, and at his age, it didn’t heal properly. The funeral rites honoring this great man also honored the emperor, the era, and the legal profession. The consul Cornelius Tacitus delivered his funeral speech, and thus his good fortune was solidified by the public admiration of such an eloquent speaker. He has left us, indeed, full of years and glory; renowned for both the honors he accepted and those he turned down. Yet, we will still miss him and mourn him as the shining model of a bygone era; I, especially, will feel his absence deeply, as I not only admired him as a patriot but loved him as a friend. We hailed from the same province and neighboring towns, and our estates were also close. Besides these connections, he was my guardian and always treated me with paternal love. Whenever I ran for any state position, he consistently backed me with his influence; and although he had long since stopped helping friends with such matters, he would kindly leave his retirement to personally cast his vote for me. On the day the priests nominate those they deem most worthy of the sacred position, he always recommended me. Even during his last illness, fearing the senate might appoint him as one of the five commissioners for managing public expenses, he chose me, despite my youth, to present his excuses rather than any number of older friends, including those of consular rank, saying to me, "If I had a son, I’d trust you with this." So I cannot help but mourn his death, feeling it premature, and share my sorrow with you; if indeed one has a right to grieve, or even call it death at all, which for such a man signifies a close to his mortal life rather than an end to his existence. He lives, and will continue to live on forever; his legacy will grow and be celebrated by future generations now that he’s no longer with us. I had much more to tell you, but my mind is consumed by thoughts of Verginius: I picture him vividly; I’m forever affectionately imagining hearing him, speaking with him, embracing him. There may be men among us, his fellow citizens, who could match him in virtue; but no one will ever come close to his glory. Farewell.
XVIII — To NEPOS
THE great fame of Isaeus had already preceded him here; but we find him even more wonderful than we had heard. He possesses the utmost readiness, copiousness, and abundance of language: he always speaks extempore, and his lectures are as finished as though he had spent a long time over their written composition. His style is Greek, or rather the genuine Attic. His exordiums are terse, elegant, attractive, and occasionally impressive and majestic. He suggests several subjects for discussion, allows his audience their choice, sometimes to even name which side he shall take, rises, arranges himself, and begins. At once he has everything almost equally at command. Recondite meanings of things are suggested to you, and words—what words they are! exquisitely chosen and polished. These extempore speeches of his show the wideness of his reading, and how much practice he has had in composition. His preface is to the point, his narrative lucid, his summing up forcible, his rhetorical ornament imposing. In a word, he teaches, entertains, and affects you; and you are at a loss to decide which of the three he does best. His reflections are frequent, his syllogisms also are frequent, condensed, and carefully finished, a result not easily attainable even with the pen. As for his memory, you would hardly believe what it is capable of. He repeats from a long way back what he has previously delivered extempore, without missing a single word. This marvellous faculty he has acquired by dint of great application and practice, for night and day he does nothing, hears nothing, says nothing else. He has passed his sixtieth year and is still only a rhetorician, and I know no class of men more single-hearted, more genuine, more excellent than this class. We who have to go through the rough work of the bar and of real disputes unavoidably contract a certain unprincipled adroitness. The school, the lecture-room, the imaginary case, all this, on the other hand, is perfectly innocent and harmless, and equally enjoyable, especially to old people, for what can be happier at that time of life than to enjoy what we found pleasantest in our young days? I consider Isaeus then, not only the most eloquent, but the happiest, of men, and if you are not longing to make his acquaintance, you must be made of stone and iron. So, if not upon my account, or for any other reason, come, for the sake of hearing this man, at least. Have you never read of a certain inhabitant of Cadiz who was so impressed with the name and fame of Livy that he came from the remotest corner of the earth on purpose to see him, and, his curiosity gratified, went straight home again. It is utter want of taste, shows simple ignorance, is almost an actual disgrace to a man, not to set any high value upon a proficiency in so pleasing, noble, refining a science. "I have authors," you will reply, "here in my own study, just as eloquent." True: but then those authors you can read at any time, while you cannot always get the opportunity of hearing eloquence. Besides, as the proverb says, "The living voice is that which sways the soul;" yes, far more. For notwithstanding what one reads is more clearly understood than what one hears, yet the utterance, countenance, garb, aye and the very gestures of the speaker, alike concur in fixing an impression upon the mind; that is, unless we disbelieve the truth of Aeschines' statement, who, after he had read to the Rhodians that celebrated speech of Demosthenes, upon their expressing their admiration of it, is said to have added, "Ah! what would you have said, could you have heard the wild beast himself?" And Aeschines, if we may take Demosthenes' word for it, was no mean elocutionist; yet, he could not but confess that the speech would have sounded far finer from the lips of its author. I am saying all this with a view to persuading you to hear Isaeus, if even for the mere sake of being able to say you have heard him. Farewell.
The great fame of Isaeus had already reached here, but we find him even more impressive than we had heard. He has an incredible ability, rich vocabulary, and plenty of words: he always speaks off the cuff, and his lectures are polished as if he had worked on them for a long time. His style is Greek, or rather, authentic Attic. His openings are concise, elegant, engaging, and sometimes striking and grand. He suggests various topics for discussion, allows his audience to choose, sometimes even lets them decide which side he will take, stands up, gets himself ready, and begins. Right away, he has everything almost equally at his fingertips. Hidden meanings are implied, and the words—what exquisite and carefully chosen words they are! His spontaneous speeches demonstrate the breadth of his reading and the extensive practice he’s had in crafting compositions. His introduction is direct, his storytelling clear, his conclusions powerful, and his rhetorical flourishes impressive. In short, he teaches, entertains, and influences you; it's hard to decide which one he excels at the most. His reflections are frequent, and his syllogisms are also frequent, concise, and well-crafted, something that's not easily achieved even through writing. As for his memory, you would hardly believe what it is capable of. He can recall what he has previously delivered off the cuff from a long time ago without missing a single word. This remarkable ability comes from his intense focus and practice, as he dedicates every moment day and night to it. He has passed his sixtieth year and remains solely a rhetorician, and I don’t know anyone more sincere, genuine, or excellent than those in this field. We who have to deal with the tough work of the legal system and real disputes inevitably develop a certain unprincipled cleverness. On the other hand, the school, the lecture hall, and imaginary cases are completely innocent and harmless, and equally enjoyable, especially for older people, because what can be more pleasurable in later life than revisiting what we found most enjoyable in our youth? I consider Isaeus not only the most eloquent man but also the happiest, and if you’re not eager to meet him, you must be made of stone and iron. So, if not for my sake or any other reason, at least come to hear this man. Have you never read about a certain man from Cadiz who was so captivated by Livy's name and fame that he traveled from the farthest corner of the world just to see him, and once his curiosity was satisfied, went straight back home? It's a total lack of taste, shows pure ignorance, and is nearly a disgrace not to value proficiency in such a delightful, noble, and enriching field. "I have authors," you might say, "here in my own study, just as eloquent." True, but you can read those authors anytime, while you can’t always find the chance to hear eloquence. Moreover, as the saying goes, "The living voice is what moves the soul;" yes, even more so. Because although what one reads is more clearly understood than what one hears, the speaker’s voice, expression, appearance, and even their gestures all contribute to leaving an impression on the mind; that is, unless we doubt what Aeschines stated, who, after reading that famous speech of Demosthenes to the Rhodians and hearing their admiration, is said to have added, "Ah! What would you have said if you had heard the wild beast himself?" And Aeschines, if we can trust Demosthenes, was no slouch as a speaker; yet, he had to concede that the speech would have sounded far better coming from its original author. I’m saying all this to persuade you to hear Isaeus, even just to say you’ve done so. Farewell.
XIX — To AVITUS
IT would be a long story, and of no great importance, to tell you by what accident I found myself dining the other day with an individual with whom I am by no means intimate, and who, in his own opinion, does things in good style and economically as well, but according to mine, with meanness and extravagance combined. Some very elegant dishes were served up to himself and a few more of us, whilst those placed before the rest of the company consisted simply of cheap dishes and scraps. There were, in small bottles, three different kinds of wine; not that the guest might take their choice, but that they might not have any option in their power; one kind being for himself, and for us; another sort for his lesser friends (for it seems he has degrees of friends), and the third for his own freedmen and ours. My neighbour,[34] reclining next me, observing this, asked me if I approved the arrangement. Not at all, I told him. "Pray then," he asked, "what is your method upon such occasions?" "Mine," I returned, "is to give all my visitors the same reception; for when I give an invitation, it is to entertain, not distinguish, my company: I place every man upon my own level whom I admit to my table." "Not excepting even your freedmen?" "Not excepting even my freedmen, whom I consider on these occasions my guests, as much as any of the rest." He replied, "This must cost you a great deal." "Not in the least." "How can that be?" "Simply because, although my freedmen don't drink the same wine as myself, yet I drink the same as they do." And, no doubt about it, if a man is wise enough to moderate his appetite, he will not find it such a very expensive thing to share with all his visitors what he takes himself. Restrain it, keep it in, if you wish to be true economist. You will find temperance a far better way of saving than treating other people rudely can be. Why do I say all this? Why, for fear a young man of your high character and promise should be imposed upon by this immoderate luxury which prevails at some tables, under the specious notion of frugality. Whenever any folly of this sort falls under my eye, I shall, just because I care for you, point it out to you as an example you ought to shun. Remember, then, nothing is more to be avoided than this modern alliance of luxury with meanness; odious enough when existing separate and distinct, but still more hateful where you meet with them together. Farewell.
It would be a long and unimportant story to explain how I ended up having dinner the other day with someone I'm not really close to, who thinks he does things with style and thrift, but I see it as a mix of stinginess and extravagance. He had some fancy dishes served to him and a few others, while the rest of us got stuck with cheap eats and leftovers. There were three kinds of wine in small bottles; not so the guests could choose, but so they couldn’t have any real options. One type was for him, another for his lesser friends (turns out he has different levels of friends), and the third was for his freedmen and ours. My neighbor, [34], lounging next to me, noticed this and asked if I approved of the setup. Not at all, I replied. “Then what do you do in such situations?” he asked. “I treat all my guests the same; when I invite people over, it’s to entertain, not to show favoritism. I put everyone on the same level at my table.” “Not even your freedmen?” “Not even my freedmen, whom I view as my guests, just like the others.” He responded, “This must cost you a lot.” “Not really.” “How can that be?” “Because, even though my freedmen don’t drink the same wine as I do, I drink what they drink.” And honestly, if a person is wise enough to control their appetite, they won’t find it too expensive to share what they have with their guests. Keep it in check, if you want to be a true economist. You’ll find that moderation is a much better way to save than treating others poorly. Why am I saying all this? Because I worry that a young person of your character and potential might be misled by the excessive luxury that some people display at their tables, disguised as frugality. Whenever I see this kind of foolishness, I’ll point it out to you, just because I care about you and think you should avoid it. Remember, nothing is worse than the modern combination of luxury with stinginess; it’s bad enough when they exist separately, but even more repulsive when they show up together. Take care.
XX — To MACRINUS
THE senate decreed yesterday, on the emperor's motion, a triumphal statue to Vestricius Spurinna: not as they would to many others, who never were in action, or saw a camp, or heard the sound of a trumpet, unless at a show; but as it would be decreed to those who have justly bought such a distinction with their blood, their exertions, and their deeds. Spurinna forcibly restored the king of the Bructeri[35] to his throne; and this by the noblest kind of victory; for he subdued that warlike people by the terror of the mere display of his preparation for the campaign. This is his reward as a hero, while, to console him for the loss of his son Cottius, who died during his absence upon that expedition, they also voted a statue to the youth; a very unusual honour for one so young; but the services of the father deserved that the pain of so severe a wound should be soothed by no common balm. Indeed Cottius himself evinced such remarkable promise of the highest qualities that it is but fitting his short limited term of life should be extended, as it were, by this kind of immortality. He was so pure and blameless, so full of dignity, and commanded such respect, that he might have challenged in moral goodness much older men, with whom he now shares equal honours. Honours, if I am not mistaken, conferred not only to perpetuate the memory of the deceased youth, and in consolation to the surviving father, but for the sake of public example also. This will rouse and stimulate our young men to cultivate every worthy principle, when they see such rewards bestowed upon one of their own years, provided he deserve them: at the same time that men of quality will be encouraged to beget children and to have the joy and satisfaction of leaving a worthy race behind, if their children survive them, or of so glorious a consolation, should they survive their children. Looking at it in this light then, I am glad, upon public grounds, that a statue is decreed Cottius: and for my own sake too, just as much; for I loved this most favoured, gifted, youth, as ardently as I now grievously miss him amongst us. So that it will be a great satisfaction to me to be able to look at this figure from time to time as I pass by, contemplate it, stand underneath, and walk to and fro before it. For if having the pictures of the departed placed in our homes lightens sorrow, how much more those public representations of them which are not only memorials of their air and countenance, but of their glory and honour besides? Farewell.
THE Senate decided yesterday, at the emperor's suggestion, to create a triumphal statue for Vestricius Spurinna: not like they would for many others who have never seen battle, camp, or heard the sound of a trumpet outside of a performance; but like it’s awarded to those who have rightfully earned such an honor with their blood, efforts, and deeds. Spurinna forcibly restored the king of the Bructeri to his throne, achieving this through the best kind of victory; he defeated that warrior people merely by instilling fear with the show of his preparations for the campaign. This is his reward as a hero, and to console him for the loss of his son Cottius, who died while he was away on that mission, they also voted for a statue of the young man; a very rare honor for someone so young; but the father's merits warranted that the pain of such a deep loss should be eased with no ordinary gesture. Indeed, Cottius himself showed such exceptional promise for greatness that it's only right his brief time on earth should be extended, so to speak, by this form of immortality. He was so pure and blameless, so dignified, and commanded such respect, that he could have competed in moral goodness with much older men, with whom he now shares equal honors. These honors, if I'm not mistaken, were given not just to honor the memory of the deceased youth, and to comfort the grieving father, but also as a public example. This will inspire our young men to pursue every admirable principle when they see such rewards granted to someone their own age, provided he merits them: at the same time, men of quality will be encouraged to have children and experience the joy and fulfillment of leaving behind a worthy legacy, if their children outlive them, or find consolation if they outlive their children. Viewed in this way, I am pleased, for public reasons, that a statue is being dedicated to Cottius: and I feel the same personally; for I loved this most cherished, talented youth as deeply as I now mourn his absence among us. Therefore, it will be a great comfort for me to see this statue from time to time as I pass by, to contemplate it, stand beneath it, and walk back and forth before it. For if having pictures of the departed displayed in our homes eases sorrow, how much more these public representations of them, which are not only reminders of their appearance but also of their glory and honor? Farewell.
XXI To PAISCUS
As I know you eagerly embrace every opportunity of obliging me, so there is no man whom I had rather be under an obligation to. I apply to you, therefore, in preference to anyone else, for a favour which I am extremely desirous of obtaining. You, who are commander-in-chief of a very considerable army, have many opportunities of exercising your generosity; and the length of time you have enjoyed that post must have enabled you to provide for all your own friends. I hope you will now turn your eyes upon some of mine: as indeed they are but a few Your generous disposition, I know, would be better pleased if the number were greater, but one or two will suffice my modest desires; at present I will only mention Voconius Romanus. His father was of great distinction among the Roman knights, and his father-in-law, or, I might more properly call him, his second father, (for his affectionate treatment of Voconius entitles him to that appellation) was still more conspicuous. His mother was one of the most considerable ladies of Upper Spain: you know what character the people of that province bear, and how remarkable they are for their strictness of their manners. As for himself, he lately held the post of flamen.[36] Now, from the time when we were first students together, I have felt very tenderly attached to him. We lived under the same roof, in town and country, we joked together, we shared each other's serious thoughts: for where indeed could I have found a truer friend or pleasanter companion than he? In his conversation, and even in his very voice and countenance, there is a rare sweetness; as at the bar he displays talents of a high order; acuteness, elegance, ease, and skill: and he writes such letters too that were you to read them you would imagine they had been dictated by the Muses themselves. I have a very great affection for him, as he has for me. Even in the earlier part of our lives, I warmly embraced every opportunity of doing him all the good services which then lay in my power, as I have lately obtained for him from our most gracious prince[37] the privilege[38] granted to those who have three children: a favour which, though Cæsar very rarely bestows, and always with great caution, yet he conferred, at my request, in such a matter as to give it the air and grace of being his own choice.
Since I know you are always ready to help me, there’s no one I’d rather owe a favor to than you. I’m reaching out to you rather than anyone else for a favor that I really want to get. You, as the commander-in-chief of a large army, have plenty of chances to show your generosity; and having been in this position for a while, you must have been able to support all your friends. I hope you’ll now consider some of mine: they are very few. I know your generous nature would prefer more, but one or two will meet my modest wishes; for now, I’ll just mention Voconius Romanus. His father was highly respected among the Roman knights, and his father-in-law—or, more accurately, his second father (since he treats Voconius with such care)—was even more distinguished. His mother was one of the most prominent ladies from Upper Spain: you know how the people from that region are known for their strict values. As for Voconius himself, he recently held the position of flamen. Since we first became students together, I’ve been very fond of him. We lived together, both in the city and the countryside, we joked, and we shared our serious thoughts: honestly, where could I have found a truer friend or better companion? There’s a rare sweetness in his conversation, voice, and demeanor; he showcases remarkable talents at the bar—sharpness, elegance, ease, and skill. He even writes such letters that, if you read them, you’d think the Muses themselves had inspired him. I care for him deeply, as he does for me. Even earlier in our lives, I eagerly looked for every chance to help him however I could, as I have recently secured for him from our very gracious prince the privilege granted to those with three children: a favor that, although Caesar rarely gives and always does with great caution, he agreed to at my request, presenting it as if it were his own choice.
The best way of showing that I think he deserves the kindnesses he has already received from me is by increasing them, especially as he always accepts my services so gratefully as to deserve more. Thus I have shown you what manner of man Romanus is, how thoroughly I have proved his worth, and how much I love him. Let me entreat you to honour him with your patronage in a way suitable to the generosity of your heart, and the eminence of your station. But above all let him have your affection; for though you were to confer upon him the utmost you have in your power to bestow, you can give him nothing more valuable than your friendship-That you may see he is worthy of it, even to the closest degree of intimacy, I send you this brief sketch of his tastes, character, his whole life, in fact. I should continue my intercessions in his behalf, but that I know you prefer not being pressed, and I have already repeated them in every line of this letter: for, to show a good reason for what one asks is true intercession, and of the most effectual kind. Farewell.
The best way to show that I believe he deserves the kindness I’ve already shown him is by giving him even more, especially since he always appreciates my help so much that he deserves it. So, I’ve illustrated what kind of person Romanus is, how thoroughly I’ve assessed his value, and how much I care about him. I urge you to support him in a way that reflects the generosity of your heart and the high status you hold. But more than anything, let him have your friendship; even if you gave him everything you possibly could, nothing would be more valuable than that. To demonstrate that he is truly deserving of your closeness, I’m sending you a quick overview of his interests, character, and his entire life, in fact. I would continue to advocate for him, but I know you prefer not to be pressured, and I’ve already mentioned it throughout this letter: showing a good reason for a request is the heart of true advocacy and the most effective kind. Take care.
XXII — To MAIMUS
You guessed correctly: I am much engaged in pleading before the Hundred. The business there is more fatiguing than pleasant. Trifling, inconsiderable cases, mostly; it is very seldom that anything worth speaking of, either from the importance of the question or the rank of the persons concerned, comes before them. There are very few lawyers either whom I take any pleasure in working with. The rest, a parcel of impudent young fellows, many of whom one knows nothing whatever about, come here to get some practice in speaking, and conduct themselves so forwardly and with such utter want of deference that my friend Attilius exactly hit it, I think, when he made the observation that "boys set out at the bar with cases in the Court of the Hundred as they do at school with Homer," intimating that at both places they begin where they should end. But in former times (so my elders tell me) no youth, even of the best families, was allowed in unless introduced by some person of consular dignity. As things are now, since every fence of modesty and decorum is broken down, and all distinctions are levelled and confounded, the present young generation, so far from waiting to be introduced, break in of their own free will. The audience at their heels are fit attendants upon such orators; a low rabble of hired mercenaries, supplied by contract. They get together in the middle of the court, where the dole is dealt round to them as openly as if they were in a dining-room: and at this noble price they run from court to court. The Greeks have an appropriate name in their language for this sort of people, importing that they are applauders by profession, and we stigmatize them with the opprobrious title of table-flatterers: yet the dirty business alluded to increases every day. It was only yesterday two of my domestic officers, mere striplings, were hired to cheer somebody or other, at three denarii apiece:[39] that is what the highest eloquence goes for. Upon these terms we fill as many benches as we please, and gather a crowd; this is how those rending shouts are raised, as soon as the individual standing up in the middle of the ring gives the signal. For, you must know, these honest fellows, who understand nothing of what is said, or, if they did, could not hear it, would be at a loss without a signal, how to time their applause: for many of them don't hear a syllable, and are as noisy as any of the rest. If, at any time, you should happen to be passing by when the court is sitting, and feel at all interested to know how any speaker is acquitting himself, you have no occasion to give yourself the trouble of getting up on the judge's platform, no need to listen; it is easy enough to find out, for you may be quite sure he that gets most applause deserves it the least. Largius Licinus was the first to introduce this fashion; but then he went no farther than to go round and solicit an audience. I know, I remember hearing this from my tutor Quinctilian. "I used," he told me, "to go and hear Domitius Afer, and as he was pleading once before the Hundred in his usual slow and impressive manner, hearing, close to him, a most immoderate and unusual noise, and being a good deal surprised at this, he left off: the noise ceased, and he began again: he was interrupted a second time, and a third. At last he enquired who it was that was speaking? He was told, Licinus. Upon which, he broke off the case, exclaiming, 'Eloquence is no more!'" The truth is it had only begun to decline then, when in Afer's opinion it no longer existed — whereas now it is almost extinct. I am ashamed to tell you of the mincing and affected pronunciation of the speakers, and of the shrill-voiced applause with which their effusions are received; nothing seems wanting to complete this sing-song performance except claps, or rather cymbals and tambourines. Howlings indeed (for I can call such applause, which would be indecent even in the theatre, by no other name) abound in plenty. Up to this time the interest of my friends and the consideration of my early time of life have kept me in this court, as I am afraid they might think I was doing it to shirk work rather than to avoid these indecencies, were I to leave it just yet: however, I go there less frequently than I did, and am thus effecting a gradual retreat. Farewell.
You guessed right: I'm quite busy arguing cases before the Hundred. The work there is more exhausting than enjoyable. Mostly it's minor, inconsequential cases; it's pretty rare that anything important, either in terms of the issue at hand or the status of the people involved, comes before them. There are very few lawyers I actually enjoy working with. The others, a bunch of cocky young guys, many of whom I know nothing about, come here to practice their speaking, and they act so arrogantly and with such utter disrespect that my friend Attilius nailed it when he said that "kids start at the bar with cases in the Court of the Hundred just like they do at school with Homer," implying that at both places they begin where they should end. But in the past (so my elders tell me) no young person, even from the best families, was allowed in unless introduced by someone of consular status. Nowadays, since all sense of modesty and decorum has been tossed out the window, and all distinctions are blurred, today’s youth, far from waiting to be introduced, barge in on their own. The audience they attract consists of lowly followers, a rabble of hired hands, brought in through contracts. They gather in the middle of the court, where the handouts are distributed as openly as they would be in a dining room: and for this noble price, they rush from court to court. The Greeks have a fitting term for this kind of people, which means they’re professional applauders, while we label them with the derogatory title of table-flatterers; yet this sleazy practice is increasing daily. Just yesterday, two of my younger assistants, mere kids, were hired to cheer for someone at three denarii each:[39] that's the going rate for top-notch oratory. With this setup, we can fill as many benches as we want and gather a crowd; this is how those loud shouts erupt, as soon as the person standing in the center gives the signal. You see, these honest folks, who don’t understand anything being said, or if they did, couldn’t hear it, would be lost without a signal to time their applause: many of them don’t catch a word, and are just as noisy as the rest. If you ever happen to walk by while the court is in session and are curious to know how any speaker is doing, you don’t need to bother getting up on the judge’s platform or listening; it’s easy to figure out since you can be sure that the one who gets the most applause deserves it the least. Largius Licinus was the first to start this trend, but he only went so far as to go around asking for an audience. I remember hearing this from my teacher Quinctilian. "I used," he told me, "to go hear Domitius Afer, and as he was arguing once before the Hundred in his typical slow and dramatic style, while sitting close to him, I heard a loud and unusual noise, and was quite surprised by it; he stopped, the noise died down, and he started again: he was interrupted a second time, and then a third. Finally, he asked who was speaking? He was told it was Licinus. At that, he gave up, exclaiming, 'Eloquence is gone!'" The truth is it had only begun to decline back then, when in Afer’s opinion it no longer existed — whereas now it is nearly extinct. I'm embarrassed to mention the affected way the speakers pronounce their words, and the high-pitched cheering that greets their speeches; all that seems missing to complete this sing-song performance is clapping, or rather cymbals and tambourines. Howling indeed (for I can hardly call such applause, which would be inappropriate even in a theater, anything else) is abundant. So far, my friends' interests and the consideration of my youth have kept me in this court, as I'm afraid they might think I’m doing it to dodge work instead of avoiding these indecencies if I were to leave now: however, I'm going there less often than I used to, and am gradually stepping back. Goodbye.
XXIII — To GALLUS
You are surprised that I am so fond of my Laurentine, or (if you prefer the name) my Laurens: but you will cease to wonder when I acquaint you with the beauty of the villa, the advantages of its situation, and the extensive view of the sea-coast. It is only seventeen miles from Rome: so that when I have finished my business in town, I can pass my evenings here after a good satisfactory day's work. There are two different roads to it: if you go by that of Laurentum, you must turn off at the fourteenth mile-stone; if by Astia, at the eleventh. Both of them are sandy in places, which makes it a little heavier and longer by carriage, but short and easy on horseback. The landscape affords plenty of variety, the view in some places being closed in by woods, in others extending over broad meadows, where numerous flocks of sheep and herds of cattle, which the severity of the winter has driven from the mountains, fatten in the spring warmth, and on the rich pasturage. My villa is of a convenient size without being expensive to keep up. The courtyard in front is plain, but not mean, through which you enter porticoes shaped into the form of the letter D, enclosing a small but cheerful area between. These make a capital retreat for bad weather, not only as they are shut in with windows, but particularly as they are sheltered by a projection of the roof. From the middle of these porticoes you pass into a bright pleasant inner court, and out of that into a handsome hall running out towards the sea-shore; so that when there is a south-west breeze, it is gently washed with the waves, which spend themselves at its base. On every side of this hall there are either folding-doors or windows equally large, by which means you have a view from the front and the two sides of three different seas, as it were: from the back you see the middle court, the portico, and the area; and from another point you look through the portico into the courtyard, and out upon the woods and distant mountains beyond. On the left hand of this hall, a little farther from the sea, lies a large drawing-room, and beyond that, a second of a smaller size, which has one window to the rising and another to the setting sun: this as well has a view of the sea, but more distant and agreeable. The angle formed by the projection of the dining-room with this drawing-room retains and intensifies the warmth of the sun, and this forms our winter quarters and family gymnasium, which is sheltered from all the winds except those which bring on clouds, but the clear sky comes out again before the warmth has gone out of the place. Adjoining this angle is a room forming the segment of a circle, the windows of which are so arranged as to get the sun all through the day: in the walls are contrived a sort of cases, containing a collection of authors who can never be read too often. Next to this is a bed-room, connected with it by a raised passage furnished with pipes, which supply, at a wholesome temperature, and distribute to all parts of this room, the heat they receive. The rest of this side of the house is appropriated to the use of my slaves and freedmen; but most of the rooms in it are respectable enough to put my guests into. In the opposite wing is a most elegant, tastefully fitted up bed-room; next to which lies another, which you may call either a large bed-room or a modified dining-room; it is very warm and light, not only from the direct rays of the sun, but by their reflection from the sea. Beyond this is a bed-room with an ante-room, the height of which renders it cool in summer, its thick walls warm in winter, for it is sheltered, every way from the winds. To this apartment another anteroom is joined by one common wall. From thence you enter into the wide and spacious cooling-room belonging to the bath, from the opposite walls of which two curved basins are thrown out, so to speak; which are more than large enough if you consider that the sea is close at hand. Adjacent to this is the anointing-room, then the sweating-room, and beyond that the bath-heating room: adjoining are two other little bath-rooms, elegantly rather than sumptuously fitted up: annexed to them is a warm bath of wonderful construction, in which one can swim and take a view of the sea at the same time. Not far from this stands the tennis-court, which lies open to the warmth of the afternoon sun. From thence you go up a sort of turret which has two rooms below, with the same number above, besides a dining-room commanding a very extensive look-out on to the sea, the coast, and the beautiful villas scattered along the shore line. At the other end is a second turret, containing a room that gets the rising and setting sun. Behind this is a large store-room and granary, and underneath, a spacious dining-room, where only the murmur and break of the sea can be heard, even in a storm: it looks out upon the garden, and the gestatio,[40] running round the garden. The gestatio is bordered round with box, and, where that is decayed, with rosemary: for the box, wherever sheltered by the buildings, grows plentifully, but where it lies open and exposed to the weather and spray from the sea, though at some distance from the latter, it quite withers up. Next the gestatio, and running along inside it, is a shady vine plantation, the path of which is so soft and easy to the tread that you may walk bare-foot upon it. The garden is chiefly planted with fig and mulberry trees, to which this soil is as favourable as it is averse from all others. Here is a dining-room, which, though it stands away from the sea enjoys the garden view which is just as pleasant: two apartments run round the back part of it, the windows of which look out upon the entrance of the villa, and into a fine kitchen-garden. From here extends an enclosed portico which, from its great length, you might take for a public one. It has a range of windows on either side, but more on the side facing the sea, and fewer on the garden side, and these, single windows and alternate with the opposite rows. In calm, clear, weather these are all thrown open; but if it blows, those on the weather side are closed, whilst those away from the wind can remain open without any inconvenience. Before this enclosed portico lies a terrace fragrant with the scent of violets, and warmed by the reflection of the sun from the portico, which, while it retains the rays, keeps away the north-east wind; and it is as warm on this side as it is cool on the side opposite: in the same way it is a protection against the wind from the south-west; and thus, in short, by means of its several sides, breaks the force of the winds, from whatever quarter they may blow. These are some of its winter advantages, they are still more appreciable in the summer time; for at that season it throws a shade upon the terrace during the whole of the forenoon, and upon the adjoining portion of the gestatio and garden in the afternoon, casting a greater or less shade on this side or on that as the day increases or decreases. But the portico itself is coolest just at the time when the sun is at its hottest, that is, when the rays fall directly upon the roof. Also, by opening the windows you let in the western breezes in a free current, which prevents the place getting oppressive with close and stagnant air. At the upper end of the terrace and portico stands a detached garden building, which I call my favourite; my favourite indeed, as I put it up myself. It contains a very warm winter-room, one side of which looks down upon the terrace, while the other has a view of the sea, and both lie exposed to the sun. The bed-room opens on to the covered portico by means of folding-doors, while its window looks out upon the sea. On that side next the sea, and facing the middle wall, is formed a very elegant little recess, which, by means of transparent[41] windows, and a curtain drawn to or aside, can be made part of the adjoining room, or separated from it. It contains a couch and two chairs: as you lie upon this couch, from where your feet are you get a peep of the sea; looking behind you see the neighbouring villas, and from the head you have a view of the woods: these three views may be seen either separately, from so many different windows, or blended together in one. Adjoining this is a bed-room, which neither the servants' voices, the murmuring of the sea, the glare of lightning, nor daylight itself can penetrate, unless you open the windows. This profound tranquillity and seclusion are occasioned by a passage separating the wall of this room from that of the garden, and thus, by means of this intervening space, every noise is drowned. Annexed to this is a tiny stove-room, which, by opening or shutting a little aperture, lets out or retains the heat from underneath, according as you require. Beyond this lie a bed-room and ante-room, which enjoy the sun, though obliquely indeed, from the time it rises, till the afternoon. When I retire to this garden summer-house, I fancy myself a hundred miles away from my villa, and take especial pleasure in it at the feast of the Saturnalia,[42] when, by the licence of that festive season, every other part of my house resounds with my servants' mirth: thus I neither interrupt their amusement nor they my studies. Amongst the pleasures and conveniences of this situation, there is one drawback, and that is, the want of running water; but then there are wells about the place, or rather springs, for they lie close to the surface. And, altogether, the quality of this coast is remarkable; for dig where you may, you meet, upon the first turning up of the ground, with a spring of water, quite pure, not in the least salt, although so near the sea. The neighbouring woods supply us with all the fuel we require, the other necessaries Ostia furnishes. Indeed, to a moderate man, even the village (between which and my house there is only one villa) would supply all ordinary requirements. It has three public baths, which are a great convenience if it happen that friends come in unexpectedly, or make too short a stay to allow time in preparing my own. The whole coast is very pleasantly sprinkled with villas either in rows or detached, which whether looking at them from the sea or the shore, present the appearance of so many different cities. The strand is, sometimes, after a long calm, perfectly smooth, though, in general, through the storms driving the waves upon it, it is rough and uneven. I cannot boast that our sea is plentiful in choice fish; however, it supplies us with capital soles and prawns; but as to other kinds of provisions, my villa aspires to excel even inland countries, particularly in milk: for the cattle come up there from the meadows in large numbers, in pursuit of water and shade. Tell me, now, have I not good reason for living in, staying in, loving, such a retreat, which, if you feel no appetite for, you must be morbidly attached to town? And I only wish you would feel inclined to come down to it, that to so many charms with which my little villa abounds, it might have the very considerable addition of your company to recommend it. Farewell.
You're surprised that I love my Laurentine, or (if you prefer) my Laurens. But you won’t wonder for long once I tell you about the villa's beauty, its great location, and the wide view of the coastline. It's only seventeen miles from Rome, so when I finish my work in town, I can spend my evenings here after a satisfying day. There are two routes to get there: if you take the Laurentum road, you’ll turn off at the fourteenth mile marker; if you take the Astia road, you'll turn at the eleventh. Both paths are sandy in spots, which can make the carriage ride a bit heavier and longer, but it’s a quick and easy ride on horseback. The landscape has plenty of variety, with some areas surrounded by woods, and others opened up to wide meadows, where numerous flocks of sheep and herds of cattle, driven down from the mountains by the harsh winter, thrive in the spring warmth on rich pastures. My villa is a comfortable size without being expensive to maintain. The front courtyard is simple but not shabby, leading to porticoes shaped like the letter D, which enclose a small but cheerful area. These porticoes are great for bad weather, not only because they're enclosed with windows, but also because they’re protected by a roof overhang. From the middle of these porticoes, you enter a bright, pleasant inner courtyard, and from there into a beautiful hall that extends toward the shore; so when there’s a southwest breeze, it's gently kissed by the waves breaking at its base. On every side of this hall, there are either folding doors or equally large windows, giving you a view from the front and both sides of what feels like three different seas. From the back, you see the middle courtyard, the portico, and the open area; and from another angle, you look through the portico into the courtyard and out toward the woods and distant mountains. To the left of this hall, a bit farther from the sea, there's a large drawing room, and beyond that, a smaller one with one window facing the rising sun and another for the setting sun. This room also has a view of the sea, but it's farther away and more pleasant. The angle created by the dining room with this drawing room retains and enhances the sun's warmth, making it our winter space and family gym, well-sheltered from all winds except those that bring clouds, but the clear sky returns before the warmth leaves the room. Right next to this angle is a circular room, its windows arranged to capture sunlight all day. The walls feature a series of cases that hold a collection of authors worth reading over and over. Next to this is a bedroom connected by a raised passage with pipes that supply and distribute warm air throughout the room. The rest of this side of the house is designated for my slaves and freedmen, but most of these rooms are nice enough to accommodate my guests. In the opposite wing is a beautifully decorated bedroom; next to it is another room you could call either a large bedroom or a small dining room; it’s warm and bright, not just from the direct sunlight but also from the reflection off the sea. Beyond this is another bedroom with an ante-room, which stays cool in summer due to its height and has thick walls that retain warmth in winter, as it's protected from the winds. To this apartment, another ante-room is attached by a shared wall. From there you enter a spacious cooling room belonging to the bath, from which two curved basins extend from the opposite walls, more than large enough, especially with the sea nearby. Adjacent to this is the anointing-room, then the sweating room, followed by the bath-heating room; nearby are two smaller bath-rooms, elegantly but not overly lavishly decorated. Attached to them is an amazing warm bath where you can swim and enjoy the sea view at the same time. Not far from this is the tennis court, open to the warmth of the afternoon sun. From there, you can ascend a sort of turret that has two rooms below and two above, along with a dining room offering a stunning view of the sea, the coast, and the beautiful villas scattered along the shoreline. At the other end is a second turret, which has a room that catches both the rising and setting sun. Behind this is a large storage room and granary, and underneath it is a spacious dining room where you can only hear the soft murmur of the sea, even in a storm; it overlooks the garden and the gestatio, running around the garden. The gestatio is surrounded by boxwood, and where that decays, rosemary grows in its place: the boxwood flourishes wherever sheltered by the buildings, but where it's exposed to the weather and spray from the sea, it tends to wither away. Next to the gestatio, there’s a shady vine plantation, with a path so soft and easy to walk on that you can go barefoot. The garden mainly has fig and mulberry trees, which thrive in this soil while other types struggle. There’s a dining room that, though it’s away from the sea, offers a nice view of the garden. Two rooms are off the back of it, with windows facing the villa entrance and a lovely kitchen garden. From here stretches a covered portico that you might mistake for a public one due to its length. It features a series of windows on either side, more on the side facing the sea and fewer on the garden side, with single windows alternating with those on the opposite rows. On calm, clear days, all these windows open up; but if it’s windy, the ones on the windy side close while those on the leeward side can stay open comfortably. Before this enclosed portico lies a terrace, fragrant with violets and warmed by sunlight reflecting off the portico, which retains the heat but keeps out the northeast wind, making it just as warm on this side as it’s cool on the other. It also serves as a barrier against the wind from the southwest; in short, its various sides soften the intensity of the winds regardless of their direction. These are some of its winter advantages, and they are even more appreciated in the summer; during that season, it casts shade on the terrace throughout the morning, and on the adjacent parts of the gestatio and garden in the afternoon, creating more or less shade depending on the time of day. The portico itself stays coolest when the sun is hottest, that is, when the rays hit the roof directly. By opening the windows, a fresh current of western breezes flows in, preventing the space from becoming stale and oppressive. At one end of the terrace and portico is a detached garden building, which I call my favorite; indeed, it's my favorite because I built it myself. It has a cozy winter room, one side looking down on the terrace, while the other offers a view of the sea, both exposed to the sun. The bedroom opens to the covered portico through folding doors, and its window faces the sea. On the side near the sea, facing the middle wall, there's a charming little alcove that can be opened up or separated off thanks to transparent windows and a drawn curtain. It contains a couch and two chairs; as you lay on this couch, you can peek at the sea from your feet; looking back, you see the nearby villas, and from the head, you have a view of the woods: these three scenes can be viewed either separately through different windows or blended together. Next to this is a bedroom that remains undisturbed by the voices of servants, the murmur of the sea, flashes of lightning, or even daylight itself unless the windows are opened. This deep tranquility and seclusion are due to a passage separating the wall of this room from that of the garden, which, by providing this buffer space, drowns out all noise. Attached to this is a small stove room, which allows you to adjust the heat by opening or closing a small vent, depending on your needs. Beyond that, there’s a bedroom and ante-room that enjoy the sun, albeit at an angle, from sunrise until the afternoon. When I retreat to this garden summer house, I feel like I’m a hundred miles from my villa, and I especially enjoy it during the Saturnalia, when, due to the festive season’s liberty, every other part of my house is filled with my servants' laughter: this way, I don’t disrupt their fun nor do they interfere with my studies. Among the pleasures and conveniences of this place, there is one drawback: the lack of running water. But there are wells nearby, or rather springs, since they lie close to the surface. Overall, the quality of this coast is impressive; wherever you dig, you find a clean spring of water, completely fresh, not salty, even though it's so close to the sea. The nearby woods provide all the fuel we need, while Ostia delivers the other essentials. In fact, for a moderate person, even the village (between which and my house there is only one villa) would cover all ordinary needs. It has three public baths, which are quite handy if friends drop by unexpectedly or stay too briefly for me to prepare my own. The entire coast is pleasantly dotted with villas, either in rows or standalone, which, whether viewed from the sea or shore, look like many different towns. The beach is, at times, perfectly smooth after a long calm, but generally, due to storms crashing waves upon it, it's rough and uneven. I can’t say that our sea is brimming with various fish; however, it does provide us with excellent soles and prawns. In terms of other provisions, my villa actually aims to excel even inland areas, especially in milk: herds come down from the meadows in large numbers in search of water and shade. Now tell me, don’t I have every reason to live in, stay in, and cherish such a retreat? If you don't feel attracted to it, you must be overly attached to the city. I only wish you would consider coming down; the many charms of my little villa would be even better with your company. Farewell.
XXIV — To CEREALIS
You advise me to read my late speech before an assemblage of my friends. I shall do so, as you advise it, though I have strong scruples. Compositions of this sort lose, I well know, all their force and fire, and even their very name almost, by a mere recital. It is the solemnity of the tribunal, the concourse of advocates, the suspense of the event, the fame of the several pleaders concerned, the different parties formed amongst the audience; add to this the gestures, the pacing, aye the actual running, to and fro, of the speaker, the body working[43] in harmony with every inward emotion, that conspire to give a spirit and a grace to what he delivers. This is the reason that those who plead sitting, though they retain most of the advantages possessed by those who stand up to plead, weaken the whole force of their oratory. The eyes and hands of the reader, those important instruments of graceful elocution, being engaged, it is no wonder that the attention of the audience droops, without anything extrinsic to keep it up, no allurements of gesture to attract, no smart, stinging impromptus to enliven. To these general considerations I must add this particular disadvantage which attends the speech in question, that it is of the argumentative kind; and it is natural for an author to infer that what he wrote with labour will not be read with pleasure. For who is there so unprejudiced as not to prefer the attractive and sonorous to the sombre and unornamented in style? It is very unreasonable that there should be any distinction; however, it is certain the judges generally expect one style of pleading, and the audience another; whereas an auditor ought to be affected only by those parts which would especially strike him, were he in the place of the judge. Nevertheless it is possible the objections which lie against this piece may be surmounted in consideration of the novelty it has to recommend it: the novelty I mean with respect to us; for the Greek orators have a method of reasoning upon a different occasion, not altogether unlike that which I have employed. They, when they would throw out a law, as contrary to some former one unrepealed, argue by comparing those together; so I, on the contrary, endeavour to prove that the crime, which I was insisting upon as falling within the intent and meaning of the law relating to public extortions, was agreeable, not only to that law, but likewise to other laws of the same nature. Those who are ignorant of the jurisprudence of their country can have no taste for reasonings of this kind, but those who are not ought to be proportionably the more favourable in the judgments they pass upon them. I shall endeavour, therefore, if you persist in my reciting it, to collect as learned an audience as I can. But before you determine this point, do weigh impartially the different considerations I have laid before you, and then decide as reason shall direct; for it is reason that must justify you; obedience to your commands will be a sufficient apology for me. Farewell.
You want me to read my recent speech in front of my friends. I’ll do that, as you suggest, but I have some serious reservations. I know that pieces like this lose all their impact just by being read aloud. It’s the atmosphere of the court, the gathering of lawyers, the tension of the event, the reputations of the various speakers, the different groups formed among the audience; plus the gestures, the pacing, even the actual running back and forth of the speaker, their body moving in sync with every emotion inside, all contribute to giving life and style to what they say. This is why people who speak while sitting, even though they still have most of the advantages of those who stand, weaken the overall impact of their speech. The reader’s eyes and hands—key tools for effective speaking—are occupied, so it’s no surprise the audience’s attention fades without anything external to keep it engaged, no gestures to catch their eye, no sharp, witty replies to liven things up. Moreover, I must mention this specific drawback of the speech I’m considering, which is that it’s argumentative; it’s only natural for a writer to assume that what took effort to craft won't be enjoyable to listen to. Who doesn’t prefer something appealing and rhythmic over something dull and plain? It’s quite unreasonable to make a distinction, yet judges usually expect one style of argument while the audience anticipates another; the listener should ideally be moved by the same elements that would strike them if they were in the judge's position. Still, it’s possible that the criticisms against this speech might be overlooked because of its novelty—a novelty, I mean, that’s unique to us; Greek speakers have a different reasoning style, somewhat like mine. They argue by comparing laws when trying to dismiss one as contradictory to an existing law. In contrast, I aim to show that the crime I’m discussing aligns not only with the law on public extortion but also with other similar laws. Those unfamiliar with their country's legal system often can’t appreciate this kind of reasoning, but those who are should be more inclined to judge it favorably. So, if you insist on my delivering it, I’ll try to gather as knowledgeable an audience as I can. But before you make a final decision, please consider fairly the various points I’ve presented, and then let reason guide your choice; because it’s reason that must justify you. Following your instructions will be enough of an excuse for me. Goodbye.
XXV — To CALVISIUS
GIVE me a penny, and I will tell you a story "worth gold," or, rather, you shall hear two or three; for one brings to my mind another. It makes no difference with which I begin. Verania, the widow of Piso, the Piso, I mean, whom Galba adopted, lay extremely ill, and Regulus paid her a visit. By the way, mark the assurance of the man, visiting a lady who detested him herself, and to whose husband he was a declared enemy! Even barely to enter her house would have been bad enough, but he actually went and seated himself by her bed-side and began enquiring on what day and hour she was born. Being informed of these important particulars, he composes his countenance, fixes his eyes, mutters something to himself, counts upon his fingers, and all this merely to keep the poor sick lady in suspense. When he had finished, "You are," he says, "in one of your climacterics; however, you will get over it. But for your greater satisfaction, I will consult with a certain diviner, whose skill I have frequently experienced." Accordingly off he goes, performs a sacrifice, and returns with the strongest assurances that the omens confirmed what he had promised on the part of the stars. Upon this the good woman, whose danger made her credulous, calls for her will and gives Regulus a legacy. She grew worse shortly after this; and in her last moments exclaimed against this wicked, treacherous, and worse than perjured wretch, who had sworn falsely to her by his own son's life. But imprecations of this sort are as common with Regulus as they are impious; and he continually devotes that unhappy youth to the curse of those gods whose vengeance his own frauds every day provoke.
GIVE me a penny, and I’ll tell you a story “worth gold,” or rather, you’ll hear two or three, since one reminds me of another. It doesn’t matter where I start. Verania, the widow of Piso—yes, the Piso whom Galba adopted—was quite ill, and Regulus paid her a visit. Just note the nerve of the guy, visiting a woman who absolutely detested him and whose husband he was openly against! Even just stepping into her house would have been bad enough, but he actually went and sat by her bedside, asking about the day and time she was born. Once he got these important details, he straightened his face, focused his eyes, mumbled to himself, counted on his fingers, all just to keep the poor sick lady in suspense. When he was done, he said, “You are in one of your climacterics; however, you’ll get through this. But to put your mind at ease, I’ll consult a certain diviner whose skills I’ve often relied on.” So he took off, made a sacrifice, and came back with the strongest assurances that the omens confirmed what he had promised regarding the stars. This good woman, feeling desperate because of her illness, called for her will and left Regulus a legacy. She got worse shortly after, and in her last moments, she cursed this wicked, treacherous man, who had sworn to her falsely by his own son’s life. But curses of this kind are as common for Regulus as they are blasphemous; he continually dedicates that unfortunate youth to the wrath of those gods whose vengeance his own deceit provokes every day.
Velleius Blaesus, a man of consular rank, and remarkable for his immense wealth, in his last illness was anxious to make some alterations in his will. Regulus, who had lately endeavoured to insinuate himself into his good graces, hoped to get something from the new will, and accordingly addresses himself to his physicians, and conjures them to exert all their skill to prolong the poor man's life. But after the will was signed, he changes his character, reversing his tone: "How long," says he to these very same physicians, "do you intend keeping this man in misery? Since you cannot preserve his life, why do you grudge him the happy release of death?" Blaesus dies, and, as if he had overheard every word that Regulus had said, has not left him one farthing.—And now have you had enough? or are you for the third, according to rhetorical canon? If so, Regulus will supply you. You must know, then, that Aurelia, a lady of remarkable accomplishments, purposing to execute her will,[44] had put on her smartest dress for the occasion. Regulus, who was present as a witness, turned to the lady, and "Pray," says he, "leave me these fine clothes." Aurelia thought the man was joking: but he insisted upon it perfectly seriously, and, to be brief, obliged her to open her will, and insert the dress she had on as a legacy to him, watching as she wrote, and then looking over it to see that it was all down correctly. Aurelia, however, is still alive: though Regulus, no doubt, when he solicited this bequest, expected to enjoy it pretty soon. The fellow gets estates, he gets legacies, conferred upon him, as if he really deserved them! But why should I go on dwelling upon this in a city where wickedness and knavery have, for this time past, received, the same, do I say, nay, even greater encouragement, than modesty and virtue? Regulus is a glaring instance of this truth, who, from a state of poverty, has by a train of villainies acquired such immense riches that he once told me, upon consulting the omens to know how soon he should be worth sixty millions of sesterces,[45] he found them so favourable as to portend he should possess double that sum. And possibly he may, if he continues to dictate wills for other people in this way: a sort of fraud, in my opinion, the most infamous of any. Farewell.
Velleius Blaesus, a man of high rank and known for his vast wealth, was eager to make some changes to his will during his last illness. Regulus, who had recently tried to get on his good side, hoped to benefit from the new will, so he approached the doctors and urged them to do everything they could to keep the poor man alive. But once the will was signed, he switched his attitude entirely, asking the same doctors, "How long are you planning to keep this man in suffering? Since you can’t save his life, why not let him have the relief of death?" Blaesus dies, and it’s as if he heard every word Regulus said, leaving him nothing. Now, are you satisfied, or would you like to hear more, as per the rules of rhetoric? If so, Regulus can provide it. You should know that Aurelia, a woman of notable skills, aiming to finalize her will, had dressed in her finest for the occasion. Regulus, who was there as a witness, turned to her and said, "Please, leave me those nice clothes." Aurelia thought he was kidding, but he insisted very seriously and, to keep it short, forced her to open her will and add her dress as a gift to him, watching as she wrote and making sure it was all correct. However, Aurelia is still alive, although Regulus surely expected to enjoy that gift soon. The guy gets estates and legacies handed to him as if he truly deserved them! But why should I keep going on about this in a city where wrongdoing and deceit have, for some time now, received just as much, if not more, support than dignity and virtue? Regulus is a glaring example of this truth; he has gone from poverty to amassing such immense wealth through a series of dishonest acts that he once told me, when consulting omens to see how soon he would be worth sixty million sesterces, he found the signs so favorable they suggested he would have double that amount. And maybe he will, if he continues to dictate wills for others in this manner, which I consider one of the most despicable forms of fraud. Goodbye.
XXVI — To CALVISIUS
I NEVER, I think, spent any time more agreeably than my time lately with Spurinna. So agreeably, indeed, that if ever I should arrive at old age, there is no man whom I would sooner choose for my model, for nothing can be more perfect in arrangement than his mode of life. I look upon order in human actions, especially at that advanced age, with the same sort of pleasure as I behold the settled course of the heavenly bodies. In young men, indeed, a little confusion and disarrangement is all well enough: but in age, when business is unseasonable, and ambition indecent, all should be composed and uniform. This rule Spurinna observes with the most religious consistency. Even in those matters which one might call insignificant, were they not of every-day occurrence, he observes a certain periodical season and method. The early morning he passes on his couch; at eight he calls for his slippers, and walks three miles, exercising mind and body together. On his return, if he has any friends in the house with him, he gets upon some entertaining and interesting topic of conversation; if by himself, some book is read to him, sometimes when visitors are there even, if agreeable to the company. Then he has a rest, and after that either takes up a book or resumes his conversation in preference to reading. By-and-by he goes out for a drive in his carriage, either with his wife, a most admirable woman, or with some friend: a happiness which lately was mine.—How agreeable, how delightful it is getting a quiet time alone with him in this way! You could imagine you were listening to some worthy of ancient times! What deeds, what men you hear about, and with what noble precepts you are imbued! Yet all delivered with so modest an air that there is not the least appearance of dictating. When he has gone about seven miles, he gets out of his chariot and walks a mile more, after which he returns home, and either takes a rest or goes back to his couch and writing. For he composes most elegant lyrics both in Greek and Latin. So wonderfully soft, sweet, and gay they are, while the author's own unsullied life lends them additional charm. When the baths are ready, which in winter is about three o'clock, and in summer about two, he undresses himself and, if there happen to be no wind, walks for some time in the sun. After this he has a good brisk game of tennis: for by this sort of exercise too, he combats the effects of old age. When he has bathed, he throws himself upon his couch, but waits a little before he begins eating, and in the meanwhile has some light and entertaining author read to him. In this, as in all the rest, his friends are at full liberty to share; or to employ themselves in any other way, just as they prefer. You sit down to an elegant dinner, without extravagant display, which is served up in antique plate of pure silver. He has another complete service in Corinthian metal, which, though he admires as a curiosity, is far from being his passion. During dinner he is frequently entertained with the recital of some dramatic piece, by way of seasoning his very pleasures with study; and although he continues at the table, even in summer, till the night is somewhat advanced, yet he prolongs the entertainment with so much affability and politeness that none of his guests ever finds it tedious. By this method of living he has preserved all his senses entire, and his body vigorous and active to his seventy-eighth year, without showing any sign of old age except wisdom. This is the sort of life I ardently aspire after; as I purpose enjoying it when I shall arrive at those years which will justify a retreat from active life. Meanwhile I am embarrassed with a thousand affairs, in which Spurinna is at once my support and my example: for he too, so long as it became him, discharged his professional duties, held magistracies, governed provinces, and by toiling hard earned the repose he now enjoys. I propose to myself the same career and the same limits: and I here give it to you under my hand that I do so. If an ill-timed ambition should carry me beyond those bounds, produce this very letter of mine in court against me; and condemn me to repose, whenever I enjoy it without being reproached with indolence. Farewell.
I don't think I've ever spent time more pleasantly than my recent time with Spurinna. It was so enjoyable that if I reach old age, he's the person I would want to model my life after, because his way of living is incredibly well-structured. I find great pleasure in observing order in human actions, especially at an older age, similar to how I appreciate the predictable paths of celestial bodies. A bit of chaos is fine for young people, but as we age, when ambition is inappropriate and being busy feels out of place, everything should be calm and orderly. Spurinna follows this principle with admirable consistency. Even in what some might see as trivial daily matters, he maintains a regular schedule and method. He spends the early morning on his couch, then at eight, he requests his slippers and walks three miles, exercising both his mind and body. Upon returning, if he has friends over, he engages them in entertaining conversations; if he's alone, he has someone read to him, sometimes even when guests are present if it suits the group. Then he takes a break and afterward either reads a book or continues his discussions instead of reading. Afterward, he goes out for a drive in his carriage, whether with his wife, an exceptional woman, or a friend, which I've had the pleasure of recently experiencing. How nice and delightful it is to spend quiet moments with him like this! You might think you were listening to a wise figure from ancient times! The stories and descriptions of remarkable people you hear are filled with noble lessons! And it's all shared with such humility that there's no hint of lecturing. After about seven miles, he gets out of the carriage and walks another mile before returning home, where he either rests or goes back to his couch to write. He composes beautifully elegant poems in both Greek and Latin. They are wonderfully soft, sweet, and cheerful, and the purity of his life only adds to their charm. When the baths are ready, around three o'clock in winter and two in summer, he undresses and, if there’s no wind, walks in the sun for a while. Then he enjoys a good game of tennis, which helps him counteract the effects of aging. After his bath, he relaxes on his couch, waiting a bit before starting to eat while someone reads to him from a light, entertaining author. His friends are always welcome to join in or occupy themselves however they like. Dinner is served elegantly, without extravagance, on pure silver antique plates. He also has a full set of Corinthian metalware, which he admires as a curiosity but isn't particularly passionate about. During dinner, he's often entertained with readings from dramatic works, adding an element of study to his enjoyment. Even though he remains at the table until quite late in the summer, he keeps the mood so friendly and polite that his guests never find it tedious. Through this way of living, he has kept all his senses intact, and his body strong and active into his seventy-eighth year, showing no signs of aging except wisdom. This is the life I fervently aspire to live as I hope to enjoy it when I reach an age that justifies stepping back from active life. For now, I'm tied up with countless responsibilities, where Spurinna serves as my support and example. He too, until it was appropriate for him to do so, fulfilled his professional duties, held public offices, governed provinces, and worked hard to earn the peace he now enjoys. I plan to follow the same path and set similar limits for myself, and I’m officially stating that here. If misguided ambition pushes me past these boundaries, use this very letter against me in court; and condemn me to rest whenever I enjoy it without being accused of laziness. Take care.
XXVII — To BAEBIUS MACER
IT gives me great pleasure to find you such a reader of my uncle's works as to wish to have a complete collection of them, and to ask me for the names of them all. I will act as index then, and you shall know the very order in which they were written, for the studious reader likes to know this. The first work of his was a treatise in one volume, "On the Use of the Dart by Cavalry"; this he wrote when in command of one of the cavalry corps of our allied troops, and is drawn up with great care and ingenuity. "The Life of Pomponius Secundus,"[46] in two volumes. Pomponius had a great affection for him, and he thought he owed this tribute to his memory. "The History of the Wars in Germany," in twenty books, in which he gave an account of all the battles we were engaged in against that nation. A dream he had while serving in the army in Germany first suggested the design of this work to him. He imagined that Drusus Nero[47] (who extended his conquest very far into that country, and there lost his life) appeared to him in his sleep, and entreated him to rescue his memory from oblivion. Next comes a work entitled "The Student," in three parts, which from their length spread into six volumes: a work in which is discussed the earliest training and subsequent education of the orator. "Questions of Grammar and Style," in eight books, written in the latter part of Nero's reign, when the tyranny of the times made it dangerous to engage in literary pursuits requiring freedom and elevation of tone. He has completed the history which Aufidius Bassus[48] left unfinished, and has added to it thirty books. And lastly he has left thirty-seven books on Natural History, a work of great compass and learning, and as full of variety as nature herself. You will wonder how a man as busy as he was could find time to compose so many books, and some of them too involving such care and labour. But you will be still more surprised when you hear that he pleaded at the bar for some time, that he died in his sixty-sixth year, that the intervening time was employed partly in the execution of the highest official duties, partly in attendance upon those emperors who honoured him with their friendship. But he had a quick apprehension, marvellous power of application, and was of an exceedingly wakeful temperament. He always began to study at midnight at the time of the feast of Vulcan, not for the sake of good luck, but for learning's sake; in winter generally at one in the morning, but never later than two, and often at twelve.[49] He was a most ready sleeper, insomuch that he would sometimes, whilst in the midst of his studies, fall off and then wake up again. Before day-break he used to wait upon Vespasian' (who also used his nights for transacting business in), and then proceed to execute the orders he had received. As soon as he returned home, he gave what time was left to study. After a short and light refreshment at noon (agreeably to the good old custom of our ancestors) he would frequently in the summer, if he was disengaged from business, lie down and bask in the sun; during which time some author was read to him, while he took notes and made extracts, for every book he read he made extracts out of, indeed it was a maxim of his, that "no book was so bad but some good might be got out of it." When this was over, he generally took a cold bath, then some light refreshment and a little nap. After this, as if it had been a new day, he studied till supper-time, when a book was again read to him, which he would take down running notes upon. I remember once his reader having mis-pronounced a word, one of my uncle's friends at the table made him go back to where the word was and repeat it again; upon which my uncle said to his friend, "Surely you understood it?" Upon his acknowledging that he did, "Why then," said he, "did you make him go back again? We have lost more than ten lines by this interruption." Such an economist he was of time! In the summer he used to rise from supper at daylight, and in winter as soon as it was dark: a rule he observed as strictly as if it had been a law of the state. Such was his manner of life amid the bustle and turmoil of the town: but in the country his whole time was devoted to study, excepting only when he bathed. In this exception I include no more than the time during which he was actually in the bath; for all the while he was being rubbed and wiped, he was employed either in hearing some book read to him or in dictating himself. In going about anywhere, as though he were disengaged from all other business, he applied his mind wholly to that single pursuit. A shorthand writer constantly attended him, with book and tablets, who, in the winter, wore a particular sort of warm gloves, that the sharpness of the weather might not occasion any interruption to my uncle's studies: and for the same reason, when in Rome, he was always carried in a chair. I recollect his once taking me to task for walking. "You need not," he said, "lose these hours." For he thought every hour gone that was not given to study. Through this extraordinary application he found time to compose the several treatises I have mentioned, besides one hundred and sixty volumes of extracts which he left me in his will, consisting of a kind of common-place, written on both sides, in very small hand, so that one might fairly reckon the number considerably more. He used himself to tell us that when he was comptroller of the revenue in Spain, he could have sold these manuscripts to Largius Licinus for four hundred thousand sesterces,[50] and then there were not so many of them. When you consider the books he has read, and the volumes he has written, are you not inclined to suspect that he never was engaged in public duties or was ever in the confidence of his prince? On the other hand, when you are told how indefatigable he was in his studies, are you not inclined to wonder that he read and wrote no more than he did? For, on one side, what obstacles would not the business of a court throw in his way? and on the other, what is it that such intense application might not effect? It amuses me then when I hear myself called a studious man, who in comparison with him am the merest idler. But why do I mention myself, who am diverted from these pursuits by numberless affairs both public and private? Who amongst those whose whole lives are devoted to literary pursuits would not blush and feel himself the most confirmed of sluggards by the side of him? I see I have run out my letter farther than I had originally intended, which was only to let you know, as you asked me, what works he had left behind him. But I trust this will be no less acceptable to you than the books themselves, as it may, possibly, not only excite your curiosity to read his works, but also your emulation to copy his example, by some attempts of a similar nature. Farewell.
IT gives me great pleasure to find that you are such a fan of my uncle's works that you want to have a complete collection of them and are asking me for the names of all of them. I’ll serve as your index, so you can know exactly the order in which they were written, as dedicated readers like to know this. His first work was a single-volume treatise, "On the Use of the Dart by Cavalry"; he wrote this while commanding one of the cavalry units in our allied forces and it was prepared with great care and creativity. Then there’s "The Life of Pomponius Secundus,"[46] in two volumes. Pomponius had a deep fondness for him, and he believed he owed this tribute to his memory. "The History of the Wars in Germany," in twenty books, gives an account of all the battles we fought against that nation. The idea for this work came to him in a dream while he was serving in the army in Germany. He dreamed that Drusus Nero[47] (who expanded his conquest deep into that territory and lost his life there) appeared to him in his sleep and urged him to preserve his memory from being forgotten. Next is a work called "The Student," in three parts, which expanded into six volumes due to their length: a discussion on the early training and further education of the orator. "Questions of Grammar and Style," in eight books, was written during the later part of Nero's reign when the tyranny of the time made it risky to engage in literary pursuits that required freedom and an elevated tone. He completed the history that Aufidius Bassus[48] left unfinished and added thirty volumes to it. Finally, he left behind thirty-seven books on Natural History, a work extensive in scope and knowledge, filled with as much variety as nature itself. You may wonder how a man as busy as he was found time to write so many books, especially some that required such careful effort. But you will be even more surprised to learn that he practiced law for a time, that he died at sixty-six, and that the time in between was spent partly fulfilling high official duties and partly in the company of the emperors who valued his friendship. However, he had a quick understanding, remarkable focus, and was incredibly alert. He always began his studies at midnight, especially during the feast of Vulcan, not for luck, but for the sake of learning; in winter, he usually started at one in the morning, but never later than two, and often at twelve.[49] He was a surprisingly fast sleeper, sometimes falling asleep in the middle of his studies and waking up again. Before dawn, he would attend to Vespasian (who also used his nights for business) and then carry out the orders he had received. Once he returned home, he dedicated whatever time remained to study. After a light refreshment at noon, in line with the good old customs of our ancestors, he would often, if free from business in the summer, lie down and bask in the sun; during this time, an author would read to him while he took notes and made extracts, as he extracted information from every book he read. It was indeed his principle that "no book is so bad that some good cannot be obtained from it." Once finished, he would typically take a cold bath, followed by a light snack and a quick nap. Then, as if it were a new day, he would study until dinner, where another book was read to him, and he would jot down notes as it went. I remember once, when his reader mispronounced a word, one of my uncle's friends at the table made him go back to where the word was and repeat it. My uncle said to his friend, "Surely you understood it?" When his friend admitted that he did, my uncle replied, "Then why did you make him go back? We've lost more than ten lines by this interruption." Such an efficient use of time he had! In summer, he would rise from supper at dawn, and in winter, as soon as it grew dark; this was a rule he followed as strictly as if it were a law of the state. This was how he lived amidst the hustle and bustle of the city; however, in the countryside, he devoted all his time to study, except for when he bathed. This exception only includes the time he was actually in the bath; during the time he was being scrubbed down, he was either listening to a book read to him or dictating. While going about, as if he had no other business, he focused entirely on that single pursuit. A shorthand writer was always with him, armed with a book and tablets, who, in winter, wore special warm gloves to ensure that the cold did not interfere with my uncle's studies. For the same reason, when in Rome, he was always carried in a chair. I recall him once chastising me for walking. "You shouldn’t waste these hours," he said. He believed that every hour lost that wasn’t spent on study was a missed opportunity. Through this extreme dedication, he managed to write the various treatises I have mentioned, in addition to one hundred sixty volumes of extracts that he left for me in his will, which were essentially a kind of commonplace book, written on both sides in tiny handwriting, so one might fairly estimate the number to be much greater. He often told us that when he was the revenue controller in Spain, he could have sold these manuscripts to Largius Licinus for four hundred thousand sesterces,[50] even then, there were not so many of them. When you consider the books he has read and the volumes he has written, don’t you feel inclined to think he was never engaged in public duties or was ever in his prince’s confidence? Yet, when you hear about how tireless he was in his studies, don’t you also wonder how he didn’t read and write even more? On one hand, what obstacles wouldn’t court business present? And on the other hand, what could such intense dedication not achieve? It amuses me when I hear myself called studious compared to him, where I am practically lazy. But why mention myself, when I am distracted from these pursuits by countless public and private matters? Who among those fully devoted to literature wouldn’t feel embarrassed and see themselves as the most confirmed sluggard next to him? I realize I’ve gone on longer than I initially intended, which was just to let you know, as you asked, what works he left behind. But I hope this information is just as appreciated by you as the books themselves, as it might not only spark your curiosity to read his works but also inspire you to emulate his example through similar attempts. Farewell.
XXVIII — To ANNIUS SEVERUS
I HAVE lately purchased with a legacy that was left me a small statue of Corinthian brass. It is small indeed, but elegant and life-like, as far as I can form any judgment, which most certainly in matters of this sort, as perhaps in all others, is extremely defective. However, I do see the beauties of this figure: for, as it is naked the faults, if there be any, as well as the perfections, are the more observable. It represents an old man, in an erect attitude. The bones, muscles, veins, and the very wrinkles, give the Impression of breathing life. The hair is thin and failing, the forehead broad, the face shrivelled, the throat lank, the arms loose and hanging, the breast shrunken, and the belly fallen in, as the whole turn and air of the figure behind too is equally expressive of old age. It appears to be true antique, judging from the colour of the brass. In short, it is such a masterpiece as would strike the eyes of a connoisseur, and which cannot fail to charm an ordinary observer: and this induced me, who am an absolute novice in this art, to buy it. But I did so, not with any intention of placing it in my own house (for I have nothing of the kind there), but with a design of fixing it in some conspicuous place in my native province; I should like it best in the temple of Jupiter, for it is a gift well worthy of a temple, well worthy of a god. I desire therefore you would, with that care with which you always perform my requests, undertake this commission and give immediate orders for a pedestal to be made for it, out of what marble you please, but let my name be engraved upon it, and, if you think proper to add these as well, my titles. I will send the statue by the first person I can find who will not mind the trouble of it; or possibly (which I am sure you will like better) I may myself bring it along with me: for I intend, if business can spare me that is to say, to make an excursion over to you. I see joy in your looks when I promise to come; but you will soon change your countenance when I add, only for a few days: for the same business that at present keeps me here will prevent my making a longer stay. Farewell.
I recently bought a small statue made of Corinthian brass with an inheritance I received. It’s small, but it’s elegant and lifelike, at least as much as I can judge, which is likely flawed, as it is with most things. Still, I can see the beauty of this figure: since it’s naked, any flaws are just as noticeable as the strengths. It depicts an old man standing upright. The bones, muscles, veins, and wrinkles give the impression of someone who is alive. The hair is thin and sparse, the forehead is broad, the face is wrinkled, the throat is thin, the arms hang loosely, the chest is sunken, and the belly is drawn in, with the entire form reflecting old age. It looks genuinely antique, based on the brass's color. In short, it’s a masterpiece that would catch the eye of any expert and charm anyone else who sees it. This motivated me, someone who knows very little about this art, to buy it. However, I don’t intend to keep it in my house (since I don’t have anything like that there) but rather to display it in a prominent place in my hometown. I would prefer it in the temple of Jupiter because it is a gift truly worthy of a temple and a god. So, I kindly ask you, with the same care you always show in my requests, to take on this task and give immediate orders to make a pedestal for it, using any marble you choose, but please have my name engraved on it, and if you think it's appropriate, my titles as well. I will send the statue with the first person I find who doesn’t mind the trouble; or, if you prefer (which I’m sure you will), I might bring it myself: I plan to visit you soon, business permitting. I can see the joy on your face when I say I'll come, but you’ll soon change your expression when I add that it will only be for a few days: the same business keeping me here will prevent me from staying longer. Farewell.
XXIX — To CANINIUS RUFUS
I HAVE just been informed that Silius Italicus[51] has starved himself to death, at his villa near Naples. Ill-health was the cause. Being troubled with an incurable cancerous humour, he grew weary of life and therefore put an end to it with a determination not to be moved. He had been extremely fortunate all through his life with the exception of the death of the younger of his two sons; however, he has left behind him the elder and the worthier man of the two in a position of distinction, having even attained consular rank. His reputation had suffered a little in Nero's time, as he was suspected of having officiously joined in some of the informations in that reign; but he used his interest with Vitellius, with great discretion and humanity. He acquired considerable honour by his administration of the government of Asia, and, by his good conduct after his retirement from business, cleared his character from that stain which his former public exertions had thrown upon it. He lived as a private nobleman, without power, and consequently without envy. Though he was frequently confined to his bed, and always to his room, yet he was highly respected, and much visited; not with an interested view, but on his own account. He employed his time between conversing with literary men and composing verses; which he sometimes read out, by way of testing the public opinion: but they evidence more industry than genius. In the decline of his years he entirely quitted Rome, and lived altogether in Campania, from whence even the accession of the new emperor[52] could not draw him. A circumstance which I mention as much to the honour of Cæsar, who was not displeased with that liberty, as of Italicus, who was not afraid to make use of it. He was reproached with indulging his taste for the fine arts at an immoderate expense. He had several villas in the same province, and the last purchase was always the especial favourite, to the neglect of all the rest, These residences overflowed with books, statues, and pictures, which he more than enjoyed, he even adored; particularly that of Virgil, of whom he was so passionate an admirer that he celebrated the anniversary of that poet's birthday with more solemnity than his own, at Naples especially where he used to approach his tomb as if it had been a temple. In this tranquillity he passed his seventy-fifth year, with a delicate rather than an infirm constitution.
I just found out that Silius Italicus has starved himself to death at his villa near Naples. His health was failing due to an incurable cancer, and he grew tired of life, deciding to end it on his own terms. Throughout his life, he had been very fortunate, except for the death of his younger son; however, he left behind his elder son, who is distinguished and has even reached consular rank. His reputation took a bit of a hit during Nero's rule, as he was suspected of getting involved in some informant activities back then; but he managed his connections with Vitellius wisely and humanely. He earned significant respect during his time as the governor of Asia, and by behaving well after retiring, he cleared any tarnish on his character from his earlier political endeavors. He lived as a private nobleman, without any power and, therefore, without envy. Although he was often stuck in bed and always in his room, he was highly respected and received many visitors, not out of self-interest, but genuinely for him. He spent his time talking with literary figures and writing poetry, which he sometimes shared to gauge public opinion, but it showed more effort than true talent. In his later years, he completely left Rome and settled in Campania, from where even the rise of the new emperor could not lure him back. I mention this as a mark of honor for Caesar, who didn’t mind that freedom, as well as for Italicus, who wasn’t afraid to embrace it. He was criticized for excessively indulging in the fine arts. He had several villas in the same region, and the last one he purchased was always his favorite, often at the expense of the others. These homes were filled with books, statues, and artworks, which he didn’t just enjoy but adored, especially Virgil’s works. He admired Virgil so much that he celebrated the anniversary of the poet’s birthday more solemnly than his own, particularly in Naples, where he would visit Virgil’s tomb as if it were a temple. In this peaceful way, he spent his seventy-fifth year, with a fragile rather than a weak constitution.
As he was the last person upon whom Nero conferred the consular office, so he was the last survivor of all those who had been raised by him to that dignity. It is also remarkable that, as he was the last to die of Nero's consuls, so Nero died when he was consul. Recollecting this, a feeling of pity for the transitory condition of mankind comes over me. Is there anything in nature so short and limited as human life, even at its longest? Does it not seem to you but yesterday that Nero was alive? And yet not one of all those who were consuls in his reign now remains! Though why should I wonder at this? Lucius Piso (the father of that Piso who was so infamously assassinated by Valerius Festus in Africa) used to say, he did not see one person in the senate whose opinion he had consulted when he was consul: in so short a space is the very term of life of such a multitude of beings comprised! so that to me those royal tears seem not only worthy of pardon but of praise. For it is said that Xerxes, on surveying his immense army, wept at the reflection that so many thousand lives would in such a short space of time be extinct. The more ardent therefore should be our zeal to lengthen out this frail and transient portion of existence, if not by our deeds (for the opportunities of this are not in our power) yet certainly by our literary accomplishments; and since long life is denied us, let us transmit to posterity some memorial that we have at least LIVED. I well know you need no incitements, but the warmth of my affection for you inclines me to urge you on in the course you are already pursuing, just as you have so often urged me. "Happy rivalry" when two friends strive in this way which of them shall animate the other most in their mutual pursuit of immortal fame. Farewell.
As he was the last person Nero appointed to the consular office, he was also the last survivor of all those who had achieved that position under Nero. It's noteworthy that he was the final one to die among Nero's consuls, and Nero himself died while he was still consul. Remembering this, I feel a sense of sorrow for the fleeting nature of human existence. Is there anything in nature as brief and limited as human life, even at its longest? Doesn’t it feel like just yesterday that Nero was alive? Yet none of the consuls from his reign are still around! But why should I be surprised? Lucius Piso (the father of the Piso who was infamously assassinated by Valerius Festus in Africa) used to say that he couldn’t find anyone in the senate whose opinion he had consulted when he was consul: in such a short time, so many lives have passed! So, those royal tears seem not only forgivable but admirable. It's said that Xerxes, looking over his vast army, wept at the thought of so many thousand lives being extinguished in such a brief time. Therefore, our determination to extend this fragile and fleeting part of existence should be even stronger. If not through our actions (since we can't control those opportunities), then certainly through our literary achievements; and since long life is denied to us, let’s leave behind some legacy that shows we have at least LIVED. I know you don't need any reminders, but my affection for you makes me want to encourage you in the path you're already on, just as you’ve often encouraged me. "Happy rivalry" when two friends inspire each other to strive for mutual immortal fame. Take care.
XXX — To SPURINNA AND COTTIA[53]
I DID not tell you, when I paid you my last visit, that I had composed something in praise of your son; because, in the first place, I wrote it not for the sake of talking about my performance, but simply to satisfy my affection, to console my sorrow for the loss of him. Again, as you told me, my dear Spurinna, that you had heard I had been reciting a piece of mine, I imagined you had also heard at the same time what was the subject of the recital, and besides I was afraid of casting a gloom over your cheerfulness in that festive season, by reviving the remembrance of that heavy sorrow. And even now I have hesitated a little whether I should gratify you both, in your joint request, by sending only what I recited, or add to it what I am thinking of keeping back for another essay. It does not satisfy my feelings to devote only one little tract to a memory so dear and sacred to me, and it seemed also more to the interest of his fame to have it thus disseminated by separate pieces. But the consideration, that it will be more open and friendly to send you the whole now, rather than keep back some of it to another time, has determined me to do the former, especially as I have your promise that it shall not be communicated by either of you to anyone else, until I shall think proper to publish it. The only remaining favour I ask is, that you will give me a proof of the same unreserve by pointing out to me what you shall judge would be best altered, omitted, or added. It is difficult for a mind in affliction to concentrate itself upon such little cares. However, as you would direct a painter or sculptor who was representing the figure of your son what parts he should retouch or express, so I hope you will guide and inform my hand in this more durable or (as you are pleased to think it) this immortal likeness which I am endeavouring to execute: for the truer to the original, the more perfect and finished it is, so much the more lasting it is likely to prove. Farewell.
I didn’t tell you during my last visit that I had written something in honor of your son because, first, I didn’t create it to showcase my work; I did it simply to express my feelings and to cope with my grief over his loss. Also, since you mentioned, dear Spurinna, that you’d heard I had recited one of my pieces, I thought you might already know what it was about. Plus, I was concerned that bringing up such a heavy topic would dampen your spirits during this festive time. Even now, I’ve hesitated about whether to satisfy both your requests by sending only what I recited or to include the other parts I was thinking of holding back for another time. It doesn’t feel right to dedicate just one small piece to a memory that is so dear and sacred to me, and it also seems more beneficial for his legacy to share it in separate pieces. However, I’ve decided it might be better to send you everything now rather than hold some back for later, especially since you promised that you wouldn’t share this with anyone until I decide to publish it. The only other favor I ask is that you help me by letting me know what you think should be changed, removed, or added. It’s tough for someone in grief to focus on these small details. But just as you would guide a painter or sculptor on how to improve the representation of your son, I hope you will assist me in perfecting this lasting tribute (or, as you think of it, this immortal likeness) that I’m trying to create: the closer it is to the original, the more perfect and complete it becomes, which makes it more likely to endure. Goodbye.
XXXI — To JULIUS GENITOR
IT is just like the generous disposition of Artemidorus to magnify the kindnesses of his friends; hence he praises my deserts (though he is really indebted to me) beyond their due. It is true indeed that when the philosophers were expelled from Rome,[54] I visited him at his house near the city, and ran the greater risk in paying him that civility, as it was more noticeable then, I being praetor at the time. I supplied him too with a considerable sum to pay certain debts he had contracted upon very honourable occasions, without charging interest, though obliged to borrow the money myself, while the rest of his rich powerful friends stood by hesitating about giving him assistance. I did this at a time when seven of my friends were either executed or banished; Senecio, Rusticus, and Helvidius having just been put to death, while Mauricus, Gratilla, Arria, and Fannia, were sent into exile; and scorched as it were by so many lightning-bolts of the state thus hurled and flashing round me, I augured by no uncertain tokens my own impending doom. But I do not look upon myself, on that account, as deserving of the high praises my friend bestows upon me: all I pretend to is the being clear of the infamous guilt of abandoning him in his misfortunes. I had, as far as the differences between our ages would admit, a friendship for his father-in-law Musonius, whom I both loved and esteemed, while Artemidorus himself I entered into the closest intimacy with when I was serving as a military tribune in Syria. And I consider as a proof that there is some good in me the fact of my being so early capable of appreciating a man who is either a philosopher or the nearest resemblance to one possible; for I am sure that, amongst all those who at the present day call themselves philosophers, you will find hardly any one of them so full of sincerity and truth as he. I forbear to mention how patient he is of heat and cold alike, how indefatigable in labour, how abstemious in his food, and what an absolute restraint he puts upon all his appetites; for these qualities, considerable as they would certainly be in any other character, are less noticeable by the side of the rest of those virtues of his which recommended him to Musonius for a son-in-law, in preference to so many others of all ranks who paid their addresses to his daughter. And when I think of all these things, I cannot help feeling pleasurably affected by those unqualified terms of praise in which he speaks of me to you as well as to everyone else. I am only apprehensive lest the warmth of his kind feeling carry him beyond the due limits; for he, who is so free from all other errors, is apt to fall into just this one good-natured one, of overrating the merits of his friends. Farewell.
It's just like Artemidorus to highlight the kindness of his friends; that's why he praises my efforts (even though he's really the one in my debt) more than they deserve. It's true that when the philosophers were kicked out of Rome, I went to visit him at his home near the city, and it came with more risk at that time, since I was praetor. I also lent him a significant amount to help pay off some debts he had incurred for very respectable reasons, without charging interest, even though I had to borrow the money myself, while his wealthy, influential friends hesitated to help. I did this while seven of my friends were either executed or exiled; Senecio, Rusticus, and Helvidius had just been put to death, while Mauricus, Gratilla, Arria, and Fannia were sent into exile. With so many political assaults around me, I could sense my own doom was coming. But I don’t think I deserve the high praise my friend gives me; all I wanted was to avoid the disgrace of abandoning him in his trouble. I had, given our age difference, a friendship with his father-in-law Musonius, whom I both loved and respected, and I became very close to Artemidorus when I served as a military tribune in Syria. I see my ability to recognize a man who is either a philosopher or very close to one as a sign that there's some good in me; because among those who currently call themselves philosophers, very few possess his level of sincerity and truth. I won’t mention how well he endures heat and cold, how tireless he is in his work, how temperate he is with food, and how strict he is with all his desires; as impressive as these qualities are in anyone else, they are even less noticeable when compared to the other virtues that made him the preferred choice for Musonius’s daughter over many others who sought her hand. Thinking about all this, I can't help but feel pleased by the way he praises me to you and everyone else. I'm just worried that his warm regard might lead him to go overboard; for someone who is free of most other faults, he tends to have this one innocent flaw of overestimating his friends' qualities. Farewell.
XXXII — To CATILIUS SEVERUS
I WILL come to supper, but must make this agreement beforehand, that I go when I please, that you treat me to nothing expensive, and that our conversation abound only in Socratic discourse, while even that in moderation. There are certain necessary visits of ceremony, bringing people out before daylight, which Cato himself could not safely fall in with; though I must confess that Julius Cæsar reproaches him with that circumstance in such a manner as redounds to his praise; for he tells us that the persons who met him reeling home blushed at the discovery, and adds, "You would have thought that Cato had detected them, and not they Cato." Could he place the dignity of Cato in a stronger light than by representing him thus venerable even in his cups? But let our supper be as moderate in regard to hours as in the preparation and expense: for we are not of such eminent reputation that even our enemies cannot censure our conduct without applauding it at the same time. Farewell.
I will come to dinner, but we need to agree on a few things first: I can leave whenever I want, you won’t treat me to anything too pricey, and our conversation should only focus on Socratic dialogue, but even that should be moderate. There are some necessary ceremonial visits that can’t happen at dawn, which even Cato wouldn’t handle well; although, I have to admit, Julius Caesar criticizes him for that in a way that actually highlights his virtue. He mentions that the people who saw Cato stumbling home were embarrassed to be caught and adds, "You would have thought Cato caught them, rather than the other way around." Is there a better way to show Cato’s dignity than by portraying him as respectable even when he's drunk? But let our dinner be as reasonable in timing as it is in preparation and cost: we aren't so highly regarded that even our critics can't criticize us without also praising us. Goodbye.
XXXIII — To ACILIUS
THE atrocious treatment that Largius Macedo, a man of praetorian rank, lately received at the hands of his slaves is so extremely tragical that it deserves a place rather in public history than in a private letter; though it must at the same time be acknowledged there was a haughtiness and severity in his behaviour towards them which shewed that he little remembered, indeed almost entirely forgot, the fact that his own father had once been in that station of life. He was bathing at his Formian Villa, when he found himself suddenly surrounded by his slaves; one seizes him by the throat, another strikes him on the mouth, whilst others trampled upon his breast, stomach, and even other parts which I need not mention. When they thought the breath must be quite out of his body, they threw him down upon the heated pavement of the bath, to try whether he were still alive, where he lay outstretched and motionless, either really insensible or only feigning to be so, upon which they concluded him to be actually dead. In this condition they brought him out, pretending that he had got suffocated by the heat of the bath. Some of his more trusty servants received him, and his mistresses came about him shrieking and lamenting. The noise of their cries and the fresh air, together, brought him a little to himself; he opened his eyes, moved his body, and shewed them (as he now safely might) that he was not quite dead. The murderers immediately made their escape; but most of them have been caught again, and they are after the rest. He was with great difficulty kept alive for a few days, and then expired, having however the satisfaction of finding himself as amply revenged in his lifetime as he would have been after his death. Thus you see to what affronts, indignities, and dangers we are exposed. Lenity and kind treatment are no safeguard; for it is malice and not reflection that arms such ruffians against their masters. So much for this piece of news. And what else? What else? Nothing else, or you should hear it, for I have still paper, and time too (as it is holiday time with me) to spare for more, and I can tell you one further circumstance relating to Macedo, which now occurs to me. As he was in a public bath once, at Rome, a remarkable, and (judging from the manner of his death) an ominous, accident happened to him. A slave of his, in order to make way for his master, laid his hand gently upon a Roman knight, who, turning suddenly round, struck, not the slave who had touched him, but Macedo, so violent a blow with his open palm that he almost knocked him down. Thus the bath by a kind of gradation proved fatal to him; being first the scene of an indignity he suffered, afterwards the scene of his death. Farewell.
THE terrible treatment that Largius Macedo, a man of high rank, recently received from his slaves is so tragic that it deserves a spot in public history rather than a private letter; although it's important to note that he displayed arrogance and harshness towards them, showing that he barely remembered—almost entirely forgot—the fact that his own father had once been in that same position. He was bathing at his villa in Formia when he suddenly found himself surrounded by his slaves; one grabbed him by the throat, another struck him in the mouth, while others trampled on his chest, stomach, and even other areas that I won't mention. When they thought he must be out of breath, they threw him onto the hot pavement of the bath to check if he was still alive, where he lay stretched out and motionless, either genuinely unconscious or just pretending. They concluded he was actually dead. In this state, they carried him out, claiming he had suffocated from the heat of the bath. Some of his more loyal servants received him, and his mistresses surrounded him, screaming and crying. The sound of their cries and the fresh air brought him back to awareness; he opened his eyes, moved his body, and showed them (now safe to do so) that he wasn't quite dead. The criminals immediately fled, but most of them have been caught again, and they are still after the rest. He was kept alive with great difficulty for a few days, and then he died, although he found some satisfaction in knowing that he had avenged himself in life as thoroughly as he would have after death. So you can see what kinds of insults, indignities, and dangers we face. Kindness and good treatment offer no protection; it's malice, not reflection, that turns such thugs against their masters. That's all for this piece of news. And what else? What else? Nothing more, or you'd hear it, because I still have paper and time to spare (it's holiday time for me) for more, and I recall one more incident related to Macedo. Once, while he was at a public bath in Rome, a striking and, judging from how he died, an ominous event happened to him. One of his slaves, to clear a path for his master, lightly touched a Roman knight, who, turning suddenly, struck not the slave who had touched him but Macedo with such force that he nearly knocked him down. Thus, the bath, in a way, became fatal for him; first as the scene of an insult he suffered, and later as the scene of his death. Farewell.
XXXIV — To NEPOS
I HAVE constantly observed that amongst the deeds and sayings of illustrious persons of either sex, some have made more noise in the world, whilst others have been really greater, although less talked about; and I am confirmed in this opinion by a conversation I had yesterday with Fannia. This lady is a grand-daughter to that celebrated Arria, who animated her husband to meet death, by her own glorious example. She informed me of several particulars relating to Arria, no less heroic than this applauded action of hers, though taken less notice of, and I think you will be as surprised to read the account of them as I was to hear it. Her husband Caecinna Paetus, and her son, were both attacked at the same time with a fatal illness, as was supposed; of which the son died, a youth of remarkable beauty, and as modest as he was comely, endeared indeed to his parents no less by his many graces than from the fact of his being their son. His mother prepared his funeral and conducted the usual ceremonies so privately that Paetus did not know of his death. Whenever she came into his room, she pretended her son was alive and actually better: and as often as he enquired after his health, would answer, "He has had a good rest, and eaten his food with quite an appetite." Then when she found the tears, she had so long kept back, gushing forth in spite of herself, she would leave the room, and having given vent to her grief, return with dry eyes and a serene countenance, as though she had dismissed every feeling of bereavement at the door of her husband's chamber. I must confess it was a brave action[55] in her to draw the steel, plunge it into her breast, pluck out the dagger, and present it to her husband with that ever memorable, I had almost said that divine, expression, "Paetus, it is not painful." But when she spoke and acted thus, she had the prospect of glory and immortality before her; how far greater, without the support of any such animating motives, to hide her tears, to conceal her grief, and cheerfully to act the mother, when a mother no more!
I HAVE constantly noticed that among the actions and words of famous people, some have made a bigger impact in the world, while others have truly been greater but received less attention. I was reminded of this in a conversation I had yesterday with Fannia. She is the granddaughter of that well-known Arria, who encouraged her husband to face death through her own brave example. Fannia shared with me several details about Arria that were just as heroic as this celebrated act of hers, although they were less recognized, and I think you will be just as surprised to read about them as I was to hear them. Her husband, Caecinna Paetus, and her son both fell ill at the same time, with the son dying from what was believed to be a fatal illness. He was a remarkably handsome young man, just as modest as he was good-looking, and he was cherished by his parents not only for his many qualities but also simply for being their son. Arria organized his funeral and carried out the usual ceremonies so discreetly that Paetus was unaware of his death. Whenever she went into his room, she acted as if her son was alive and actually doing better. Whenever he asked about his health, she would reply, "He has had a good rest and eaten his food with a good appetite." But when she finally found herself unable to hold back her tears any longer, she would leave the room, let her grief out, and return with dry eyes and a calm expression, as if she had pushed all her feelings of loss away before entering her husband’s chamber. I must admit, it was a brave act for her to draw the dagger, stab it into her chest, take it out, and present it to her husband with that unforgettable, almost divine, statement: "Paetus, it is not painful." But when she said and did this, she had the promise of glory and immortality ahead of her; how much greater it is, without any inspiring motives, to hide her tears, conceal her sorrow, and cheerfully perform the role of a mother, when she was no longer a mother!
Scribonianus had taken up arms in Illyria against Clatidius, where he lost his life, and Paetus, who was of his party, was brought a prisoner to Rome. When they were going to put him on board ship, Arria besought the soldiers that she might be permitted to attend him: "For surely," she urged, "you will allow a man of consular rank some servants to dress him, attend to him at meals, and put his shoes on for him; but if you will take me, I alone will perform all these offices." Her request was refused; upon which she hired a fishing-boat, and in that small vessel followed the ship. On her return to Rome, meeting the wife of Scribonianus in the emperor's palace, at the time when this woman voluntarily gave evidence against the conspirators—"What," she exclaimed, "shall I hear you even speak to me, you, on whose bosom your husband Scribonianus was murdered, and yet you survive him?"—an expression which plainly shews that the noble manner in which she put an end to her life was no unpremeditated effect of sudden passion. Moreover, when Thrasea, her son-in-law, was endeavouring to dissuade her from her purpose of destroying herself, and, amongst other arguments which he used, said to her, "Would you then advise your daughter to die with me if my life were to be taken from me?" "Most certainly I would," she replied, "if she had lived as long, and in as much harmony with you, as I have with my Paetus." This answer greatly increased the alarm of her family, and made them watch her for the future more narrowly; which, when she perceived, "It is of no use," she said, "you may oblige me to effect my death in a more painful way, but it is impossible you should prevent it." Saying this, she sprang from her chair, and running her head with the utmost violence against the wall, fell down, to all appearance, dead; but being brought to herself again, "I told you," she said, "if you would not suffer me to take an easy path to death, I should find a way to it, however hard." Now, is there not, my friend, something much greater in all this than in the so-much-talked-of "Paetus, it is not painful," to which these led the way? And yet this last is the favourite topic of fame, while all the former are passed over in silence. Whence I cannot but infer, what I observed at the beginning of my letter, that some actions are more celebrated, whilst others are really greater. Farewell.
Scribonianus had taken up arms in Illyria against Clatidius, where he lost his life, and Paetus, who was with him, was captured and brought to Rome. When they were about to put him on a ship, Arria pleaded with the soldiers to let her accompany him: "Surely," she argued, "you'll allow a man of consular rank some servants to help him dress, eat, and put on his shoes; but if you take me, I'll do all of that myself." Her request was denied, so she hired a fishing boat and followed the ship in that small vessel. When she returned to Rome and encountered the wife of Scribonianus in the emperor's palace—at the time when this woman willingly testified against the conspirators—she exclaimed, "What? Are you really going to talk to me, the one who had your husband Scribonianus murdered in your arms, and yet you are still alive?" This statement clearly indicates that the dignified way she ended her life was not a hasty reaction but a well-thought-out decision. Furthermore, when Thrasea, her son-in-law, tried to dissuade her from killing herself, he argued, "Would you advise your daughter to die with me if my life were to be taken?" "Absolutely," she replied, "if she had lived as long and in as much harmony with you as I have with my Paetus." This response heightened her family's anxiety and made them watch her more closely. When she noticed this, she said, "It’s pointless; you might force me to die in a more painful way, but you can’t stop me." With that, she jumped up and violently slammed her head against the wall, falling down, seemingly dead; but when she regained consciousness, she said, "I told you, if you wouldn’t let me take an easy path to death, I’d find a way to it, no matter how hard." Now, isn’t there something much greater in all this than in the much-discussed "Paetus, it is not painful," that these events led to? And yet, this last has become the favorite subject of discussion, while all the earlier actions are ignored. From this, I can’t help but conclude, as I noted at the beginning of my letter, that some actions are more celebrated, while others are truly greater. Farewell.
XXXV — To SEVERUS
I WAS obliged by my consular office to compliment the emperor[56] in the name of the republic; but after I had performed that ceremony in the senate in the usual manner, and as fully as the time and place would allow, I thought it agreeable to the affection of a good subject to enlarge those general heads, and expand them into a complete discourse. My principal object in doing so was, to confirm the emperor in his virtues, by paying them that tribute of applause which they so justly deserve; and at the same time to direct future princes, not in the formal way of lecture, but by his more engaging example, to those paths they must pursue if they would attain the same heights of glory. To instruct princes how to form their conduct, is a noble, but difficult task, and may, perhaps, be esteemed an act of presumption: but to applaud the character of an accomplished prince, and to hold out to posterity, by this means, a beacon-light as it were, to guide succeeding monarchs, is a method equally useful, and much more modest. It afforded me a very singular pleasure that when I wished to recite this panegyric in a private assembly, my friends gave me their company, though I did not solicit them in the usual form of notes or circulars, but only desired their attendance, "should it be quite convenient to them," and "if they should happen to have no other engagement." You know the excuses generally made at Rome to avoid invitations of this kind; how prior invitations are usually alleged; yet, in spite of the worst possible weather, they attended the recital for two days together; and when I thought it would be unreasonable to detain them any longer, they insisted upon my going through with it the next day. Shall I consider this as an honour done to myself or to literature? Rather let me suppose to the latter, which, though well-nigh extinct, seems to be now again reviving amongst us. Yet what was the subject which raised this uncommon attention? No other than what formerly, even in the senate, where we had to submit to it, we used to grudge even a few moments' attention to. But now, you see, we have patience to recite and to attend to the same topic for three days together; and the reason of this is, not that we have more eloquent writing now than formerly, but we write under a fuller sense of individual freedom, and consequently more genially than we used to. It is an additional glory therefore to our present emperor that this sort of harangue, which was once as disgusting as it was false, is now as pleasing as it is sincere. But it was not only the earnest attention of my audience which afforded me pleasure; I was greatly delighted too with the justness of their taste: for I observed, that the more nervous parts of my discourse gave them peculiar satisfaction. It is true, indeed, this work, which was written for the perusal of the world in general, was read only to a few; however, I would willingly look upon their particular judgment as an earnest of that of the public, and rejoice at their manly taste as if it were universally spread. It was just the same in eloquence as it was in music, the vitiated ears of the audience introduced a depraved style; but now, I am inclined to hope, as a more refined judgment prevails in the public, our compositions of both kinds will improve too; for those authors whose sole object is to please will fashion their works according to the popular taste. I trust, however, in subjects of this nature the florid style is most proper; and am so far from thinking that the vivid colouring I have used will be esteemed foreign and unnatural that I am most apprehensive that censure will fall upon those parts where the diction is most simple and unornate. Nevertheless, I sincerely wish the time may come, and that it now were, when the smooth and luscious, which has affected our style, shall give place, as it ought, to severe and chaste composition. — Thus have I given you an account of my doings of these last three days, that your absence might not entirely deprive you of a pleasure which, from your friendship to me, and the part you take in everything that concerns the interest of literature, I know you would have received, had you been there to hear. Farewell.
I was required by my consular office to compliment the emperor[56] on behalf of the republic; but after I completed that formal ceremony in the senate as usual, I felt it fitting as a loyal subject to elaborate on those general points and develop them into a thorough discourse. My main goal in doing this was to reinforce the emperor's virtues by giving them the praise they rightly deserve; at the same time, I wanted to guide future rulers, not through formal lectures, but by his inspiring example, toward the paths they need to take if they want to reach the same heights of glory. Teaching rulers how to conduct themselves is a noble but challenging task and might even be seen as presumptuous; however, praising the character of a great prince and providing a guiding light for future monarchs is a method that is both useful and much more humble. It brought me unique pleasure that when I wanted to read this praise in a private gathering, my friends joined me, even though I didn't invite them in the typical way with notes or circulars, but simply asked for their presence, "if it was really convenient for them," and "if they had no other commitments." You know the usual excuses made in Rome to avoid such invitations, how prior commitments are often claimed; yet, despite the terrible weather, they showed up for the reading for two consecutive days. When I thought it would be unreasonable to keep them longer, they insisted that I continue it the next day. Should I see this as an honor for myself or for literature? I would rather attribute it to the latter, which, although nearly extinct, seems to be reviving among us. But what sparked this unusual interest? The same topic that we used to begrudge even a few minutes of attention to in the senate. But now, as you see, we have the patience to discuss and engage with the same subject for three days straight; the reason for this isn’t that our writing is more eloquent now than before, but because we write with a greater sense of individual freedom, which makes our work more genuine than it used to be. It is an additional credit to our current emperor that this kind of speech, which was once as off-putting as it was false, is now as enjoyable as it is sincere. But it wasn’t just the sincere attention from my audience that pleased me; I was also thrilled by their discerning taste, as I noticed that the more powerful parts of my discourse particularly resonated with them. It’s true that this work, intended for the world to read, was only presented to a small group; however, I prefer to regard their specific judgments as a sign of public sentiment and celebrate their strong taste as if it were widely shared. The situation in eloquence mirrors that in music; the corrupt ears of the audience introduced a flawed style, but now, I hope that with a more refined judgment among the public, our works in both areas will improve as well; for those writers whose only goal is to please will tailor their work to the popular taste. I do believe, however, that for topics like this, an elaborate style is most appropriate; I fear that criticism will come more from the parts where the language is simpler and less ornate, rather than from the vivid imagery I’ve employed. Nevertheless, I genuinely hope for a time, and that it is soon, when the smooth and indulgent style that has influenced our writing gives way, as it should, to more rigorous and pure compositions. — This is my account of the past three days, so your absence wouldn’t completely deny you the enjoyment that I know you would have felt, given your friendship and your interest in everything related to literature. Take care.
XXXVI — To CALVISIUS RUFUS
I MUST have recourse to you, as usual, in an affair which concerns my finances. An estate adjoining my land, and indeed running into it, is for sale. There are several considerations strongly inclining me to this purchase, while there are others no less weighty deterring me from it. Its first recommendation is, the beauty which will result from uniting this farm to my own lands; next, the advantage as well as pleasure of being able to visit it without additional trouble and expense; to have it superintended by the same steward, and almost by the same sub-agents, and to have one villa to support and embellish, the other just to keep in common repair. I take into this account furniture, housekeepers, fancy-gardeners, artificers, and even hunting-apparatus, as it makes a very great difference whether you get these altogether into one place or scatter them about in several. On the other hand, I don't know whether it is prudent to expose so large a property to the same climate, and the same risks of accident happening; to distribute one's possessions about seems a safer way of meeting the caprice of fortune, besides, there is something extremely pleasant in the change of air and place, and the going about between one's properties. And now, to come to the chief consideration:—the lands are rich, fertile, and well-watered, consisting chiefly of meadow-ground, vineyard, and wood, while the supply of building timber and its returns, though moderate, still, keep at the same rate. But the soil, fertile as it is, has been much impoverished by not having been properly looked after. The person last in possession used frequently to seize and sell the stock, by which means, although he lessened his tenants' arrears for the time being, yet he left them nothing to go on with and the arrears ran up again in consequence. I shall be obliged, then, to provide them with slaves, which I must buy, and at a higher than the usual price, as these will be good ones; for I keep no fettered slaves[57] myself, and there are none upon the estate. For the rest, the price, you must know, is three millions of sesterces.[58] It has formerly gone over five millions,[59] but owing, partly to the general hardness of the times, and partly to its being thus stripped of tenants, the income of this estate is reduced, and consequently its value. You will be inclined perhaps to enquire whether I can easily raise the purchase-money? My estate, it is true, is almost entirely in land, though I have some money out at interest; but I shall find no difficulty in borrowing any sum I may want. I can get it from my wife's mother, whose purse I may use with the same freedom as my own; so that you need not trouble yourself at all upon that point, should you have no other objections, which I should like you very carefully to consider: for, as in everything else, so, particularly in matters of economy, no man has more judgment and experience than yourself. Farewell.
I need to ask for your advice again about something related to my finances. There's an estate next to my property, which actually extends into it, that's up for sale. There are several strong reasons pushing me toward this purchase, but there are also some significant concerns holding me back. First, it would be beautiful to combine this farm with my own land; second, it would be convenient and enjoyable to visit it without extra hassle and costs, having it managed by the same steward and nearly the same staff, and to maintain one villa while just keeping the other in good repair. I also consider things like furniture, housekeepers, gardeners, craftsmen, and even hunting gear because it makes a big difference to have everything in one location rather than spread out across several. On the flip side, I'm not sure if it's wise to put such a large property at risk from the same climate and potential accidents; spreading my assets seems like a safer bet against the whims of fortune. Plus, there's something really nice about changing the scenery and traveling between my properties. Now, to the main point: the land is rich, fertile, and well-watered, mostly consisting of meadows, vineyards, and woods. The supply of building timber is modest but consistent. However, while the soil is fertile, it has suffered because it hasn't been properly cared for. The previous owner often seized and sold livestock, which, although it temporarily reduced the tenants' debts, ultimately left them with nothing to work with, so the debts piled up again. Therefore, I will need to provide them with slaves, which I will have to buy at a higher price because I need quality ones; I don't keep any enslaved people myself, and there are none on the estate. As for the cost, it’s three million sesterces. It used to be valued at over five million, but due to the tough times and the loss of tenants, the income from this estate has dropped, affecting its value. You might wonder if I can easily raise the money for the purchase. My estate is mostly land, though I have some cash invested, but I won’t have any trouble borrowing what I need. I can get it from my mother-in-law, whose resources I can use as freely as my own, so you don't need to worry about that. However, I would appreciate it if you could carefully consider any other objections you might have, as you have more judgment and experience in financial matters than anyone else I know. Take care.
XXXVII — To CORNELIUS PRISCUS
I HAVE just heard of Valerius Martial's death, which gives me great concern. He was a man of an acute and lively genius, and his writings abound in equal wit, satire, and kindliness. On his leaving Rome I made him a present to defray his travelling expenses, which I gave him, not only as a testimony of friendship, but also in return for the verses with which he had complimented me. It was the custom of the ancients to distinguish those poets with honours or pecuniary rewards, who had celebrated particular individuals or cities in their verses; but this good custom, along with every other fair and noble one, has grown out of fashion now; and in consequence of our having ceased to act laudably, we consider praise a folly and impertinence. You may perhaps be curious to see the verses which merited this acknowledgment from me, and I believe I can, from memory, partly satisfy your curiosity, without referring you to his works: but if you should be pleased with this specimen of them, you must turn to his poems for the rest. He addresses himself to his muse, whom he directs to go to my house upon the Esquiline,[60] but to approach it with respect.
I just heard about Valerius Martial's death, and I'm really sad about it. He was a person with a sharp and vibrant mind, and his writings are filled with equal parts wit, satire, and kindness. When he left Rome, I gave him a gift to help cover his travel expenses, not just as a sign of friendship but also as a thank you for the verses he wrote about me. It was common in ancient times to honor poets who celebrated specific people or cities in their work with rewards or recognition; however, this good practice, along with many other noble traditions, has faded away. Because we've stopped acting honorably, we now see praise as foolishness and annoyance. You might be curious to see the verses that earned this acknowledgment from me, and I think I can partly satisfy your curiosity from memory without needing to refer you to his works. But if you enjoy this sample, you'll need to check out his poems for the rest. He calls on his muse, instructing her to visit my house on the Esquiline, but to approach it with respect.
"Go, wanton muse, but go with care,
Nor meet, ill-tim'd, my Pliny's ear;
He, by sage Minerva taught,
Gives the day to studious thought,
And plans that eloquence divine,
Which shall to future ages shine,
And rival, wondrous Tully! thine.
Then, cautious, watch the vacant hour,
When Bacchus reigns in all his pow'r;
When, crowned with rosy chaplets gay,
Catos might read my frolic lay."[61]
"Go, playful muse, but be careful,
Don’t interrupt my friend Pliny;
He, taught by wise Minerva,
Dedicates his day to thoughtful study,
And creates that divine eloquence,
Which will shine through the ages,
And rival the amazing Tully! yours.
So, be cautious and watch for the right moment,
When Bacchus is in full power;
When, crowned with cheerful rose garlands,
Catos could enjoy my playful poem."[61]Do you not think that the poet who wrote of me in such terms deserved some friendly marks of my bounty then, and of my sorrow now? For he gave me the very best he had to bestow, and would have given more had it been in his power. Though indeed what can a man have conferred on him more valuable than the honour of never-fading praise? But his poems will not long survive their author, at least I think not, though he wrote them in the expectation of their doing so. Farewell.
Don’t you think that the poet who wrote about me like this deserved some kind gestures from me back then, and my regret now? He gave me his very best, and would have given even more if he could. But what can a person really receive that's more valuable than the honor of lasting praise? Still, I don't believe his poems will outlive him, even though he wrote them expecting they would. Goodbye.
XXXVIII — To FABATUS (HIS WIFE'S GRANDFATHER)
You have long desired a visit from your grand-daughter[62] accompanied by me. Nothing, be assured, could be more agreeable to either of us; for we equally wish to see you, and are determined to delay that pleasure no longer. For this purpose we are already packing up, and hastening to you with all the speed the roads will permit of. We shall make only one, short, stoppage, for we intend turning a little out of our way to go into Tuscany: not for the sake of looking upon our estate, and into our family concerns, which we can postpone to another opportunity, but to perform an indispensable duty. There is a town near my estate, called Tifernum-upon-the-Tiber,[63] which, with more affection than wisdom, put itself under my patronage when I was yet a youth. These people celebrate my arrival among them, express the greatest concern when I leave them, and have public rejoicings whenever they hear of my preferments. By way of requiting their kindnesses (for what generous mind can bear to be excelled in acts of friendship?) I have built a temple in this place, at my own expense, and as it is finished, it would be a sort of impiety to put off its dedication any longer. So we shall be there on the day on which that ceremony is to be performed, and I have resolved to celebrate it with a general feast. We may possibly stay on there for all the next day, but shall make so much the greater haste in our journey afterwards. May we have the happiness to find you and your daughter in good health! In good spirits I am sure we shall, should we get to you all safely. Farewell.
You’ve long wanted a visit from your granddaughter, along with me. Rest assured, nothing would be more pleasant for either of us; we both want to see you and are determined not to delay that joy any longer. To this end, we are already packing and rushing to you as fast as the roads allow. We’ll make just a short stop because we plan to take a little detour into Tuscany: not to check on our estate or family business, which we can postpone for another time, but to fulfill an important duty. There’s a town near my estate called Tifernum-upon-the-Tiber, which, with more affection than foresight, put itself under my patronage when I was young. These people celebrate my arrival, express deep concern when I leave, and hold public celebrations whenever they hear of my advancements. As a way of returning their kindness (for what generous person can stand being outdone in friendship?), I built a temple there at my own expense, and since it’s finished, it would be wrong to delay its dedication any longer. So, we will be there on the day of the ceremony, and I’ve decided to celebrate with a big feast. We might stay there for the next day, but we’ll hurry on our journey afterward. I hope we find you and your daughter in good health! I’m sure we’ll be in good spirits if we arrive safely. Farewell.
XXXIX — To ATTIUS CLEMENS
REGULUS has lost his son; the only undeserved misfortune which could have befallen him, in that I doubt whether he thinks it a misfortune. The boy had quick parts, but there was no telling how he might turn out; however, he seemed capable enough of going right, were he not to grow up like his father. Regulus gave him his freedom,[64] in order to entitle him to the estate left him by his mother; and when he got into possession of it, (I speak of the current rumours, based upon the character of the man,) fawned upon the lad with a disgusting shew of fond affection which in a parent was utterly out of place. You may hardly think this credible; but then consider what Regulus is. However, he now expresses his concern for the loss of this youth in a most extravagant manner. The boy had a number of ponies for riding and driving, dogs both big and little, together with nightingales, parrots, and blackbirds in abundance. All these Regulus slew round the funeral pile. It was not grief, but an ostentatious parade of grief. He is visited upon this occasion by a surprising number of people, who all hate and detest the man, and yet are as assiduous in their attendance upon him as if they really esteemed and loved him, and, to give you my opinion in a word, in endeavouring to do Regulus a kindness, make themselves exactly like him. He keeps himself in his park on the other side the Tiber, where he has covered a vast extent of ground with his porticoes, and crowded all the shore with his statues; for he unites prodigality with excessive covetousness, and vain-glory with the height of infamy. At this very unhealthy time of year he is boring society, and he feels pleasure and consolation in being a bore. He says he wishes to marry,—a piece of perversity, like all his other conduct. You must expect, therefore, to hear shortly of the marriage of this mourner, the marriage of this old man; too early in the former case, in the latter, too late. You ask me why I conjecture this? Certainly not because he says so himself (for a greater liar never stepped), but because there is no doubt that Regulus will do whatever ought not to be done. Farewell.
REGULUS has lost his son; the only unwarranted misfortune that could have happened to him, and I'm not sure he even sees it as a misfortune. The boy was sharp, but it was hard to predict how he would turn out; still, he seemed capable of doing well, unless he grew up just like his father. Regulus gave him his freedom, [64] so he could inherit the estate left to him by his mother; and when he took possession of it, (I’m referring to the current gossip based on this man's reputation,) he lavished attention on the boy with an appalling display of affection that was completely inappropriate for a parent. You might find this hard to believe, but consider who Regulus is. Nonetheless, he now shows his sorrow over the loss of this young man in an over-the-top way. The boy had several ponies for riding and driving, dogs of all sizes, and plenty of nightingales, parrots, and blackbirds. Regulus killed all these around the funeral pyre. It wasn’t genuine grief; it was a showy display of grief. He is visited by an astonishing number of people, all of whom loathe the man, yet they crowd around him as if they actually respected and cared for him, and honestly, in trying to be kind to Regulus, they end up behaving just like him. He stays in his park on the other side of the Tiber, where he’s covered a huge area with his porticoes and filled the shore with his statues; he combines extravagance with extreme greed, and vanity with the utmost disgrace. At this particularly unpleasant time of year, he is boring society, and he finds pleasure and comfort in being a bore. He claims he wants to get married—a twisted decision, like all his other actions. So, you should expect to hear soon about this mourner's wedding, the marriage of this old man; too early when it comes to the former, and too late for the latter. You ask why I think this? Certainly not because he says so himself (because he’s the biggest liar around), but because there’s no doubt that Regulus will do whatever shouldn’t be done. Farewell.
XL — To CATIUS LEPIDUS
I OFTEN tell you that there is a certain force of character about Regulus: it is wonderful how he carries through what he has set his mind to. He chose lately to be extremely concerned for the loss of his son: accordingly he mourned for him as never man mourned before. He took it into his head to have an immense number of statues and pictures of him; immediately all the artisans in Rome are set to work. Canvas, wax, brass, silver, gold, ivory, marble, all exhibit the figure of the young Regulus. Not long ago he read, before a numerous audience, a memoir of his son: a memoir of a mere boy! However he read it. He wrote likewise a sort of circular letter to the several Decurii desiring them to choose out one of their order who had a strong clear voice, to read this eulogy to the people; it has been actually done. Now had this force of character or whatever else you may call a fixed determination in obtaining whatever one has a mind for, been rightly applied, what infinite good it might have effected! The misfortune is, there is less of this quality about good people than about bad people, and as ignorance begets rashness, and thoughtfulness produces deliberation, so modesty is apt to cripple the action of virtue, whilst confidence strengthens vice. Regulus is a case in point: he has a weak voice, an awkward delivery, an indistinct utterance, a slow imagination, and no memory; in a word, he possesses nothing but a sort of frantic energy: and yet, by the assistance of a flighty turn and much impudence, he passes as an orator. Herennius Senecio admirably reversed Cato's definition of an orator, and applied it to Regulus: "An orator," he said, "is a bad man, unskilled in the art of speaking." And really Cato's definition is not a more exact description of a true orator than Seneclo's is of the character of this man. Would you make me a suitable return for this letter? Let me know if you, or any of my friends in your town, have, like a stroller in the marketplace, read this doleful production of Regulus's, "raising," as Demosthenes says, "your voice most merrily, and straining every muscle in your throat." For so absurd a performance must excite laughter rather than compassion; and indeed the composition is as puerile as the subject. Farewell.
I often tell you that Regulus has a strong character: it's amazing how he sticks to what he's set his mind on. Recently, he decided to deeply mourn the loss of his son: so he grieved for him like no one ever has before. He got it into his head to create a huge number of statues and paintings of him; so all the artisans in Rome got to work. Canvas, wax, brass, silver, gold, ivory, marble—all showed the likeness of the young Regulus. Not long ago, he read a memoir of his son in front of a large audience: a memoir about just a boy! But he read it. He also wrote a kind of circular letter to the different councils asking them to choose someone with a strong, clear voice to read this tribute to the people; and it actually happened. If only this determination or whatever you call it had been used for something good, think of all the good it could have done! The problem is that good people often have less of this quality than bad people do, and just like ignorance leads to recklessness while thoughtfulness leads to careful consideration, modesty can hold back virtuous action, whereas confidence boosts vice. Regulus is a clear example: he has a weak voice, clumsy delivery, unclear speech, a slow mind, and no memory; in short, he has nothing but a kind of frantic energy: and yet, with a bit of a whimsical attitude and a lot of boldness, he gets by as an orator. Herennius Senecio cleverly turned Cato's definition of an orator on its head and applied it to Regulus: "An orator," he said, "is a bad person who doesn't know how to speak." And honestly, Cato's definition is no more accurate for describing a true orator than Senecio's is for describing this man. Could you send me a thoughtful response to this letter? Let me know if you or any of my friends in your town have, like a street performer in the marketplace, read this sad piece from Regulus, "raising," as Demosthenes says, "your voice joyfully, and straining every muscle in your throat." Such a ridiculous performance is more likely to inspire laughter than sympathy; and honestly, the writing is as childish as the subject. Farewell.
XLI — To MATURUS ARRIANUS
Mv advancement to the dignity of augur[65] is an honour that justly indeed merits your congratulations; not only because it is highly honourable to receive, even in the slightest instances, a testimony of the approbation of so wise and discreet a prince,[66] but because it is moreover an ancient and religious institution, which has this sacred and peculiar privilege annexed to it, that it is for life. Other sacerdotal offices, though they may, perhaps, be almost equal to this one in dignity, yet as they are given so they may be taken away again: but fortune has no further power over this than to bestow it. What recommends this dignity still more highly is, that I have the honour to succeed so illustrious a person as Julius Frontinus. He for many years, upon the nomination-day of proper persons to be received into the sacred college, constantly proposed me, as though he had a view to electing me as his successor; and since it actually proved so in the event, I am willing to look upon it as something more than mere accident. But the circumstance, it seems, that most pleases you in this affair, is, that Cicero enjoyed the same post; and you rejoice (you tell me) to find that I follow his steps as closely in the path of honours as I endeavour to do in that of eloquence. I wish, indeed, that as I had the advantage of being admitted earlier into the same order of priesthood, and into the consular office, than Cicero, that so I might, in my later years, catch some spark, at least, of his divine genius! The former, indeed, being at man's disposal, may be conferred on me and on many others, but the latter it is as presumptuous to hope for as it is difficult to reach, being in the gift of heaven alone. Farewell.
My advancement to the position of augur is an honor that truly deserves your congratulations; not only because it’s a significant achievement to receive recognition from such a wise and thoughtful prince, but also because it is an ancient and respected institution with the unique privilege of being a lifelong appointment. Other religious roles, while they may be nearly as esteemed, can be given and taken away, but luck has no control over this title other than to grant it. What elevates this honor even more is that I have the privilege of succeeding the renowned Julius Frontinus. For many years, on the nomination day for those to be admitted into the sacred college, he consistently nominated me, as if he intended to choose me as his successor; and since it turned out that way, I prefer to see it as more than simple chance. However, it seems that what pleases you most about this situation is that Cicero held the same position; and you express joy in seeing me follow his footsteps in pursuing honors just as I strive to do in eloquence. I do wish that since I got the opportunity to enter the same priesthood and the consular office before Cicero, I might, in my later years, capture at least a glimpse of his divine genius! The former can indeed be granted to me and others, but aspiring for the latter is as bold as it is challenging, being solely in the hands of fate. Farewell.
XLII — To STATIUS SABINUS
YOUR letter informs me that Sabina, who appointed you and me her heirs, though she has nowhere expressly directed that Modestus shall have his freedom, yet has left him a legacy in the following words, "I give, &c.—To Modestus, whom I have ordered to have his freedom": upon which you desire my opinion. I have consulted skilful lawyers upon the point, and they all agree Modestus is not entitled to his liberty, since it is not expressly given, and consequently that the legacy is void, as being bequeathed to a slave.[67] But it evidently appears to be a mistake in the testatrix; and therefore I think we ought to act in this case as though Sabina had directed, in so many words, what, it is clear, she had ordered. I am persuaded you will go with me in this opinion, who so religiously regard the will of the deceased, which indeed where it can be discovered will always be law to honest heirs. Honour is to you and me as strong an obligation as the compulsion of law is to others. Let Modestus then enjoy his freedom and his legacy as fully as if Sabina had observed all the requisite forms, as indeed they effectually do who make a judicious choice of their heirs. Farewell.
YOUR letter informs me that Sabina, who named you and me as her heirs, even though she didn’t explicitly say that Modestus should be free, still left him a legacy with the following words: "I give, etc.—To Modestus, whom I have ordered to have his freedom." You’re asking for my opinion on this. I’ve consulted some knowledgeable lawyers about it, and they all agree that Modestus isn’t entitled to his freedom since it’s not clearly stated, making the legacy void as it’s bequeathed to a slave. But it clearly seems like a mistake on the part of the testatrix, so I think we should treat this situation as if Sabina had explicitly stated what she clearly intended. I’m sure you will agree with me on this, as you so deeply respect the wishes of the deceased, which, when understood, should always guide honest heirs. Honor is as strong an obligation for you and me as the law is for others. Let Modestus enjoy his freedom and his legacy as completely as if Sabina had followed all the necessary procedures, which is what those who wisely choose their heirs effectively do. Goodbye.
XLIII — To CORNELIUS MINICIANUS
Have you heard—I suppose, not yet, for the news has but just arrived — that Valerius Licinianus has become a professor in Sicily? This unfortunate person, who lately enjoyed the dignity of praetor, and was esteemed the most eloquent of our advocates, is now fallen from a senator to an exile, from an orator to a teacher of rhetoric. Accordingly in his inaugural speech he uttered, sorrowfully and solemnly, the following words: "Oh! Fortune, how capriciously dost thou sport with mankind! Thou makest rhetoricians of senators, and senators of rhetoricians!" A sarcasm so poignant and full of gall that one might almost imagine he fixed upon this profession merely for the sake of an opportunity of applying it. And having made his first appearance in school, clad in the Greek cloak (for exiles have no right to wear the toga), after arranging himself and looking down upon his attire, "I am, however," he said, "going to declaim in Latin." You will think, perhaps, this situation, wretched and deplorable as it is, is what he well deserves for having stained the honourable profession of an orator with the crime of incest. It is true, indeed, he pleaded guilty to the charge; but whether from a consciousness of his guilt, or from an apprehension of worse consequences if he denied it, is not clear; for Domitian generally raged most furiously where his evidence failed him most hopelessly. That emperor had determined that Cornelia, chief of the Vestal Virgins, should be buried alive, from an extravagant notion that exemplary severities of this kind conferred lustre upon his reign. Accordingly, by virtue of his office as supreme pontiff, or, rather, in the exercise of a tyrant's cruelty, a despot's lawlessness, he convened the sacred college, not in the pontifical court where they usually assemble, but at his villa near Alba; and there, with a guilt no less heinous than that which he professed to be punishing, he condemned her, when she was not present to defend herself, on the charge of incest, while he himself had been guilty, not only of debauching his own brother's daughter, but was also accessory to her death: for that lady, being a widow, in order to conceal her shame, endeavoured to procure an abortion, and by that means lost her life. However, the priests were directed to see the sentence immediately executed upon Cornelia. As they were leading her to the place of execution, she called upon Vesta, and the rest of the gods, to attest her innocence; and, amongst other exclamations, frequently cried out, "Is it possible that Cæsar can think me polluted, under the influence of whose sacred functions he has conquered and triumphed?"[69] Whether she said this in flattery or derision; whether it proceeded from a consciousness of her innocence, or contempt of the emperor, is uncertain; but she continued exclaiming in this manner, till she came to the place of execution, to which she was led, whether innocent or guilty I cannot say, at all events with every appearance and demonstration of innocence. As she was being lowered down into the subterranean vault, her robe happening to catch upon something in the descent, she turned round and disengaged it, when, the executioner offering his assistance, she drew herself back with horror, refusing to be so much as touched by him, as though it were a defilement to her pure and unspotted chastity: still preserving the appearance of sanctity up to the last moment; and, among all the other instances of her modesty,
Have you heard? I guess not yet, since the news has just arrived—Valerius Licinianus has become a professor in Sicily. This unfortunate man, who just recently held the title of praetor and was regarded as the most eloquent of our lawyers, has now fallen from being a senator to an exile, from an orator to a rhetoric teacher. In his inaugural speech, he sadly and seriously stated, “Oh! Fortune, how randomly do you toy with humanity! You make rhetoricians out of senators and senators out of rhetoricians!” It’s a biting sarcasm so sharp that one might think he chose this profession just to have a chance to express it. When he made his first appearance at school, dressed in a Greek cloak (since exiles aren't allowed to wear the toga), he adjusted himself and looked at what he was wearing, saying, “I am, however, going to speak in Latin.” You might think that this miserable and pitiful situation is what he deserves for tarnishing the noble profession of oratory with the crime of incest. It’s true; he admitted to the charge, but whether it was from guilt or fear of worse consequences if he denied it isn’t clear, as Domitian usually unleashed his fury most intensely when his evidence was weakest. That emperor had decided that Cornelia, the head of the Vestal Virgins, should be buried alive, driven by the bizarre belief that such extreme punishments would enhance his reign’s glory. So, in his capacity as supreme pontiff—or rather, in the act of a tyrant’s cruelty, a despot’s lawlessness—he called the sacred college together, not in the customary pontifical court, but at his villa near Alba; and there, with a guilt no less severe than that which he claimed to be punishing, he condemned her in absentia on incest charges, even though he himself had not only corrupted his own brother's daughter but was also complicit in her death. This woman, being a widow, tried to conceal her shame by seeking an abortion, which ultimately cost her life. Still, the priests were ordered to carry out the sentence on Cornelia right away. As they took her to the execution site, she called on Vesta and the other gods to witness her innocence, frequently exclaiming, “Is it possible that Caesar thinks me polluted, under whose sacred authority he has achieved victory and triumph?” Whether she said this to flatter or mock him, whether she was truly innocent or scornful of the emperor, remains uncertain; but she kept shouting like this until she reached the execution site, to which she was led, whether innocent or guilty I cannot say, but definitely with every appearance of innocence. As she was being lowered into the underground vault, her robe caught on something during the descent, and as she turned to free it, the executioner offered his help, but she recoiled in horror, refusing to let him touch her, as if it would tarnish her pure and unblemished chastity, maintaining the appearance of dignity right up to the very end; and amidst all her acts of modesty,
Celer likewise, a Roman knight, who was accused of an intrigue with her, while they were scourging him with rods[71] in the Forum, persisted in exclaiming, "What have I done?—I have done nothing." These declarations of innocence had exasperated Domitian exceedingly, as imputing to him acts of cruelty and injustice, accordingly Licinianus being seized by the emperor's orders for having concealed a freedwoman of Cornelia's in one of his estates, was advised, by those who took him in charge, to confess the fact, if he hoped to obtain a remission of his punishment, circumstance to add further, that a young nobleman, having had his tunic torn, an ordinary occurrence in a crowd, stood with his gown thrown over him, to hear me, and that during the seven hours I was speaking, whilst my success more than counterbalanced the fatigue of so long a speech. So let us set to and not screen our own indolence under pretence of that of the public. Never, be very sure of that, will there be wanting hearers and readers, so long as we can only supply them with speakers and writers worth their attention. Farewell.
Celer, a Roman knight, was accused of having an affair with her. While they were whipping him with rods in the Forum, he kept shouting, "What have I done? I haven’t done anything." His claims of innocence really angered Domitian because they suggested he was being cruel and unjust. As a result, Licinianus was arrested by the emperor for hiding one of Cornelia's freedwomen on his estate. Those in charge of him advised him to confess if he wanted a lighter punishment. Additionally, a young nobleman, whose tunic had been ripped—just a normal incident in a crowd—stood there with his gown draped over him to listen to me. Even though I spoke for seven hours, my success outweighed the exhaustion from such a long address. So let's get to work and not hide our laziness behind the excuse of public disinterest. Rest assured, there will always be listeners and readers as long as we can provide speakers and writers who are worth their attention. Goodbye.
XLV — To ASINIUS
You advise me, nay you entreat me, to undertake, in her absence, the cause of Corellia, against C. Caecilius, consul elect. For your advice I am grateful, of your entreaty I really must complain; without the first, indeed, I should have been ignorant of this affair, but the last was unnecessary, as I need no solicitations to comply, where it would be ungenerous in me to refuse; for can I hesitate a moment to take upon myself the protection of a daughter of Corellius? It is true, indeed, though there is no particular intimacy between her adversary and myself, still we are upon good enough terms. It is also true that he is a person of rank, and one who has a high claim upon my especial regard, as destined to enter upon an office which I have had the honour to fill; and it is natural for a man to be desirous those dignities should be held in the highest esteem which he himself once possessed. Yet all these considerations appear indifferent and trifling when I reflect that it is the daughter of Corellius whom I am to defend. The memory of that excellent person, than whom this age has not produced a man of greater dignity, rectitude, and acuteness, is indelibly imprinted upon my mind. My regard for him sprang from my admiration of the man, and contrary to what is usually the case, my admiration increased upon a thorough knowledge of him, and indeed I did know him thoroughly, for he kept nothing back from me, whether gay or serious, sad or joyous. When he was but a youth, he esteemed, and (I will even venture to say) revered, me as if I had been his equal. When I solicited any post of honour, he supported me with his interest, and recommended me with his testimony; when I entered upon it, he was my introducer and my companion; when I exercised it, he was my guide and my counsellor. In a word, whenever my interest was concerned, he exerted himself, in spite of his weakness and declining years, with as much alacrity as though he were still young and lusty. In private, in public, and at court, how often has he advanced and supported my credit and interest! It happened once that the conversation, in the presence of the emperor Nerva, turned upon the promising young men of that time, and several of the company present were pleased to mention me with applause; he sat for a little while silent, which gave what he said the greater weight; and then, with that air of dignity, to which you are no stranger, "I must be reserved," said he, "in my praises of Pliny, because he does nothing without advice." By which single sentence he bestowed upon me more than my most extravagant wishes could aspire to, as he represented my conduct to be always such as wisdom must approve, since it was wholly under the direction of one of the wisest of men. Even in his last moments he said to his daughter (as she often mentions), "I have in the course of a long life raised up many friends to you, but there are none in whom you may more assuredly confide than Pliny and Cornutus." A circumstance I cannot reflect upon without being deeply sensible how incumbent it is upon me to endeavour not to disappoint the confidence so excellent a judge of human nature reposed in me. I shall therefore most readily give my assistance to Corellia in this affair, and willingly risk any displeasure I may incur by appearing in her behalf. Though I should imagine, if in the course of my pleadings I should find an opportunity to explain and enforce more fully and at large than the limits of a letter allow of the reasons I have here mentioned, upon which I rest at once my apology and my glory; her adversary (whose suit may perhaps, as you say, be entirely without precedent, as it is against a woman) will not only excuse, but approve, my conduct. Farewell.
You advise me, and even urge me, to take up the cause of Corellia in her absence against C. Caecilius, the consul-elect. I appreciate your advice, but I must express my concern about your urging; without the first, I would have been unaware of this situation, but the latter was not needed, as I won’t need prompting to help when it would be wrong to refuse. How could I hesitate for even a moment to protect the daughter of Corellius? It’s true that while there isn’t a close relationship between me and her opponent, we do get along well enough. It’s also true that he holds a high position and deserves my respect, especially since he’s about to take on an office I once held. Naturally, one would want those dignities they once held in high regard to be respected. However, these considerations seem trivial when I think about defending the daughter of Corellius. The memory of that remarkable man, who was the finest example of dignity, integrity, and intelligence of our time, is forever in my mind. My admiration for him grew deeper the more I got to know him, as he shared everything with me—his joys and sorrows. Even as a young man, he regarded and (I dare say) respected me as an equal. Whenever I sought a position of honor, he backed me up with his support and recommended me. When I stepped into that role, he introduced and accompanied me; while I fulfilled it, he guided and advised me. In summary, whenever my interests were at stake, he put in effort despite his age and frailty, as if he were still young and strong. In private, in public, and at court, he often promoted my reputation and helped me. Once, in front of Emperor Nerva, the conversation turned to the promising young men of the time, and several people mentioned me positively. He sat quietly for a moment, which gave greater weight to what he said, and then, with that dignified air you know well, he said, "I must be cautious in my praise of Pliny because he always acts with guidance." With that one sentence, he gave me more than I ever hoped for, as he portrayed my actions as wise, being guided by one of the wisest men. Even in his last moments, he told his daughter (as she often recalls), "Throughout my long life, I have made many friends for you, but there are none you can trust more than Pliny and Cornutus." I cannot think about this without feeling the deep responsibility to not let down the faith that such an excellent judge of character placed in me. Therefore, I will gladly support Corellia in this matter and willingly face any displeasure that might come from standing up for her. I believe that if I find an opportunity during my arguments to explain my reasons, which serve as both my defense and my pride, her opponent (whose case may be unprecedented, as you mentioned, being against a woman) will not only excuse but also approve of my actions. Farewell.
XLVI — To HISPULLA
As you are a model of all virtue, and loved your late excellent brother, who had such a fondness for you, with an affection equal to his own; regarding too his daughter[72] as your child, not only shewing her an aunt's tenderness but supplying the place of the parent she had lost; I know it will give you the greatest pleasure and joy to hear that she proves worthy of her father, her grandfather, and yourself. She possesses an excellent understanding together with a consummate prudence, and gives the strongest evidence of the purity of her heart by her fondness of her husband. Her affection for me, moreover, has given her a taste for books, and my productions, which she takes a pleasure in reading, and even in getting by heart, are continually in her hands. How full of tender anxiety is she when I am going to speak in any case, how rejoiced she feels when it is got through. While I am pleading, she stations persons to inform her from time to time how I am heard, what applauses I receive, and what success attends the case. When I recite my works at any time, she conceals herself behind some curtain, and drinks in my praises with greedy ears. She sings my verses too, adapting them to her lyre, with no other master but love, that best of instructors, for her guide. From these happy circumstances I derive my surest hopes, that the harmony between us will increase with our days, and be as lasting as our lives. For it is not my youth or person, which time gradually impairs; it is my honour and glory that she cares for. But what less could be expected from one who was trained by your hands, and formed by your instructions; who was early familiarized under your roof with all that is pure and virtuous, and who learnt to love me first through your praises? And as you revered my mother with all the respect due even to a parent, so you kindly directed and encouraged my tender years, presaging from that early period all that my wife now fondly imagines I really am. Accept therefore of our mutual thanks, mine, for your giving me her, hers for your giving her me; for you have chosen us out, as it were, for each other. Farewell.
As you are the epitome of virtue and loved your late wonderful brother, who was so fond of you with an affection equal to his own; considering his daughter[72] as your own child, not just showing her an aunt's affection but also stepping in as the parent she lost; I know it will bring you immense joy to hear that she is truly worthy of her father, her grandfather, and you. She has an excellent mind paired with great wisdom, and she shows her pure heart through her love for her husband. Her feelings for me have sparked her interest in books, and my works, which she enjoys reading and even memorizing, are always in her hands. She’s filled with tender anxiety when I’m about to speak on any matter and feels relieved when it's over. While I’m presenting, she has people checking in to tell her how I’m being received, what applause I get, and how the case is going. When I recite my works, she hides behind a curtain, eagerly soaking in my praises. She also sings my verses, setting them to her lyre, guided only by love, the best teacher. From these joyful circumstances, I have my strongest hopes that our bond will grow deeper with time and last as long as our lives. It’s not my youth or appearance, which time gradually affects; it’s my honor and reputation that she cares about. But what less could be expected from someone trained by you, shaped by your teachings; someone who was raised under your roof, surrounded by what is pure and virtuous, and who learned to love me first through your praises? Just as you respected my mother with all the honor due to a parent, you also guided and encouraged my early years, foreseeing all that my wife now lovingly believes I am. So, please accept our mutual thanks: mine for your giving me her, and hers for your giving her to me; you have brought us together as if you chose us for one another. Goodbye.
XLVII — To ROMATIUS FIASIUS
Look here! The next time the court sits, you must, at all events, take your place there. In vain would your indolence repose itself under my protection, for there is no absenting oneself with impunity. Look at that severe, determined, praetor, Licinius Nepos, who fined even a senator for the same neglect! The senator pleaded his cause in person, but in suppliant tone. The fine, it is true, was remitted, but sore was his dismay, humble his intercession, and he had to ask pardon. "All praetors are not so severe as that," you will reply; you are mistaken — for though indeed to be the author and reviver of an example of this kind may be an act of severity, yet, once introduced, even lenity herself may follow the precedent. Farewell.
Listen up! The next time the court meets, you absolutely have to be there. It's useless to think you can relax while I cover for you, because skipping out won’t go unpunished. Just look at that strict, resolute praetor, Licinius Nepos, who even fined a senator for the same neglect! The senator defended himself in person, but in a pleading way. True, the fine was canceled, but he was deeply shaken, very humble in his appeal, and had to ask for forgiveness. "Not all praetors are that harsh," you might say; but you're wrong—because while it may seem strict to set such an example, once it's established, even the most lenient can follow suit. Take care.
XLVIII — To LICINIUS SURA
I HAVE brought you as a little present out of the country a query which well deserves the consideration of your extensive knowledge. There is a spring which rises in a neighbouring mountain, and running among the rocks is received into a little banqueting-room, artificially formed for that purpose, from whence, after being detained a short time, it falls into the Larian lake. The nature of this spring is extremely curious; it ebbs and flows regularly three times a day. The increase and decrease is plainly visible, and exceedingly interesting to observe. You sit down by the side of the fountain, and while you are taking a repast and drinking its water, which is extremely cool, you see it gradually rise and fall. If you place a ring, or anything else at the bottom, when it is dry, the water creeps gradually up, first gently washing, finally covering it entirely, and then little by little subsides again. If you wait long enough, you may see it thus alternately advance and recede three successive times. Shall we say that some secret current of air stops and opens the fountain-head, first rushing in and checking the flow and then, driven back by the counter-resistance of the water, escaping again; as we see in bottles, and other vessels of that nature, where, there not being a free and open passage, though you turn their necks perpendicularly or obliquely downwards, yet, the outward air obstructing the vent, they discharge their contents as it were by starts? Or, may not this small collection of water be successively contracted and enlarged upon the same principle as the ebb and flow of the sea? Or, again, as those rivers which discharge themselves into the sea, meeting with contrary winds and the swell of the ocean, are forced back in their channels, so, in the same way, may there not be something that checks this fountain, for a time, in its progress? Or is there rather a certain reservoir that contains these waters in the bowels of the earth, and while it is recruiting its discharges, the stream in consequence flows more slowly and in less quantity, but, when it has collected its due measure, runs on again in its usual strength and fulness? Or lastly, is there I know not what kind of subterranean counterpoise, that throws up the water when the fountain is dry, and keeps it back when it is full? You, who are so well qualified for the enquiry, will examine into the causes of this wonderful phenomenon; it will be sufficient for me if I have given you an adequate description of it. Farewell.
I’ve brought you a little gift from the country—a question that truly deserves your thoughtful consideration. There’s a spring that rises in a nearby mountain, and as it flows among the rocks, it’s directed into a small dining area created for that purpose, from where it eventually flows into Lake Lario after a short pause. The nature of this spring is quite fascinating; it rises and falls predictably three times a day. The changes are clearly visible and incredibly interesting to watch. You can sit by the fountain, enjoy a meal, and drink its refreshingly cool water as you observe it gradually rise and fall. If you place a ring or anything else at the bottom when it’s dry, the water slowly creeps up, first gently washing over it, completely covering it, and then gradually receding again. If you wait long enough, you’ll see it alternately rise and lower three times in a row. Could it be that some hidden air current opens and closes the source of the spring, rushing in to stop the flow and then, pushed back by the water’s resistance, escaping once more? Similar to how bottles and other containers work, which, lacking a clear outlet, release their contents in bursts when tilted either upright or downward thanks to the exterior air blocking the vent? Or could this small pool of water be contracting and expanding based on the same principle as the ebb and flow of the sea? Or, much like rivers that flow into the sea, but are pushed back by contrary winds and ocean swells, might there be something that temporarily hinders this fountain’s flow? Alternatively, is there a reservoir beneath the earth that holds this water, causing it to flow more slowly and in smaller amounts while it gathers enough before returning to its usual strength and volume? Lastly, is there some unknown subterranean force that raises the water when the fountain is dry and holds it back when it’s full? You, with your expertise, will investigate the causes of this amazing phenomenon; for me, it’s enough to have provided you with a thorough description of it. Farewell.
XLIX — To ANNIUS SEVERUS
A SMALL legacy was lately left me, yet one more acceptable than a far larger bequest would have been. How more acceptable than a far larger one? In this way. Pomponia Gratilla, having disinherited her son Assidius Curianus, appointed me of one of her heirs, and Sertorius Severus, of pretorian rank, together with several eminent Roman knights, co-heirs along with me. The son applied to me to give him my share of the inheritance, in order to use my name as an example to the rest of the joint-heirs, but offered at the same time to enter into a secret agreement to return me my proportion. I told him, it was by no means agreeable to my character to seem to act one way while in reality I was acting another, besides it was not quite honourable making presents to a man of his fortune, who had no children; in a word, this would not at all answer the purpose at which he was aiming, whereas, if I were to withdraw my claim, it might be of some service to him, and this I was ready and willing to do, if he could clearly prove to me that he was unjustly disinherited.
I recently received a small inheritance, but it's actually more valuable to me than a much larger one would have been. How is it more valuable? Here's how: Pomponia Gratilla, having cut her son Assidius Curianus out of her will, named me as one of her heirs. Sertorius Severus, a man of pretorian rank, along with several distinguished Roman knights, was also named as a co-heir with me. The son approached me to ask if I could give him my share of the inheritance, so he could use my name to influence the other co-heirs. He also suggested a secret deal to pay me back my portion. I told him it wasn't in my nature to pretend to go along with something while actually doing the opposite. Additionally, it felt dishonorable to give gifts to someone like him, who had no children and was in a comfortable position. In short, this wouldn't help him achieve his goal. However, I was willing to withdraw my claim if he could convincingly show me that he was unfairly disinherited.
"Do then," he said, "be my arbitrator in this case." After a short pause I answered him, "I will, for I don't see why I should not have as good an opinion of my own impartial disinterestedness as you seem to have. But, mind, I am not to be prevailed upon to decide the point in question against your mother, if it should appear she had just reason for what she has done." "As you please," he replied, "which I am sure is always to act according to justice." I called in, as my assistants, Corellius and Frontinus, two of the very best lawyers Rome at that time afforded. With these in attendance, I heard the case in my own chamber. Curianus said everything which he thought would favour his pretensions, to whom (there being nobody but myself to defend the character of the deceased) I made a short reply; after which I retired with my friends to deliberate, and, being agreed upon our verdict, I said to him, "Curianus, it is our opinion that your conduct has justly drawn upon you your mother's displeasure." Sometime afterwards, Curianus commenced a suit in the Court of the Hundred against all the co-heirs except myself. The day appointed for the trial approaching, the rest of the co-heirs were anxious to compromise the affair and have done with it, not out of any diffidence of their cause, but from a distrust of the times. They were apprehensive of what had happened to many others, happening to them, and that from a civil suit it might end in a criminal one, as there were some among them to whom the friendship of Gratilla and Rusticus[73] might be extremely prejudicial: they therefore desired me to go and talk with Curianus. We met in the temple of Concord; "Now supposing," I said, "your mother had left you the fourth part of her estate, or even suppose she had made you sole heir, but had exhausted so much of the estate in legacies that there would not be more than a fourth part remaining to you, could you justly complain? You ought to be content, therefore, if, being absolutely disinherited as you are, the heirs are willing to relinquish to you a fourth part, which however I will increase by contributing my proportion. You know you did not commence any suit against me, and two years have now elapsed, which gives me legal and indisputable possession. But to induce you to agree to the proposals on the part of the other co-heirs, and that you may be no sufferer by the peculiar respect you shew me, I offer to advance my proportion with them." The silent approval of my own conscience is not the only result out of this transaction; it has contributed also to the honour of my character. For it is this same Cunianus who has left me the legacy I have mentioned in the beginning of my letter, and I received it as a very notable mark of his approbation of my conduct, if I do not flatter myself. I have written and told you all this, because in all my joys and sorrows I am wont to look upon you as myself, and I thought it would be unkind not to communicate to so tender a friend whatever occasions me a sensible gratification; for I am not philosopher enough to be indifferent, when I think I have acted like an honour-able man, whether my actions meet with that approval which is in some sort their due. Farewell.
"Then, please," he said, "be my mediator in this matter." After a brief pause, I replied, "I will, as I don't see why I shouldn't have as much confidence in my own impartiality as you seem to have. But remember, I won't be persuaded to rule against your mother if it turns out she had good reason for her actions." "As you wish," he responded, "which I’m sure means always acting according to justice." I called in two of the best lawyers in Rome at that time, Corellius and Frontinus, as my assistants. With them present, I heard the case in my own office. Curianus presented everything he thought would support his claims, to which I made a brief reply, having no one else to defend the deceased's reputation. After that, I retired with my friends to deliberate, and after reaching a consensus on our verdict, I said to him, "Curianus, we believe your actions have justly earned your mother's displeasure." Later on, Curianus filed a lawsuit in the Court of the Hundred against all the co-heirs except me. As the trial date approached, the other co-heirs were eager to settle the matter and move on, not because they doubted their case, but due to a general distrust of the current times. They feared that what had happened to many others could happen to them, and that a civil suit might turn into a criminal one, especially since some among them had connections to Gratilla and Rusticus that could be quite harmful. They asked me to speak with Curianus. We met in the temple of Concord; "Now suppose," I said, "your mother had left you a quarter of her estate, or even if she had named you her sole heir but spent so much on legacies that only a quarter remained for you, would you really have grounds to complain? You should be grateful, then, if you, being completely disinherited, the heirs are willing to give you a quarter, which I will also boost by adding my share. You know you haven’t sued me, and two years have passed, which grants me legal and undeniable possession. But to encourage you to accept what the other co-heirs are offering, and to make sure you don’t feel disadvantaged because of the special regard you show me, I’m willing to contribute my share along with them." The silent approval of my conscience isn’t the only benefit from this arrangement; it has also enhanced my reputation. For it’s this same Curianus who has left me the legacy I mentioned at the beginning of my letter, which I took as a significant acknowledgment of my conduct, if I’m not deluding myself. I’ve written all this because in both my joys and sorrows, I tend to view you as part of myself, and I thought it would be inconsiderate not to share with such a cherished friend anything that brings me genuine pleasure; I’m not quite philosophical enough to remain indifferent when I believe I’ve acted honorably, particularly if my actions deserve some recognition. Take care.
L — To TITIUS ARISTO
AMONG the many agreeable and obliging instances I have received of your friendship, your not concealing from me the long conversations which lately took place at your house concerning my verses, and the various judgments passed upon them (which served to prolong the talk,) is by no means the least. There were some, it seems, who did not disapprove of my poems in themselves, but at the same time censured me in a free and friendly way, for employing myself in composing and reciting them. I am so far, however, from desiring to extenuate the charge that I willingly acknowledge myself still more deserving of it, and confess that I sometimes amuse myself with writing verses of the gayer sort. I compose comedies, divert myself with pantomimes, read the lyric poets, and enter into the spirit of the most wanton muse, besides that, I indulge myself sometimes in laughter, mirth, and frolic, and, to sum up every kind of innocent relaxation in one word, I am a man. I am not in the least offended, though, at their low opinion of my morals, and that those who are ignorant of the fact that the most learned, the wisest, and the best of men have employed themselves in the same way, should be surprised at the tone of my writings: but from those who know what noble and numerous examples I follow, I shall, I am confident, easily obtain permission to err with those whom it is an honour to imitate, not only in their most serious occupations but their lightest triflings. Is it unbecoming me (I will not name any living example, lest I should seem to flatter), but is it unbecoming me to practise what became Tully, Calvus, Pollio, Messala, Hortensius, Brutus, Sulla, Catulus, Scaevola, Sulpitius, Varro, the Torquati, Memmius, Gaetulicus, Seneca, Lucceius, and, within our own memory, Verginius Rufus? But if the examples of private men are not sufficient to justify me, I can cite Julius Casar, Augustus, Nerva, and Tiberius Casar. I forbear to add Nero to the catalogue, though I am aware that what is practised by the worst of men does not therefore degenerate into wrong: on the contrary, it still maintains its credit, if frequently countenanced by the best. In that number, Virgil, Cornelius Nepos, and prior to these, Ennius and Attius, justly deserve the most distinguished place. These last indeed were not senators, but goodness knows no distinction of rank or title. I recite my works, it is true, and in this instance I am not sure I can support myself by their examples. They, perhaps, might be satisfied with their own judgment, but I have too humble an opinion of mine to suppose my compositions perfect, because they appear so to my own mind. My reason then for reciting are, that, for one thing, there is a certain deference for one's audience, which excites a somewhat more vigorous application, and then again, I have by this means an opportunity of settling any doubts I may have concerning my performance, by observing the general opinion of the audience. In a word, I have the advantage of receiving different hints from different persons: and although they should not declare their meaning in express terms, yet the expression of the countenance, the movement of the head, the eyes, the motion of a hand, a whisper, or even silence itself will easily distinguish their real opinion from the language of politeness. And so if any one of my audience should have the curiosity to read over the same performance which he heard me read, he may find several things altered or omitted, and perhaps too upon his particular judgment, though he did not say a single word to me. But I am not defending my conduct in this particular, as if I had actually recited my works in public, and not in my own house before my friends, a numerous appearance of whom has upon many occasions been held an honour, but never, surely, a reproach. Farewell.
AMONG the many kind and helpful gestures of your friendship, one of the most appreciated is that you didn't hide from me the lengthy discussions that recently took place at your house about my poems, along with the various opinions shared about them (which helped extend the conversation). It seems that some people didn’t dislike my poems in themselves but still freely and kindly criticized me for spending my time writing and reciting them. However, I don’t want to downplay this charge—on the contrary, I willingly admit that I am even more deserving of it, and I confess that I sometimes enjoy writing lighter verses. I write comedies, participate in pantomimes, read poets of lyrical works, and embrace the more playful muse; besides that, I indulge in laughter, joy, and fun—basically, I’m just a human. I’m not at all offended by their low opinion of my character, and I understand that those unaware that the wisest, most learned, and best people have done the same might be surprised by the tone of my writings. However, I’m confident that from those who know what noble and numerous examples I follow, I will easily gain the approval to err alongside those whom it’s an honor to emulate, not just in their serious pursuits but also in their lightest pastimes. Is it inappropriate for me (I won’t mention any living examples to avoid flattery) to do what suited Tully, Calvus, Pollio, Messala, Hortensius, Brutus, Sulla, Catulus, Scaevola, Sulpitius, Varro, the Torquati, Memmius, Gaetulicus, Seneca, Lucceius, and, in our own memory, Verginius Rufus? But if private examples don't justify me, I can cite Julius Caesar, Augustus, Nerva, and Tiberius Caesar. I hesitate to include Nero in this list, even though I know that what the worst men do doesn’t make it wrong; on the contrary, it still holds its value, especially when supported by the best. Among those, Virgil, Cornelius Nepos, and before them, Ennius and Attius, rightly deserve prominent mention. True, they were not senators, but goodness knows no distinction of rank or title. I do recite my works, and I’m not sure I can support myself with their examples. They might have been satisfied with their own judgment, but I have too low an opinion of mine to think my writings are perfect just because they seem so to me. My reasons for reciting are that, firstly, there is a certain respect for the audience that encourages a bit more focused effort, and also, this gives me a chance to clarify any doubts I might have about my performance by watching the audience's general reaction. In short, I gain insights from various people: and even if they don’t express their thoughts explicitly, their facial expressions, head movements, eye gestures, hand motions, whispers, or even silence can easily reveal their true opinions beyond just polite words. So if any audience member decides to read over the same piece they heard me recite, they might notice several things changed or omitted, perhaps based on their own views, even if they didn’t say a word to me. But I'm not justifying my actions as if I had given a public recital; I performed in my own home among friends, and the large presence of these friends has often been seen as an honor, but surely never as a shame. Farewell.
LI — To NONIUS MAXIMUS
I AM deeply afflicted with the news I have received of the death of Fannius; in the first place, because I loved one so eloquent and refined, in the next, because I was accustomed to be guided by his judgment—and indeed he possessed great natural acuteness, improved by practice, rendering him able to see a thing in an instant. There are some circumstances about his death, which aggravate my concern. He left behind him a will which had been made a considerable time before his decease, by which it happens that his estate is fallen into the hands of those who had incurred his displeasure, whilst his greatest favourites are excluded. But what I particularly regret is, that he has left unfinished a very noble work in which he was employed. Notwithstanding his full practice at the bar, he had begun a history of those persons who were put to death or banished by Nero, and completed three books of it. They are written with great elegance and precision, the style is pure, and preserves a proper medium between the plain narrative and the historical: and as they were very favourably received by the public, he was the more desirous of being able to finish the rest. The hand of death is ever, in my opinion, too untimely and sudden when it falls upon such as are employed in some immortal work. The sons of sensuality, who have no outlook beyond the present hour, put an end every day to all motives for living, but those who look forward to posterity, and endeavour to transmit their names with honour to future generations by their works—to such, death is always immature, as it still snatches them from amidst some unfinished design. Fannius, long before his death, had a presentiment of what has happened: he dreamed one night that as he was lying on his couch, in an undress, all ready for his work, and with his desk,[74] as usual, in front of him, Nero entered, and placing himself by his side, took up the three first books of this history, which he read through and then departed. This dream greatly alarmed him, and he regarded it as an intimation, that he should not carry on his history any farther than Nero had read, and so the event has proved. I cannot reflect upon this accident without lamenting that he was prevented from accomplishing a work which had cost him so many toilsome vigils, as it suggests to me, at the same time, reflections on my own mortality, and the fate of my writings: and I am persuaded the same apprehensions alarm you for those in which you are at present employed. Let us then, my friend, while life permits, exert all our endeavours, that death, whenever it arrives, may find as little as possible to destroy. Farewell.
I am deeply saddened by the news of Fannius's death. Firstly, because I loved someone so eloquent and refined, and secondly, because I often relied on his judgment—he had a natural sharpness that was enhanced by experience, allowing him to grasp things instantly. There are certain aspects of his death that intensify my sorrow. He left behind a will that he made a long time before he passed away, which means his estate has gone to those who displeased him, while his closest friends are excluded. What troubles me most is that he left unfinished a very important work he was working on. Despite his busy life at the bar, he had begun a history of those who were executed or exiled by Nero and completed three books. They are written with great elegance and precision, with a clear style that strikes a balance between simple narrative and historical account. Since the public received them very positively, he was eager to finish the rest. I believe death always feels too sudden and premature when it takes someone away from an important, lasting project. Those who indulge in the present and have no vision beyond the moment end every day any reason to live, but for those who aspire to be remembered and honorably pass their names to future generations through their work, death always feels untimely, as it interrupts them in the middle of some unfinished plan. Fannius had a sense of his fate long before his death: one night he dreamt that while lying on his couch, casually ready to work, with his desk in front of him, Nero entered, sat beside him, picked up the first three books of his history, read through them, and then left. This dream deeply unsettled him, and he interpreted it as a sign that he wouldn't continue his history beyond what Nero had read, which has indeed turned out to be true. I can’t think about this incident without mourning the fact that he was unable to complete a work that took him so many sleepless nights, as it also makes me reflect on my own mortality and the fate of my writings. I’m sure you share the same worries about your current projects. So let’s, my friend, while we still can, dedicate ourselves to our work, so that when death comes, there’s as little as possible left for it to take away. Farewell.
LII — To DOMITIUS APOLLINARIS
THE kind concern you expressed on hearing of my design to pass the summer at my villa in Tuscany, and your obliging endeavours to dissuade me from going to a place which you think unhealthy, are extremely pleasing to me. It is quite true indeed that the air of that part of Tuscany which lies towards the coast is thick and unwholesome: but my house stands at a good distance from the sea, under one of the Apennines which are singularly healthy. But, to relieve you from all anxiety on my account, I will give you a description of the temperature of the climate, the situation of the country, and the beauty of my villa, which, I am persuaded, you will hear with as much pleasure as I shall take in giving it. The air in winter is sharp and frosty, so that myrtles, olives, and trees of that kind which delight in constant warmth, will not flourish here: but the laurel thrives, and is remarkably beautiful, though now and then the cold kills it—though not oftener than it does in the neighbourhood of Rome. The summers are extraordinarily mild, and there is always a refreshing breeze, seldom high winds. This accounts for the number of old men we have about, you would see grandfathers and great-grandfathers of those now grown up to be young men, hear old stories and the dialect of our ancestors, and fancy yourself born in some former age were you to come here. The character of the country is exceedingly beautiful. Picture to yourself an immense amphitheatre, such as nature only could create. Before you lies a broad, extended plain bounded by a range of mountains, whose summits are covered with tall and ancient woods, which are stocked with all kinds of game.
Your genuine concern when you heard about my plans to spend the summer at my villa in Tuscany, along with your kind attempts to talk me out of going to a place you believe is unhealthy, means a lot to me. It's true that the air in that part of Tuscany by the coast is thick and unhealthy, but my house is situated at a good distance from the sea, at the foot of one of the Apennines, which are quite healthy. To ease your worries about me, I'll describe the climate, the landscape, and the beauty of my villa, which I believe you will enjoy hearing about as much as I enjoy sharing it. The winter air is sharp and frosty, so plants like myrtles, olives, and other warmth-loving trees don't thrive here. However, the laurel grows beautifully, although sometimes the cold does kill it, but not more often than it happens near Rome. The summers are exceptionally mild, always with a refreshing breeze and rarely strong winds. This helps explain why we have so many elderly people around; you’d see grandfathers and great-grandfathers of the young men today, listen to old stories and our ancestors’ dialect, and feel as if you were born in a different time if you came here. The landscape is incredibly beautiful. Imagine a vast amphitheater that only nature could create. Before you stretches a wide, open plain bordered by a range of mountains topped with tall, ancient forests filled with all kinds of wildlife.
The descending slopes of the mountains are planted with underwood, among which are a number of little risings with a rich soil, on which hardly a stone is to be found. In fruitfulness they are quite equal to a valley, and though their harvest is rather later, their crops are just as good. At the foot of these, on the mountain-side, the eye, wherever it turns, runs along one unbroken stretch of vineyards terminated by a belt of shrubs. Next you have meadows and the open plain. The arable land is so stiff that it is necessary to go over it nine times with the biggest oxen and the strongest ploughs. The meadows are bright with flowers, and produce trefoil and other kinds of herbage as fine and tender as if it were but just sprung up, for all the soil is refreshed by never failing streams. But though there is plenty of water, there are no marshes; for the ground being on a slope, whatever water it receives without absorbing runs off into the Tiber. This river, which winds through the middle of the meadows, is navigable only in the winter and spring, at which seasons it transports the produce of the lands to Rome: but in summer it sinks below its banks, leaving the name of a great river to an almost empty channel: towards the autumn, however, it begins again to renew its claim to that title. You would be charmed by taking a view of this country from the top of one of our neighbouring mountains, and would fancy that not a real, but some imaginary landscape, painted by the most exquisite pencil, lay before you, such an harmonious variety of beautiful objects meets the eye, whichever way it turns. My house, although at the foot of a hill, commands as good a view as if it stood on its brow, yet you approach by so gentle and gradual a rise that you find yourself on high ground without perceiving you have been making an ascent. Behind, but at a great distance, is the Apennine range. In the calmest days we get cool breezes from that quarter, not sharp and cutting at all, being spent and broken by the long distance they have travelled. The greater part of the house has a southern aspect, and seems to invite the afternoon sun in summer (but rather earlier in the winter) into a broad and proportionately long portico, consisting of several rooms, particularly a court of antique fashion. In front of the portico is a sort of terrace, edged with box and shrubs cut into different shapes. You descend, from the terrace, by an easy slope adorned with the figures of animals in box, facing each other, to a lawn overspread with the soft, I had almost said the liquid, Acanthus: this is surrounded by a walk enclosed with evergreens, shaped into a variety of forms. Beyond it is the gestation laid out in the form of a circus running round the multiform box-hedge and the dwarf-trees, which are cut quite close. The whole is fenced in with a wall completely covered by box cut into steps all the way up to the top. On the outside of the wall lies a meadow that owes as many beauties to nature as all I have been describing within does to art; at the end of which are open plain and numerous other meadows and copses. From the extremity of the portico a large dining-room runs out, opening upon one end of the terrace, while from the windows there is a very extensive view over the meadows up into the country, and from these you also see the terrace and the projecting wing of the house together with the woods enclosing the adjacent hippodrome. Almost opposite the centre of the portico, and rather to the back, stands a summer-house, enclosing a small area shaded by four plane-trees, in the midst of which rises a marble fountain which gently plays upon the roots of the plane-trees and upon the grass-plots underneath them. This summer-house has a bed-room in it free from every sort of noise, and which the light itself cannot penetrate, together with a common dining-room I use when I have none but intimate friends with me. A second portico looks upon this little area, and has the same view as the other I have just been describing. There is, besides, another room, which, being situate close to the nearest plane-tree, enjoys a constant shade and green. Its sides are encrusted with carved marble up to the ceiling, while above the marble a foliage is painted with birds among the branches, which has an effect altogether as agreeable as that of the carving, at the foot of which a little fountain, playing through several small pipes into a vase it encloses, produces a most pleasing murmur. From a corner of the portico you enter a very large bed-chamber opposite the large dining-room, which from some of its windows has a view of the terrace, and from others, of the meadow, as those in the front look upon a cascade, which entertains at once both the eye and the ear; for the water, dashing from a great height, foams over the marble basin which receives it below. This room is extremely warm in winter, lying much exposed to the sun, and on a cloudy day the heat of an adjoining stove very well supplies his absence. Leaving this room, you pass through a good-sized, pleasant, undressing-room into the cold-bath-room, in which is a large gloomy bath: but if you are inclined to swim more at large, or in warmer water, in the middle of the area stands a wide basin for that purpose, and near it a reservoir from which you may be supplied with cold water to brace yourself again, if you should find you are too much relaxed by the warm. Adjoining the cold bath is one of a medium degree of heat, which enjoys the kindly warmth of the sun, but not so intensely as the hot bath, which projects farther. This last consists of three several compartments, each of different degrees of heat; the two former lie open to the full sun, the latter, though not much exposed to its heat, receives an equal share of its light. Over the undressing-room is built the tennis-court, which admits of different kinds of games and different sets of players. Not far from the baths is the staircase leading to the enclosed portico, three rooms intervening. One of these looks out upon the little area with the four plane-trees round it, the other upon the meadows, and from the third you have a view of several vineyards, so that each has a different one, and looks towards a different point of the heavens. At the upper end of the enclosed portico, and indeed taken off from it, is a room that looks out upon the hippodrome, the vineyards, and the mountains; adjoining is a room which has a full exposure to the sun, especially in winter, and out of which runs another connecting the hippodrome with the house. This forms the front. On the side rises an enclosed portico, which not only looks out upon the vineyards, but seems almost to touch them. From the middle of this portico you enter a dining-room cooled by the wholesome breezes from the Apennine valleys: from the windows behind, which are extremely large, there is a close view of the vineyards, and from the folding doors through the summer portico. Along that side of the dining-room where there are no windows runs a private staircase for greater convenience in serving up when I give an entertainment; at the farther end is a sleeping-room with a look-out upon the vineyards, and (what is equally agreeable) the portico. Underneath this room is an enclosed portico resembling a grotto, which, enjoying in the midst of summer heats its own natural coolness, neither admits nor wants external air. After you have passed both these porticoes, at the end of the dining-room stands a third, which according as the day is more or less advanced, serves either for Winter or summer use. It leads to two different apartments, one containing four chambers, the other, three, which enjoy by turns both sun and shade. This arrangement of the different parts of my house is exceedingly pleasant, though it is not to be compared with the beauty of the hippodrome,' lying entirely open in the middle of the grounds, so that the eye, upon your first entrance, takes it in entire in one view. It is set round with plane-trees covered with ivy, so that, while their tops flourish with their own green, towards the roots their verdure is borrowed from the ivy that twines round the trunk and branches, spreads from tree to tree, and connects them together. Between each plane-tree are planted box-trees, and behind these stands a grove of laurels which blend their shade with that of the planes. This straight boundary to the hippodrome[75] alters its shape at the farther end, bending into a semicircle, which is planted round, shut in with cypresses, and casts a deeper and gloomier shade, while the inner circular walks (for there are several), enjoying an open exposure, are filled with plenty of roses, and correct, by a very pleasant contrast, the coolness of the shade with the warmth of the sun. Having passed through these several winding alleys, you enter a straight walk, which breaks out into a variety of others, partitioned off by box-row hedges. In one place you have a little meadow, in another the box is cut in a thousand different forms, sometimes into letters, expressing the master's name, sometimes the artificer's, whilst here and there rise little obelisks with fruit-trees alternately intermixed, and then on a sudden, in the midst of this elegant regularity, you are surprised with an imitation of the negligent beauties of rural nature. In the centre of this lies a spot adorned with a knot of dwarf plane-trees. Beyond these stands an acacia, smooth and bending in places, then again various other shapes and names. At the upper end is an alcove of white marble, shaded with vines and supported by four small Carystian columns. From this semicircular couch, the water, gushing up through several little pipes, as though pressed out by the weight of the persons who recline themselves upon it, falls into a stone cistern underneath, from whence it is received into a fine polished marble basin, so skilfully contrived that it is always full without ever overflowing. When I sup here, this basin serves as a table, the larger sort of dishes being placed round the margin, while the smaller ones swim about in the form of vessels and water-fowl. Opposite this is a fountain which is incessantly emptying and filling, for the water which it throws up to a great height, falling back again into it, is by means of consecutive apertures returned as fast as it is received. Facing the alcove (and reflecting upon it as great an ornament as it borrows from it) stands a summer-house of exquisite marble, the doors of which project and open into a green enclosure, while from its upper and lower windows the eye falls upon a variety of different greens. Next to this is a little private closet (which, though it seems distinct, may form part of the same room), furnished with a couch, and notwithstanding it has windows on every side, yet it enjoys a very agreeable gloom, by means of a spreading vine which climbs to the top, and entirely overshadows it. Here you may lie and fancy yourself in a wood, with this only difference, that you are not exposed to the weather as you would be there. Here too a fountain rises and instantly disappears—several marble seats are set in different places, which are as pleasant as the summer-house itself after one is tired out with walking. Near each is a little fountain, and throughout the whole hippodrome several small rills run murmuring along through pipes, wherever the hand of art has thought proper to conduct them, watering here and there different plots of green, and sometimes all parts at once. I should have ended before now, for fear of being too chatty, had I not proposed in this letter to lead you into every corner of my house and gardens. Nor did I apprehend your thinking it a trouble to read the description of a place which I feel sure would please you were you to see it; especially as you can stop just when you please, and by throwing aside my letter, sit down as it were, and give yourself a rest as often as you think proper. Besides, I gave my little passion indulgence, for I have a passion for what I have built, or finished, myself. In a word, (for why should I conceal from my friend either my deliberate opinion or my prejudice?) I look upon it as the first duty of every writer to frequently glance over his title-page and consider well the subject he has proposed to himself; and he may be sure, if he dwells on his subject, he cannot justly be thought tedious, whereas if, on the contrary, he introduces and drags in anything irrelevant, he will be thought exceedingly so. Homer, you know, has employed many verses in the description of the arms of Achilles, as Virgil has also in those of Aeneas, yet neither 'of them is prolix, because they each keep within the limits of their original design. Aratus, you observe, is not considered too circumstantial, though he traces and enumerates the minutest stars, for he does not go out of his way for that purpose, but only follows where his subject leads him. In the same way (to compare small things with great), so long as, in endeavouring to give you an idea of my house, I have not introduced anything irrelevant or superfluous, it is not my letter which describes, but my villa which is described, that is to be considered large. But to return to where I began, lest I should justly be condemned by my own law, if I continue longer in this digression, you see now the reasons why I prefer my Tuscan villa to those which I possess at Tusculum, Tiber, and Praeneste.[76] Besides the advantages already mentioned, I enjoy here a cozier, more profound and undisturbed retirement than anywhere else, as I am at a greater distance from the business of the town and the interruption of troublesome clients. All is calm and composed; which circumstances contribute no less than its clear air and unclouded sky to that health of body and mind I particularly enjoy in this place, both of which I keep in full swing by study and hunting. And indeed there is no place which agrees better with my family, at least I am sure I have not yet lost one (may the expression be allowed![77]) of all those I brought here with me. And may the gods continue that happiness to me, and that honour to my villa. Farewell.
The sloping sides of the mountains are covered with underbrush, among which are several small rises with rich soil, where hardly a stone can be found. They are as fruitful as a valley, and although their harvest comes a bit later, their crops are just as good. At the base of these hills, along the mountainside, your eyes can see an uninterrupted stretch of vineyards ending with a belt of shrubs. Then there are meadows and open plains. The farmland is so hard that it requires going over it nine times with the largest oxen and the strongest plows. The meadows are bright with flowers and grow trefoil and other kinds of grass, tender and fresh as if they had just sprouted, thanks to the constantly flowing streams nourishing the soil. Although there is plenty of water, there are no marshes; the ground slopes so that any water it can't absorb drains off into the Tiber. This river, winding through the meadows, is only navigable in winter and spring, during which it transports crops to Rome. In summer, it sinks below its banks, leaving an almost empty channel behind. However, as autumn approaches, it starts to reclaim its name as a great river. You would be delighted by the view of this countryside from the top of a nearby mountain, feeling as if an imaginary landscape, painted with exquisite detail, lies before you, such is the harmonious variety of beautiful scenes that greet the eye in every direction. My house, though at the foot of a hill, offers a view as good as if it stood at its peak, and you approach it by such a gentle slope that you find yourself at higher ground without realizing you’ve been climbing. In the distance behind is the Apennine range, which gives us cool breezes on calm days—gentle and mellow after their long journey. Most of the house faces south, inviting the afternoon sun in summer (a bit earlier in winter) into a wide and proportionally long portico filled with several rooms, especially a lovely courtyard. In front of the portico is a terrace edged with boxwood and shrubs shaped into various forms. You can descend from the terrace by a gentle slope adorned with animal figures in boxwood facing each other, leading down to a lawn covered with soft Acanthus plants; this is surrounded by a path enclosed with evergreens shaped into different forms. Beyond it is the garden laid out like a circus, encircling the intricate box hedges and dwarf trees trimmed close. The entire area is bordered by a wall, entirely covered with boxwood cut into steps up to the top. Outside the wall is a meadow, as beautiful as all I’ve described inside, filled with nature’s wonders; beyond that are open fields, numerous meadows, and groves. At one end of the portico, a large dining room extends out, opening onto one end of the terrace, and from its windows, there’s an extensive view over the meadows, into the countryside, and you can also see the terrace and the protruding wing of the house along with the woods surrounding the nearby hippodrome. Almost opposite the center of the portico and a bit towards the back stands a summer house enclosing a small area shaded by four sycamore trees, with a marble fountain that gently trickles water onto the roots of the trees and the grass below. This summer house has a bedroom that’s completely quiet and dark, along with a common dining room I use when I’m entertaining only close friends. A second portico looks out at this little area and offers the same view as the other one I just described. There’s also another room, situated close to the nearest sycamore, that enjoys constant shade and greenery. Its walls are decorated with carved marble up to the ceiling, and above the marble, there's painted foliage with birds among the branches, creating an effect as pleasing as the carving, at the bottom of which is a small fountain that gently flows through several small pipes into an enclosed vase, producing a delightful sound. From a corner of the portico, you enter a large bedroom opposite the big dining room, which has views of the terrace from some windows and views of the meadow from others, as those in the front look out onto a waterfall that entertains both the eye and ear; the water cascades from a great height, tumbling into the marble basin below. This room is quite warm in winter, exposed to the sun, and on cloudy days, the heat from a nearby stove nicely compensates for the sun's absence. Leaving this room, you pass through a nicely sized, pleasant undressing room into the cold bath, which features a large, dim bath. If you wish to swim more freely or in warmer water, there’s a spacious pool in the middle of the area, along with a reservoir nearby to provide cold water to refresh yourself if the warm water makes you too relaxed. Next to the cold bath is one with a moderate degree of warmth that enjoys the gentle warmth of the sun but not as intensely as the hot bath, which extends outward. This last one consists of three compartments, each with different levels of heat; the first two are fully exposed to the sun, while the last, though not greatly heated, still receives plenty of sunlight. Above the undressing room is a tennis court that accommodates different games and players. Not far from the baths is the staircase leading to the enclosed portico, with three rooms in between. One of these looks out to the little area with the four sycamores, another overlooks the meadows, and from the third you can see several vineyards, giving each room its own unique view in a different direction. At the far end of the enclosed portico, which is actually separate from it, there’s a room that looks out over the hippodrome, the vineyards, and the mountains; next to it is a room that gets full sun, especially in winter, and from there, another room connects the hippodrome to the house. This forms the front view. To the side is an enclosed portico that not only overlooks the vineyards but seems almost to touch them. From the middle of this portico, you enter a dining room cooled by refreshing breezes from the Apennine valleys: from the exceptionally large windows behind, you have a close view of the vineyards, and through the folding doors, you can access the summer portico. Along that side of the dining room with no windows runs a private staircase for easier serving when I host events; at the far end is a bedroom with views of the vineyards and (equally delightful) of the portico. Below this room is an enclosed portico that resembles a grotto, naturally cool during the summer heat, which neither lets in nor desires outside air. After passing through both these porticoes, at the end of the dining room stands a third, which depending on the time of day, serves either for winter or summer use. It leads to two different rooms, one with four chambers, and the other with three, each enjoying alternating sun and shade. This arrangement of different parts of my house is extremely pleasant, though it cannot compare to the beauty of the hippodrome, which stands entirely open in the center of the grounds, so that when you first enter, you can see it all in one glance. It is surrounded by sycamores covered in ivy, so their tops are green while the roots are cloaked in ivy that winds around the trunks and branches, connecting the trees together. Between each sycamore are box trees planted, and behind them is a grove of laurels, blending their shade with that of the sycamores. This straight boundary of the hippodrome changes shape at the far end, bending into a semicircle, surrounded by cypress trees that create a deeper, gloomier shade, while the inner circular paths (there are several) enjoy an open exposure filled with plenty of roses, providing a pleasing contrast between the cool shade and the warmth of the sun. After wandering through these winding paths, you enter a straight path that opens into a variety of others, divided by boxwood hedges. In some spots, there’s a small meadow, in others, the boxwood is trimmed into a thousand different shapes, sometimes into letters spelling out the owner’s name, other times the craftsman’s, while here and there, small obelisks rise with mixed fruit trees, and suddenly, amid this elegant structure, you encounter an imitation of the relaxed beauty of nature. In the center lies a patch adorned with a cluster of dwarf sycamores. Beyond these is a smooth acacia, curving in places, then returning to various other shapes and forms. At the upper end is an alcove made of white marble, shaded by vines and supported by four small Carystian columns. From this semicircular couch, water gushes up through several little pipes, as if pressed out by the weight of those reclining on it, falling into a stone cistern below, from which it flows into a finely polished marble basin, skillfully designed to remain full without ever overflowing. When I have dinner here, this basin serves as a table, with larger dishes arranged around the edge, while smaller ones float in the form of vessels and waterfowl. Opposite this is a fountain that is constantly emptying and filling; the water it shoots up to a great height cascades back down into it and is returned rapidly through consecutive openings. Facing the alcove (and adding an equal ornamentation to it) is a stunning marble summer house with doors that open into a green area, while its upper and lower windows provide various views of green spaces. Next to it is a small private room (which, although it appears distinct, can be part of the same room), furnished with a couch, and even though it has windows on all sides, it has a pleasantly shaded atmosphere due to a sprawling vine that climbs up to the top and completely shades it. Here, you can relax and feel like you’re in the woods, only without being exposed to the elements. There’s also a fountain that rises and then vanishes instantly—several marble seats are placed in different spots, just as comfortable as the summer house itself after a long walk. Close by is a small fountain, and throughout the entire hippodrome, several small streams flow gently through pipes, wherever craftsmanship has chosen to guide them, watering different green patches here and there, and sometimes all at once. I would have finished earlier for fear of being too talkative, had I not intended in this letter to lead you through every corner of my house and gardens. I didn’t think you would find it a burden to read about a place that I’m sure you would enjoy seeing, especially since you can stop whenever you want, simply put my letter aside and rest whenever you deem it necessary. Besides, I indulged my small obsession, as I have a passion for what I’ve built or completed myself. In short, (for why should I hide my thoughts or biases from my friend?) I believe it’s every writer’s duty to frequently review their title page and consider the subject they’ve chosen; and they can be assured that if they stay focused on their topic, they cannot be seen as tedious, but if they introduce anything irrelevant, they will indeed be regarded as quite so. You know Homer spent many verses describing Achilles’ armor, just as Virgil did with Aeneas’, yet neither is long-winded because they stay true to their original themes. Aratus, you’ll notice, is not considered excessively detailed despite tracing every little star, as he doesn’t stray from his path but follows where his subject leads. Similarly (to compare small things to great), as long as I’ve aimed to give you a picture of my house without introducing anything irrelevant or excessive, it’s not my writing that describes but my villa that is described, which is considered grand. To return to my starting point so I don’t rightly break my own rules by continuing this digression, you now see the reasons I prefer my Tuscan villa to the ones I have at Tusculum, the Tiber, and Praeneste. Aside from the mentioned advantages, I enjoy a more comfortable, deep, and untroubled retreat here than anywhere else, as I’m farther away from the hustle of town and the distractions from pesky clients. Everything is calm and serene; these conditions contribute just as much as the clear air and unclouded sky to the health of both body and mind that I particularly appreciate in this place, both of which I maintain through study and hunting. Indeed, there’s no place that suits my family better; at least, I’m sure I haven't lost any (if you’ll allow the phrase!) of all those I brought with me. And may the gods continue this happiness for me and this honor for my villa. Farewell.
LIII — To CALVISIUS
IT is certain the law does not allow a corporate city to inherit any estate by will, or to receive a legacy. Saturninus, however, who has appointed me his heir, had left a fourth part of his estate to our corporation of Comum; afterwards, instead of a fourth part, he bequeathed four hundred thousand sesterces.[78] This bequest, in the eye of the law, is null and void, but, considered as the clear and express will of the deceased, ought to stand firm and valid. Myself, I consider the will of the dead (though I am afraid what I say will not please the lawyers) of higher authority than the law, especially when the interest of one's native country is concerned. Ought I, who made them a present of eleven hundred thousand sesterces[79] out of my own patrimony, to withhold a benefaction of little more than a third part of that sum out of an estate which has come quite by a chance into my hands? You, who like a true patriot have the same affection for this our common country, will agree with me in opinion, I feel sure. I wish therefore you would, at the next meeting of the Decurii, acquaint them, just briefly and respectfully, as to how the law stands in this case, and then add that I offer them four hundred thousand sesterces according to the direction in Saturninus' will. You will represent this donation as his present and his liberality; I only claim the merit of complying with his request. I did not trouble to write to their senate about this, fully relying as I do upon our intimate friendship and your wise discretion, and being quite satisfied that you are both able and willing to act for me upon this occasion as I would for myself; besides, I was afraid I should not seem to have so cautiously guarded my expressions in a letter as you will be able to do in a speech. The countenance, the gesture, and even the tone of voice govern and determine the sense of the speaker, whereas a letter, being without these advantages, is more liable to malignant misinterpretation. Farewell.
It’s clear that the law doesn’t allow a corporate city to inherit any estate through a will or receive a legacy. However, Saturninus, who named me his heir, left a quarter of his estate to our city of Comum; later, instead of that quarter, he bequeathed four hundred thousand sesterces.[78] This gift is technically invalid according to the law, but considering it’s clearly and explicitly what he intended, it should be honored. Personally, I believe the wishes of the deceased (though I'm concerned the lawyers won’t like what I’m saying) hold more weight than the law, especially when it pertains to the interests of our homeland. Should I, who donated eleven hundred thousand sesterces[79] from my own inheritance, deny a contribution of just over a third of that amount from an estate that has unexpectedly come into my possession? You, who share a genuine love for our shared homeland, will surely agree with me. Therefore, I would appreciate it if you would inform the Decurii at their next meeting, briefly and respectfully, about the legal situation, and then mention that I am offering them four hundred thousand sesterces, as Saturninus intended. Present this donation as his gift and generosity; I only want credit for fulfilling his wishes. I didn’t bother writing to their senate about this, as I fully trust our friendship and your good judgment, and I know you can act on my behalf just as I would. Plus, I was worried I might not be as careful in my wording in a letter as you can be in a speech. The expression, gestures, and even tone of voice influence how the message is received, while a letter lacks these elements and is more prone to misinterpretation. Farewell.
LIV — To MARCELLINUS
I WRITE this to you in the deepest sorrow: the youngest daughter of my friend Fundanus is dead! I have never seen a more cheerful and more lovable girl, or one who better deserved to have enjoyed a long, I had almost said an immortal, life! She was scarcely fourteen, and yet there was in her a wisdom far beyond her years, a matronly gravity united with girlish sweetness and virgin bashfulness. With what an endearing fondness did she hang on her father's neck! How affectionately and modestly she used to greet us his friends! With what a tender and deferential regard she used to treat her nurses, tutors, teachers, each in their respective offices! What an eager, industrious, intelligent, reader she was! She took few amusements, and those with caution. How self-controlled, how patient, how brave, she was, under her last illness! She complied with all the directions of her physicians; she spoke cheerful, comforting words to her sister and her father; and when all her bodily strength was exhausted, the vigour of her mind sustained her. That indeed continued even to her last moments, unbroken by the pain of a long illness, or the terrors of approaching death; and it is a reflection which makes us miss her, and grieve that she has gone from us, the more. 0 melancholy, untimely, loss, too truly! She was engaged to an excellent young man; the wedding-day was fixed, and we were all invited. How our joy has been turned into sorrow! I cannot express in words the inward pain I felt when I heard Fundanus himself (as grief is ever finding out fresh circumstances to aggravate its affliction) ordering the money he had intended laying out upon clothes, pearls, and jewels for her marriage, to be employed in frankincense, ointments, and perfumes for her funeral. He is a man of great learning and good sense, who has applied himself from his earliest youth to the deeper studies and the fine arts, but all the maxims of fortitude which he has received from books, or advanced himself, he now absolutely rejects, and every other virtue of his heart gives place to all a parent's tenderness. You will excuse, you will even approve, his grief, when you consider what he has lost. He has lost a daughter who resembled him in his manners, as well as his person, and exactly copied out all her father. So, if you should think proper to write to him upon the subject of so reasonable a grief, let me remind you not to use the rougher arguments of consolation, and such as seem to carry a sort of reproof with them, but those of kind and sympathizing humanity. Time will render him more open to the dictates of reason: for as a fresh wound shrinks back from the hand of the surgeon, but by degrees submits to, and even seeks of its own accord the means of its cure, so a mind under the first impression of a misfortune shuns and rejects all consolations, but at length desires and is lulled by their gentle application. Farewell.
I’m writing to you with a heavy heart: my friend Fundanus's youngest daughter has passed away! I’ve never seen a more cheerful and lovable girl, nor one who deserved to live a long life—almost an immortal one! She was barely fourteen, yet possessed a wisdom that surpassed her years, combining a serious demeanor with girlhood sweetness and innocent shyness. How lovingly she clung to her father's neck! How affectionately and modestly she greeted us, his friends! With such tenderness and respect, she treated her nurses, tutors, and teachers, each in their own roles! What an eager, hardworking, and intelligent reader she was! She engaged in few pastimes, and only with caution. How self-controlled, patient, and brave she was throughout her final illness! She followed all her doctors' instructions; she spoke uplifting, comforting words to her sister and father; and even when her body was worn out, her mind remained strong. That strength lasted until her last moments, unaffected by the pain of a long illness or the fear of impending death; this only makes us miss her more and grieve her loss deeply. Oh, what a tragic, premature loss this is! She was set to marry a wonderful young man; the wedding day was planned, and we were all invited. How our joy has turned to sorrow! I can hardly express the inner pain I felt when I heard Fundanus himself (grief always finds new ways to deepen its wounds) directing the money he had meant for her wedding clothes, pearls, and jewels to be spent instead on incense, ointments, and perfumes for her funeral. He is a highly educated and sensible man who has dedicated himself from a young age to profound studies and the fine arts, but all the teachings of courage he has learned from books, or developed himself, he now completely rejects, and every virtue of his heart gives way to a parent's love. You will understand, and even sympathize with, his sorrow when you consider what he has lost. He has lost a daughter who mirrored his mannerisms as well as his appearance, perfectly emulating him. So, if you choose to write to him regarding this understandable grief, I suggest you avoid harsh words of consolation that could seem like reproaches. Instead, offer words of kindness and empathetic humanity. Over time, he will become more receptive to reason: just as a fresh wound flinches from the surgeon's hand but gradually comes to accept and even seeks healing on its own, a mind caught in the shock of misfortune initially rejects consolation but eventually craves and finds solace in its gentle application. Farewell.
LV — To SPURINNA
KNOWING, as I do, how much you admire the polite arts, and what satisfaction you take in seeing young men of quality pursue the steps of their ancestors, I seize this earliest opportunity of informing you that I went to-day to hear Calpurnius Piso read a beautiful and scholarly production of his, entitled the Sports of Love. His numbers, which were elegiac, were tender, sweet, and flowing, at the same time that they occasionally rose to all the sublimity of diction which the nature of his subject required. He varied his style from the lofty to the simple, from the close to the copious, from the grave to the florid, with equal genius and judgment. These beauties were further recommended by a most harmonious voice; which a very becoming modesty rendered still more pleasing. A confusion and concern in the countenance of a speaker imparts a grace to all he utters; for diffidence, I know not how, is infinitely more engaging than assurance and self-sufficiency. I might mention several other circumstances to his advantage, which I am the more inclined to point out, as they are exceedingly striking in one of his age, and are most uncommon in a youth of his quality: but not to enter into a farther detail of his merit, I will only add that, when he had finished his poem, I embraced him very heartily, and being persuaded that nothing is a greater encouragement than applause, I exhorted him to go on as he had begun, and to shine out to posterity with the same glorious lustre, which was reflected upon him from his ancestors. I congratulated his excellent mother, and particularly his brother, who gained as much honour by the generous affection he manifested upon this occasion as Calpurnius did by his eloquence; so remarkable a solicitude he showed for him when he began to recite his poem, and so much pleasure in his success. May the gods grant me frequent occasions of giving you accounts of this nature! for I have a partiality to the age in which I live, and should rejoice to find it not barren of merit. I ardently wish, therefore, our young men of quality would have something else to show of honourable memorial in their houses than the images[80] of their ancestors. As for those which are placed in the mansion of these excellent youths, I now figure them to myself as silently applauding and encouraging their pursuits, and (what is a sufficient degree of honour to both brothers) as recognizing their kindred. Farewell.
KNOWING, as I do, how much you admire the polite arts and the satisfaction you get from seeing young men of quality follow in their ancestors' footsteps, I take this first chance to tell you that I went today to hear Calpurnius Piso read a beautiful and scholarly piece of his, titled the Sports of Love. His verses, which were elegiac, were tender, sweet, and flowing, while also sometimes reaching the lofty diction that his subject required. He changed his style from formal to simple, from concise to expansive, from serious to ornate, with equal skill and judgment. These qualities were enhanced by his harmonious voice, which was made even more charming by his modesty. A speaker’s nervousness and concern add grace to everything he says; because, somehow, being humble is way more appealing than being overly confident and self-assured. I could mention several other impressive traits he has, especially since they are quite striking for someone his age and rare for a youth of his standing. But instead of going into more detail about his merits, I’ll just add that when he finished his poem, I embraced him warmly and, believing that applause is the greatest encouragement, I urged him to continue as he had started and to shine for future generations with the same glorious brilliance that reflects from his ancestors. I congratulated his wonderful mother, and especially his brother, who earned just as much honor through the generous affection he showed during this event as Calpurnius did with his eloquence—his brother’s notable concern for him when he began reciting the poem and his joy in Calpurnius's success. May the gods give me more chances to share updates like this with you! I have a fondness for the era I live in and would love to see it filled with merit. I truly wish, therefore, that our young men of quality would have something more impressive to show in their homes than just the images of their ancestors. As for those displayed in the homes of these fine young men, I now picture them silently applauding and encouraging their endeavors, and (which is a fitting honor to both brothers) recognizing their kinship. Farewell.
LVI — To PAULINUS
As I know the humanity with which you treat your own servants, I have less reserve in confessing to you the indulgence I shew to mine. I have ever in my mind that line of Homer's —
As I know how you treat your own servants, I feel more comfortable admitting to you the leniency I show to mine. I always think of that line from Homer —
"Who swayed his people with a father's love":
"Who won over his people with a father's love":
and this expression of ours, "father of a family." But were I harsher and harder than I really am by nature, the ill state of health of my freedman Zosimus (who has the stronger claim upon my tenderness, in that he now stands in more especial need of it) would be sufficient to soften me. He is a good, honest fellow, attentive in his services, and well-read; but his chief talent, and indeed his distinguishing qualification, is that of a comedian, in which he highly excels. His pronunciation is distinct, correct in emphasis, pure, and graceful: he has a very skilled touch, too, upon the lyre, and performs with better execution than is necessary for one of his profession. To this I must add, he reads history, oratory, and poetry, as well as if these had been the sole objects of his study. I am the more particular in enumerating his qualifications, to let you see how many agreeable services I receive from this one servant alone. He is indeed endeared to me by the ties of a long affection, which are strengthened by the danger he is now in. For nature has so formed our hearts that nothing contributes more to incite and kindle affection than the fear of losing the object of it: a fear which I have suffered more than once on his account. Some years ago he strained himself so much by too strong an exertion of his voice, that he spit blood, upon which account I sent him into Egypt;[81] from whence, after a long absence, belately returned with great benefit to his health. But having again exerted himself for several days together beyond his strength, he was reminded of his former malady by a slight return of his cough, and a spitting of blood. For this reason I intend to send him to your farm at Forum-Julii,[82] having frequently heard you mention it as a healthy air, and recommend the milk of that place as very salutary in disorders of his nature. I beg you would give directions to your people to receive him into your house, and to supply him with whatever he may have occasion for: which will not be much, for he is so sparing and abstemious as not only to abstain from delicacies, but even to deny himself the necessaries his ill state of health requires. I shall furnish him towards his journey with what will be sufficient for one of his moderate requirements, who is coming under your roof. Farewell.
and this saying of ours, "father of a family." But if I were harsher and tougher than I truly am, the poor health of my freedman Zosimus (who deserves my care even more now) would still soften my heart. He’s a good, honest guy, attentive in his work, and well-read; but his greatest talent, and what sets him apart, is his skill as a comedian, in which he truly shines. His pronunciation is clear, correctly emphasized, pure, and graceful: he also has a skilled touch on the lyre and performs with more skill than necessary for someone in his profession. I mention his skills to show you how many enjoyable services I get from this one servant alone. He’s dear to me because of our long-standing affection, which is made stronger by the danger he’s currently facing. Our hearts are shaped in such a way that nothing stirs up affection more than the fear of losing someone we care about: a fear I've experienced more than once on his account. A few years ago, he overexerted his voice so much that he coughed up blood, which is why I sent him to Egypt; from there, after a long absence, he returned with significant health improvements. However, after exerting himself again for several days, his previous issue returned with a slight cough and blood spitting. Because of this, I plan to send him to your farm at Forum-Julii, as I've often heard you mention it's a healthy place and that the local milk is very beneficial for his condition. Please instruct your staff to welcome him into your home and provide him with anything he needs: it won’t be much since he’s so frugal that he not only avoids rich foods but also skips the necessities his health demands. I’ll ensure he has enough for his journey, suitable for someone with modest needs, who is coming under your roof. Take care.
LVII — To RUFUS
I WENT into the Julian[83] court to hear those lawyers to whom, according to the last adjournment, I was to reply. The judges had taken their seats, the decemviri[84] were arrived, the eyes of the audience were fixed upon the counsel, and all was hushed silence and expectation, when a messenger arrived from the praetor, and the Hundred are at once dismissed, and the case postponed: an accident extremely agreeable to me, who am never so well prepared but that I am glad of gaining further time. The occasion of the court's rising thus abruptly was a short edict of Nepos, the praetor for criminal causes, in which he directed all persons concerned as plaintiffs or defendants in any cause before him to take notice that he designed strictly to put in force the decree of the senate annexed to his edict. Which decree was expressed in the following words:
I went into the Julian[83] court to hear from the lawyers I was supposed to respond to, based on the last adjournment. The judges were seated, the decemviri[84] had arrived, the audience was focused on the counsel, and there was a hushed silence filled with anticipation when a messenger came from the praetor, dismissing the Hundred and postponing the case. This unexpected turn was quite favorable for me, as I'm never fully prepared and I always welcome more time. The reason for the court's sudden recess was a brief edict from Nepos, the praetor for criminal cases, in which he informed all parties involved as plaintiffs or defendants in any case before him that he intended to strictly enforce the senate's decree attached to his edict. That decree was stated in the following words:
ALL PERSONS WHOSOEVER THAT HAVE ANY LAW-SUITS DEPENDING ARE
HEREBY REQUIRED AND COMMANDED, BEFORE ANY PROCEEDINGS BE HAD
THEREON, TO TAKE AN OATH THAT THEY HAVE NOT GIVEN, PROMISED,
OR ENGAGED TO GIVE, ANY FEE OR REWARD TO ANY ADVOCATE, UPON
ACCOUNT OF HIS UNDERTAKING THEIR CAUSE.
ALL PERSONS WHO HAVE ANY LAWSUITS PENDING ARE REQUIRED AND COMMANDED, BEFORE ANY PROCEEDINGS CAN TAKE PLACE, TO TAKE AN OATH THAT THEY HAVE NOT GIVEN, PROMISED, OR ENGAGED TO GIVE ANY FEE OR REWARD TO ANY LAWYER FOR TAKING ON THEIR CASE.
In these terms, and many others equally full and express, the lawyers were prohibited to make their professions venal. However, after the case is decided, they are permitted to accept a gratuity of ten thousand sesterces.[85] The praetor for civil causes, being alarmed at this order of Nepos, gave us this unexpected holiday in order to take time to consider whether he should follow the example. Meanwhile the whole town is talking, and either approving or condemning this edict of Nepos. We have got then at last (say the latter with a sneer) a redressor of abuses. But pray was there never a praetor before this man? Who is he then who sets up in this way for a public reformer? Others, on the contrary, say, "He has done perfectly right upon his entry into office; he has paid obedience to the laws; considered the decrees of the senate, repressed most indecent contracts, and will not suffer the most honourable of all professions to be debased into a sordid lucre traffic." This is what one hears all around one; but which side may prevail, the event will shew. It is the usual method of the world (though a very unequitable rule of estimation) to pronounce an action either right or wrong, according as it is attended with good or ill success; in consequence of which you may hear the very same conduct attributed to zeal or folly, to liberty or licentiousness, upon different several occasions. Farewell.
In these terms, and many others equally clear and direct, the lawyers were forbidden to make their services for sale. However, after the case is settled, they are allowed to accept a tip of ten thousand sesterces.[85] The praetor for civil cases, concerned about this order from Nepos, gave us this unexpected break to consider whether he should follow suit. In the meantime, the whole town is buzzing, either supporting or criticizing Nepos's edict. So, at last, we've finally got (say the critics with a sneer) a fixer of wrongs. But honestly, was there never a praetor before this guy? Who is he to present himself as a public reformer? Others, on the flip side, argue, "He's absolutely right upon taking office; he's honored the laws; respected the senate's decrees, curbed indecent contracts, and won't let the noblest profession turn into a disgraceful money-making scheme." This is what you hear all around; but which side will win, time will tell. It’s the usual way of the world (though a deeply unfair measure) to deem an action right or wrong based on its success; as a result, you can hear the same behavior labeled as either passion or stupidity, freedom or recklessness, depending on the situation. Take care.
LVIII — To ARRIANUS
SOMETIMES I miss Regulus in our courts. I cannot say I deplore his loss. The man, it must be owned, highly respected his profession, grew pale with study and anxiety over it, and used to write out his speeches though he could not get them by heart. There was a practice he had of painting round his right or left eye,[86] and wearing a white patch[87] over one side or the other of his forehead, according as he was to plead either for the plaintiff or defendant; of consulting the soothsayers upon the issue of an action; still, all this excessive superstition was really due to his extreme earnestness in his profession. And it was acceptable enough being concerned in the same cause with him, as he always obtained full indulgence in point of time, and never failed to get an audience together; for what could be more convenient than, under the protection of a liberty which you did not ask yourself, and all the odium of the arrangement resting with another, and before an audience which you had not the trouble of collecting, to speak on at your ease, and as long as you thought proper? Nevertheless Regulus did well in departing this life, though he would have done much better had he made his exit sooner. He might really have lived now without any danger to the public, in the reign of a prince under whom he would have had no opportunity of doing any harm. I need not scruple therefore, I think, to say I sometimes miss him: for since his death the custom has prevailed of not allowing, nor indeed of asking more than an hour or two to plead in, and sometimes not above half that time. The truth is, our advocates take more pleasure in finishing a cause than in defending it; and our judges had rather rise from the bench than sit upon it: such is their indolence, and such their indifference to the honour of eloquence and the interest of justice! But are we wiser than our ancestors? are we more equitable than the laws which grant so many hours and days of adjournments to a case? were our forefathers slow of apprehension, and dull beyond measure? and are we clearer of speech, quicker in our conceptions, or more scrupulous in our decisions, because we get over our causes in fewer hours than they took days? O Regulus! it was by zeal in your profession that you secured an advantage which is but rarely given to the highest integrity. As for myself, whenever I sit upon the bench (which is much oftener than I appear at the bar), I always give the advocates as much time as they require: for I look upon it as highly presuming to pretend to guess, before a case is heard, what time it will require, and to set limits to an affair before one is acquainted with its extent; especially as the first and most sacred duty of a judge is patience, which constitutes an important part of justice. But this, it is objected, would give an opening to much superfluous matter: I grant it may; yet is it not better to hear too much than not to hear enough? Besides, how shall you know that what an advocate has farther to offer will be superfluous, until you have heard him? But this, and many other public abuses, will be best reserved for a conversation when we meet; for I know your affection to the commonwealth inclines you to wish that some means might be found out to check at least those grievances, which would now be very difficult absolutely to remove. But to return to affairs of private concern: I hope all goes well in your family; mine remains in its usual situation. The good which I enjoy grows more acceptable to me by its continuance; as habit renders me less sensible of the evils I suffer. Farewell.
SOMETIMES I miss Regulus in our courts. I can’t say I regret his loss. He really respected his profession, grew pale with study and anxiety about it, and would write out his speeches even though he couldn’t memorize them. He had a habit of painting around his right or left eye, [86] and wearing a white patch [87] over one side of his forehead, depending on whether he was pleading for the plaintiff or the defendant; he would consult soothsayers about the outcome of a case; still, all this excessive superstition came from his intense dedication to his profession. It was quite convenient to be on the same side as him since he always managed to get plenty of time and never failed to gather an audience; there was something so easy about speaking under the protection of a freedom you didn't ask for, with all the blame resting on someone else, and in front of an audience you didn't have to gather. Nevertheless, Regulus did well to leave this life, although he would have been better off if he had left much sooner. He could have lived now without posing a danger to the public during the reign of a prince under whom he wouldn't have had the chance to do any harm. So, I don’t hesitate to say I sometimes miss him: since his death, it has become the norm to allow only an hour or two to plead, and sometimes even less. The truth is, our lawyers prefer to wrap up a case rather than defend it; and our judges would rather get off the bench than stay on it: such is their laziness and their indifference to the dignity of eloquence and the interest of justice! Are we really wiser than our ancestors? Are we fairer than the laws that allowed many hours and days for a case? Were our forefathers really slow-witted and unbearably dull? Are we clearer in our speech, quicker in our thinking, or more careful in our decisions just because we finish our cases in fewer hours than they did in days? O Regulus! It was your dedication to your profession that earned you an advantage rarely granted to those with the highest integrity. As for me, whenever I sit on the bench (which is more often than I’m at the bar), I always give the advocates as much time as they need: I think it’s quite presumptuous to try to guess, before hearing a case, how much time it will take and to impose limits before knowing its scope; especially since the first and most sacred duty of a judge is patience, which is a crucial part of justice. Some argue this would lead to a lot of unnecessary talk: I agree it might; but isn’t it better to hear too much than too little? Besides, how can you know if what an advocate has left to say is unnecessary until you’ve heard him out? But this, along with many other public issues, can wait for our conversation when we meet; I know you care about the commonwealth and hope to find ways to address at least those grievances that would be very hard to completely eliminate now. But back to personal matters: I hope everything is going well with your family; mine is in its usual state. The good I enjoy becomes sweeter with time, while habit makes me less aware of the troubles I endure. Farewell.
LIX — To CALPURNIA[88]
NEVER was business more disagreeable to me than when it prevented me not only from accompanying you when you went into Campania for your health, but from following you there soon after; for I want particularly to be with you now, that I may learn from my own eyes whether you are growing stronger and stouter, and whether the tranquillity, the amusements, and plenty of that charming country really agree with you. Were you in perfect health, yet I could ill support your absence; for even a moment's uncertainty of the welfare of those we tenderly love causes a feeling of suspense and anxiety: but now your sickness conspires with your absence to trouble me grievously with vague and various anxieties. I dread everything, fancy everything, and, as is natural to those who fear, conjure up the very things I most dread. Let me the more earnestly entreat you then to think of my anxiety, and write to me every day, and even twice a day: I shall be more easy, at least while I am reading your letters, though when I have read them, I shall immediately feel my fears again. Farewell.
Business has never been more unpleasant for me than when it kept me from joining you on your trip to Campania for your health, and from following you there shortly after. I really want to be with you now so I can see for myself if you're getting stronger and healthier, and whether the peace, fun, and abundance of that lovely area are good for you. Even if you were in perfect health, it would still be hard for me to handle your absence; just a moment of uncertainty about the well-being of those we care about deeply creates a sense of suspense and worry. But now your illness, along with your absence, weighs heavily on me with a troubling mix of vague and various anxieties. I fear everything, imagine everything, and, as is common for those who are afraid, I summon up the very things I fear the most. So let me urge you even more to consider my anxiety and write to me every day, or even twice a day. I'll feel more at ease while I'm reading your letters, though as soon as I finish them, my fears will return. Farewell.
LX — To CALPURNIA
You kindly tell me my absence very sensibly affects you, and that your only consolation is in conversing with my works, which you frequently substitute in my stead. I am glad that you miss me; I am glad that you find some rest in these alleviations. In return, I read over your letters again and again, and am continually taking them up, as if I had just received them; but, alas! this only stirs in me a keener longing for you; for how sweet must her conversation be whose letters have so many charms? Let me receive them, however, as often as possible, notwithstanding there is still a mixture of pain in the pleasure they afford me. Farewell.
You kindly tell me that my absence really affects you, and that your only comfort comes from talking about my works, which you often use in my place. I'm glad you miss me; I'm glad you find some peace in these distractions. In return, I read your letters over and over, picking them up like I've just received them. But, unfortunately, this only makes me long for you even more; how sweet must your conversation be if your letters hold so many charms? Please send them to me as often as you can, even though there's still some pain mixed in with the joy they bring me. Take care.
LXI — To PRISCUS
You know Attilius Crescens, and you love him; who is there, indeed, of any rank or worth, that does not? For myself, I profess to have a friendship for him far exceeding ordinary attachments of the world. Our native towns are separated only by a day's journey; and we got to care for each other when we were very young; the season for passionate friendships. Ours improved by years; and so far from being chilled, it was confirmed by our riper judgments, as those who know us best can witness. He takes pleasure in boasting everywhere of my friendship; as I do to let the world know that his reputation, his ease, and his interest are my peculiar concern. Insomuch that upon his expressing to me some apprehension of insolent treatment from a certain person who was entering upon the tribuneship of the people, I could not forbear answering, —
You know Attilius Crescens, and you love him; who doesn’t, really, if they have any sense or worth? As for me, I can honestly say that my friendship for him goes way beyond the usual connections people have. Our hometowns are only a day’s journey apart, and we started caring for each other when we were very young—the perfect age for deep friendships. Ours has only grown stronger over the years, and instead of fading, it has been strengthened by our more mature perspectives, as those who know us best can confirm. He enjoys bragging about my friendship everywhere, just as I want everyone to know that his reputation, comfort, and interests matter to me deeply. So when he mentioned being concerned about some rude behavior from someone about to become a tribune, I couldn’t help but respond, —
"Long as Achilles breathes this vital air,
To touch thy head no impious hand shall dare."[89]
"As long as Achilles breathes this vital air,
No disrespectful hand will dare to touch your head."[89]What is my object in telling you these things? Why, to shew you that I look upon every injury offered to Attilius as done to myself. "But what is the object of all this?" you repeat. You must know then, Valerius Varus, at his death, owed Attilius a sum of money. Though I am on friendly terms with Maximus, his heir, yet there is a closer friendship between him and you. I beg therefore, and entreat you by the affection you have for me, to take care that Attilius is not only paid the capital which is due to him, but all the long arrears of interest too. He neither covets the property of others nor neglects the care of his own; and as he is not engaged in any lucrative profession, he has nothing to depend upon but his own frugality: for as to literature, in which he greatly distinguishes himself, he pursues this merely from motives of pleasure and ambition. In such a situation, the slightest loss presses hard upon a man, and the more so because he has no opportunities of repairing any injury done to his fortune. Remove then, I entreat you, our uneasiness, and suffer me still to enjoy the pleasure of his wit and bonhommie; for I cannot bear to see the cheerfulness of my friend over-clouded, whose mirth and good humour dissipates every gloom of melancholy in myself. In short, you know what a pleasant entertaining fellow he is, and I hope you will not suffer any injury to engloom and embitter his disposition. You may judge by the warmth of his affection how severe his resentments would prove; for a generous and great mind can ill brook an injury when coupled with contempt. But though he could pass it over, yet cannot I: on the contrary, I shall regard it as a wrong and indignity done to myself, and resent it as one offered to my friend; that is, with double warmth. But, after all, why this air of threatening? rather let me end in the same style in which I began, namely, by begging, entreating you so to act in this affair that neither Attilius may have reason to imagine (which I am exceedingly anxious he should not) that I neglect his interest, nor that I may have occasion to charge you with carelessness of mine: as undoubtedly I shall not if you have the same regard for the latter as I have for the former. Farewell.
What am I trying to achieve by telling you all this? To show you that I see every wrong done to Attilius as a wrong done to me. "But what's the point of all this?" you might ask. You should know, Valerius Varus, that at his death, Varus owed Attilius a sum of money. Although I'm friendly with Maximus, his heir, you have a closer friendship with him. So, I kindly ask you, with all the affection you have for me, to ensure that Attilius is not only paid back the principal he’s owed but also all the overdue interest. He doesn’t covet others’ possessions, nor does he neglect his own; and since he’s not involved in any profitable profession, he relies solely on his frugality. As for literature, which he excels in, he pursues it purely for pleasure and ambition. In this situation, even the smallest loss weighs heavily on a man, especially since he has no way to recover from any damage to his finances. So please, alleviate our worries and let me continue to enjoy his wit and good nature; I can’t stand to see my friend’s cheerfulness overshadowed, especially since his laughter and good humor lift my own spirits. In short, you know how entertaining he is, and I hope you won’t let any troubles darken his mood. You can gauge from his warm feelings how intense his resentments may be; after all, a generous and great mind can’t easily tolerate an insult, especially when it's mingled with contempt. While he might overlook it, I cannot: I will see it as a personal wrongdoing and take it to heart, feeling it doubly because it's directed at my friend. But why take on a threatening tone? Instead, let me conclude as I began, by begging you to handle this matter in such a way that Attilius doesn't think (which I’m very eager to avoid) that I have neglected his interests, and that I have no reason to accuse you of neglecting mine: which I truly won't if you care about mine as much as I care about his. Farewell.
LXII — To ALBINUS
I WAS lately at Alsium,[90] where my mother-in-law has a villa which once belonged to Verginius Rufus. The place renewed in my mind the sorrowful remembrance of that-great and excellent man. He was extremely fond of this retirement, and used to call it the nest of his old age. Whichever way I looked, I missed him, I felt his absence. I had an inclination to visit his monument; but I repented having seen it, afterwards: for I found it still unfinished, and this, not from any difficulty residing in the work itself, for it is very plain, or rather indeed slight; but through the neglect of him to whose care it was entrusted. I could not see without a concern, mixed with indignation, the remains of a man, whose fame filled the whole world, lie for ten years after his death without an inscription, or a name. He had however directed that the divine and immortal action of his life should be recorded upon his tomb in the following lines:
I was recently at Alsium, [90], where my mother-in-law has a villa that used to belong to Verginius Rufus. Being there brought back memories of that great and remarkable man. He loved this peaceful spot and often referred to it as the nest of his old age. No matter where I looked, I felt his absence and missed him. I thought about visiting his monument, but I regretted seeing it afterwards because I found it still unfinished—not due to any complexity of the work itself, which is quite simple, but because of the neglect by the person in charge of it. It was upsetting and infuriating to see the remains of a man whose fame filled the world lie for ten years after his death without an inscription or a name. However, he had requested that the divine and immortal achievements of his life be inscribed on his tomb in the following lines:
"Here Rufus lies, who Vindex' arms withstood,
Not for himself, but for his country's good."
"Here lies Rufus, who stood against Vindex's strength, not for himself, but for the good of his country."
But faithful friends are so rare, and the dead so soon forgotten, that we shall be obliged ourselves to build even our very tombs, and anticipate the office of our heirs. For who is there that has no reason to fear for himself what we see has happened to Verginius, whose eminence and distinction, while rendering such treatment more shameful, so, in the same way, make it more notorious? Farewell.
But true friends are so hard to find, and the dead are forgotten so quickly, that we will have to create our own graves and take on the duties of our heirs. Who among us doesn’t worry about ending up like Verginius, whose status and reputation make his treatment even more disgraceful and more widely known? Goodbye.
LXIII — To MAXIMUS
O WHAT a happy day I lately spent! I was called by the prefect of Rome, to assist him in a certain case, and had the pleasure of hearing two excellent young men, Fuscus Salinator and Numidius Quadratus, plead on the opposite sides: their worth is equal, and each of them will one day, I am persuaded, prove an ornament not only to the present age, but to literature itself. They evinced upon this occasion an admirable probity, supported by inflexible courage: their dress was decent, their elocution distinct, their tones were manly, their memory retentive, their genius elevated, and guided by an equal solidity of judgment. I took infinite pleasure in observing them display these noble qualities; particularly as I had the satisfaction to see that, while they looked upon me as their guide and model, they appeared to the audience as my imitators and rivals. It was a day (I cannot but repeat it again) which afforded me the most exquisite happiness, and which I shall ever distinguish with the fairest mark. For what indeed could be either more pleasing to me on the public account than to observe two such noble youths building their fame and glory upon the polite arts; or more desirable upon my own than to be marked out as a worthy example to them in their pursuits of virtue? May the gods still grant me the continuance of that pleasure! And I implore the same gods, you are my witness, to make all these who think me deserving of imitation far better than I am, Farewell.
Oh, what a happy day I recently had! I was called by the prefect of Rome to assist with a certain case, and I had the pleasure of hearing two outstanding young men, Fuscus Salinator and Numidius Quadratus, argue on opposite sides. Their talents are equal, and I’m convinced that each of them will one day be a credit not only to our time but to literature itself. On this occasion, they showed remarkable integrity, backed by unwavering courage: their attire was appropriate, their speech clear, their tones manly, their memories sharp, and their intellects high, all guided by solid judgment. I took immense pleasure in watching them showcase these admirable qualities, especially since I was pleased to see that while they regarded me as their mentor and model, they seemed to the audience as my imitators and rivals. It was a day (I can’t emphasize this enough) that brought me the utmost happiness and that I will always remember fondly. For what could be more satisfying for me in a public sense than to see such noble young men earning their fame and glory through the arts? Or more fulfilling personally than to be recognized as a worthy example for them in their pursuit of virtue? May the gods continue to grant me this joy! And I ask those same gods, you are my witness, to make all those who see me as deserving of imitation far better than I am. Farewell.
LXIV — To ROMANUS
You were not present at a very singular occurrence here lately: neither was I, but the story reached me just after it had happened. Passienus Paulus, a Roman knight, of good family, and a man of peculiar learning and culture besides, composes elegies, a talent which runs in the family, for Propertius is reckoned by him amongst his ancestors, as well as being his countryman. He was lately reciting a poem which began thus:
You missed a very unusual event that just happened here: I wasn't there either, but I heard about it right after it took place. Passienus Paulus, a Roman knight from a good family and a guy with unique knowledge and culture, writes elegies—a talent that runs in his family, since he counts Propertius among his ancestors and shares the same hometown. Recently, he was reciting a poem that started like this:
"Priscus, at thy command"—
"Priscus, at your command"—
Whereupon Javolenus Priscus, who happened to be present as a particular friend of the poet's, cried out—"But he is mistaken, I did not command him." Think what laughter and merriment this occasioned. Priscus's wits, you must know, are reckoned rather unsound,[91] though he takes a share in public business, is summoned to consultations, and even publicly acts as a lawyer, so that this behaviour of his was the more remarkable and ridiculous: meanwhile Paulus was a good deal disconcerted by his friend's absurdity. You see how necessary it is for those who are anxious to recite their works in public to take care that the audience as well as the author are perfectly sane. Farewell.
Whereupon Javolenus Priscus, who happened to be there as a close friend of the poet, shouted—“But he’s mistaken, I didn’t command him.” Just think of the laughter and fun this caused. You should know that Priscus’s mind is considered a bit unstable, even though he participates in public affairs, is called to meetings, and even acts as a lawyer in public, which made his behavior even more strange and ridiculous. Meanwhile, Paulus was quite thrown off by his friend’s ridiculousness. You see how important it is for those who want to share their work publicly to ensure that both the audience and the author are completely sane. Goodbye.
LXV — To TACITUS
YOUR request that I would send you an account of my uncle's death, in order to transmit a more exact relation of it to posterity, deserves my acknowledgments; for, if this accident shall be celebrated by your pen, the glory of it, I am well assured, will be rendered forever illustrious. And notwithstanding he perished by a misfortune, which, as it involved at the same time a most beautiful country in ruins, and destroyed so many populous cities, seems to promise him an everlasting remembrance; notwithstanding he has himself composed many and lasting works; yet I am persuaded, the mentioning of him in your immortal writings, will greatly contribute to render his name immortal. Happy I esteem those to be to whom by provision of the gods has been granted the ability either to do such actions as are worthy of being related or to relate them in a manner worthy of being read; but peculiarly happy are they who are blessed with both these uncommon talents: in the number of which my uncle, as his own writings and your history will evidently prove, may justly be ranked. It is with extreme willingness, therefore, that I execute your commands; and should indeed have claimed the task if you had not enjoined it. He was at that time with the fleet under his command at Misenum.[92] On the 24th of August, about one in the afternoon, my mother desired him to observe a cloud which appeared of a very unusual size and shape. He had just taken a turn in the sun[93] and, after bathing himself in cold water, and making a light luncheon, gone back to his books: he immediately arose and went out upon a rising ground from whence he might get a better sight of this very uncommon appearance. A cloud, from which mountain was uncertain, at this distance (but it was found afterwards to come from Mount Vesuvius), was ascending, the appearance of which I cannot give you a more exact description of than by likening it to that of a pine tree, for it shot up to a great height in the form of a very tall trunk, which spread itself out at the top into a sort of branches; occasioned, I imagine, either by a sudden gust of air that impelled it, the force of which decreased as it advanced upwards, or the cloud itself being pressed back again by its own weight, expanded in the manner I have mentioned; it appeared sometimes bright and sometimes dark and spotted, according as it was either more or less impregnated with earth and cinders. This phenomenon seemed to a man of such learning and research as my uncle extraordinary and worth further looking into. He ordered a light vessel to be got ready, and gave me leave, if I liked, to accompany him. I said I had rather go on with my work; and it so happened, he had himself given me something to write out. As he was coming out of the house, he received a note from Rectina, the wife of Bassus, who was in the utmost alarm at the imminent danger which threatened her; for her villa lying at the foot of Mount Vesuvius, there was no way of escape but by sea; she earnestly entreated him therefore to come to her assistance. He accordingly changed his first intention, and what he had begun from a philosophical, he now carries out in a noble and generous spirit. He ordered the galleys to be put to sea, and went himself on board with an intention of assisting not only Rectina, but the several other towns which lay thickly strewn along that beautiful coast. Hastening then to the place from whence others fled with the utmost terror, he steered his course direct to the point of danger, and with so much calmness and presence of mind as to be able to make and dictate his observations upon the motion and all the phenomena of that dreadful scene. He was now so close to the mountain that the cinders, which grew thicker and hotter the nearer he approached, fell into the ships, together with pumice-stones, and black pieces of burning rock: they were in danger too not only of being aground by the sudden retreat of the sea, but also from the vast fragments which rolled down from the mountain, and obstructed all the shore. Here he stopped to consider whether he should turn back again; to which the pilot advising him, "Fortune," said he, "favours the brave; steer to where Pomponianus is." Pomponianus was then at Stabiae,[94] separated by a bay, which the sea, after several insensible windings, forms with the shore. He had already sent his baggage on board; for though he was not at that time in actual danger, yet being within sight of it, and indeed extremely near, if it should in the least increase, he was determined to put to sea as soon as the wind, which was blowing dead in-shore, should go down. It was favourable, however, for carrying my uncle to Pomponianus, whom he found in the greatest consternation: he embraced him tenderly, encouraging and urging him to keep up his spirits, and, the more effectually to soothe his fears by seeming unconcerned himself, ordered a bath to be got ready, and then, after having bathed, sat down to supper with great cheerfulness, or at least (what is just as heroic) with every appearance of it. Meanwhile broad flames shone out in several places from Mount Vesuvius, which the darkness of the night contributed to render still brighter and clearer. But my uncle, in order to soothe the apprehensions of his friend, assured him it was only the burning of the villages, which the country people had abandoned to the flames: after this he retired to rest, and it is most certain he was so little disquieted as to fall into a sound sleep: for his breathing, which, on account of his corpulence, was rather heavy and sonorous, was heard by the attendants outside. The court which led to his apartment being now almost filled with stones and ashes, if he had continued there any time longer, it would have been impossible for him to have made his way out. So he was awoke and got up, and went to Pomponianus and the rest of his company, who were feeling too anxious to think of going to bed. They consulted together whether it would be most prudent to trust to the houses, which now rocked from side to side with frequent and violent concussions as though shaken from their very foundations; or fly to the open fields, where the calcined stones and cinders, though light indeed, yet fell in large showers, and threatened destruction. In this choice of dangers they resolved for the fields: a resolution which, while the rest of the company were hurried into by their fears, my uncle embraced upon cool and deliberate consideration. They went out then, having pillows tied upon their heads with napkins; and this was their whole defence against the storm of stones that fell round them. It was now day everywhere else, but there a deeper darkness prevailed than in the thickest night; which however was in some degree alleviated by torches and other lights of various kinds. They thought proper to go farther down upon the shore to see if they might safely put out to sea, but found the waves still running extremely high, and boisterous. There my uncle, laying himself down upon a sail cloth, which was spread for him, called twice for some cold water, which he drank, when immediately the flames, preceded by a strong whiff of sulphur, dispersed the rest of the party, and obliged him to rise. He raised himself up with the assistance of two of his servants, and instantly fell down dead; suffocated, as I conjecture, by some gross and noxious vapour, having always had a weak throat, which was often inflamed. As soon as it was light again, which was not till the third day after this melancholy accident, his body was found entire, and without any marks of violence upon it, in the dress in which he fell, and looking more like a man asleep than dead. During all this time my mother and I, who were at Miscnum—but this has no connection with your history, and you did not desire any particulars besides those of my uncle's death; so I will end here, only adding that I have faithfully related to you what I was either an eye-witness of myself or received immediately after the accident happened, and before there was time to vary the truth. You will pick out of this narrative whatever is most important: for a letter is one thing, a history another; it is one thing writing to a friend, another thing writing to the public. Farewell.
YOUR request for me to send you an account of my uncle's death, so you can provide a more accurate record for future generations, is greatly appreciated; for if this event is written about by you, I am sure it will be remembered forever. Even though he died due to a misfortune that also destroyed a beautiful country and many populated cities, making his memory seem everlasting, and despite the many enduring works he created himself, I believe that mentioning him in your timeless writings will significantly help make his name immortal. I consider those fortunate who, by the gods' providence, are granted the ability to perform actions worth recounting or to narrate them in a way that is worthy of being read; but especially fortunate are those who possess both of these rare talents, among whom my uncle, as his writings and your history will clearly demonstrate, rightly belongs. Therefore, I am extremely willing to fulfill your request; I would have actually claimed this responsibility had you not assigned it to me. At that moment, he was with the fleet he commanded at Misenum.[92] On August 24th, around one in the afternoon, my mother asked him to look at a cloud that appeared unusually large and shaped. He had just taken a stroll in the sun[93] and, after a cold bath and a light lunch, returned to his books: he immediately got up and went to a high point where he could get a better view of this remarkable sight. A cloud, the origin of which was uncertain at that distance (but later found to be from Mount Vesuvius), was rising and I can describe it best by comparing it to a pine tree, as it shot up high with a tall trunk that spread out at the top into branches; this was likely caused by a sudden gust of air that pushed it, its force weakening as it climbed, or perhaps the cloud was pressed down by its own weight, expanding as I described; it appeared occasionally bright and sometimes dark and speckled, depending on how much it was filled with earth and ash. To a learned man like my uncle, this phenomenon seemed extraordinary and worthy of further investigation. He ordered a light vessel to be prepared and allowed me to join him if I wished. I said I preferred to continue my work, and coincidentally, he had given me something to transcribe. As he was leaving the house, he received a note from Rectina, the wife of Bassus, who was in extreme distress about the immediate danger threatening her; as her villa was at the foot of Mount Vesuvius, her only escape was by sea; she urgently begged him to assist her. He thus changed his original plans, transforming what began as a philosophical inquiry into a noble and generous act. He ordered the galleys to set sail and went on board himself intending to help not only Rectina but also the other towns scattered along that beautiful coast. Racing towards the area where others were fleeing in great fear, he navigated directly towards the danger, maintaining such calmness and presence of mind that he could make and dictate his observations on the movement and all the phenomena of that dreadful scene. He was now so close to the mountain that the cinders, which grew thicker and hotter the closer he got, fell into the ships, along with pumice stones and dark burning rocks: they were at risk not only of running aground due to the sudden retreat of the sea, but also from the large debris rolling down from the mountain, blocking the entire shore. He paused to consider whether he should turn back; when the pilot advised him, "Fortune," he replied, "favors the brave; steer towards Pomponianus." Pomponianus was at Stabiae,[94] separated by a bay that the sea forms with the shore after several gentle curves. He had already sent his belongings on board; for although he was not in immediate danger at that time, being so close to it, he was determined to set sail as soon as the wind, which was blowing directly toward the shore, calmed down. It was favorable for taking my uncle to Pomponianus, whom he found in great distress: he embraced him warmly, encouraging him to stay strong, and to further soothe his fears by appearing unconcerned himself, he ordered a bath to be prepared, and after bathing, sat down to supper with great cheerfulness, or at least (just as heroically) with every appearance of it. Meanwhile, bright flames erupted in several areas from Mount Vesuvius, which the night’s darkness only made more vivid and clear. But my uncle, to calm his friend's fears, assured him it was only the burning of the abandoned villages: after this, he retired to sleep, and it is certain that he was so untroubled that he fell into a deep slumber: his breathing, which was heavy and loud due to his corpulence, was audible to the attendants outside. The corridor leading to his room was now almost filled with stones and ash, and if he had stayed there any longer, it would have been impossible for him to escape. So he was awakened and got up, going to Pomponianus and the others, who were too anxious to even consider going to bed. They discussed whether it would be more prudent to trust the houses, which were rocking side to side from frequent and violent shakes as though being uprooted, or to flee to the open fields, where the light but still dangerous rain of calcined stones and ash fell in large showers that threatened destruction. In this choice of dangers, they opted for the fields: a decision my uncle made with cool and deliberate thought, while the rest of the group were driven by their fears. They went out with pillows tied to their heads with napkins; and this was their only defense against the hail of stones that rained around them. It was day everywhere else, but there was a deeper darkness than in the thickest night; this was somewhat lessened by torches and various lights. They thought it best to go further down to the shore to see if it was safe to put out to sea, but found the waves still very high and rough. There my uncle lay down on a sailcloth spread for him, called for cold water twice, which he drank, when suddenly the flames, preceded by a strong whiff of sulfur, scattered the rest of the party and forced him to rise. With the help of two servants, he stood up, but then instantly collapsed and died; suffocated, as I suspect, by some noxious fumes, having always had a weak throat that was easily inflamed. When it became light again, not until the third day after this tragic event, his body was found intact and without any signs of violence, dressed as he had fallen, looking more like a man asleep than dead. During all this time, my mother and I, who were at Misenum—but this isn't connected to your story, and you didn’t request any details besides those of my uncle's death; so I’ll conclude here, only adding that I have faithfully recounted to you what I personally witnessed or learned immediately after the incident occurred, before there was time to alter the truth. You will extract from this narrative whatever is most important: for a letter is one thing, a history another; it is one thing to write to a friend, another to write for the public. Farewell.
LXVI — To CORNELIUS TACITUS
THE letter which, in compliance with your request, I wrote to you concerning the death of my uncle has raised, it seems, your curiosity to know what terrors and dangers attended me while I continued at Misenum; for there, I think, my account broke off:
THE letter that I wrote to you, as you asked, about my uncle's death has sparked your curiosity about the fears and dangers I faced while I was in Misenum; since I believe that's where my story ended:
"Though my shock'd soul recoils, my tongue shall tell."
"Even though my shocked soul pulls back, my tongue will speak."
My uncle having left us, I spent such time as was left on my studies (it was on their account indeed that I had stopped behind), till it was time for my bath. After which I went to supper, and then fell into a short and uneasy sleep. There had been noticed for many days before a trembling of the earth, which did not alarm us much, as this is quite an ordinary occurrence in Campania; but it was so particularly violent that night that it not only shook but actually overturned, as it would seem, everything about us. My mother rushed into my chamber, where she found me rising, in order to awaken her. We sat down in the open court of the house, which occupied a small space between the buildings and the sea. As I was at that time but eighteen years of age, I know not whether I should call my behaviour, in this dangerous juncture, courage or folly; but I took up Livy, and amused myself with turning over that author, and even making extracts from him, as if I had been perfectly at my leisure. Just then, a friend of my uncle's, who had lately come to him from Spain, joined us, and observing me sitting by my mother with a book in my hand, reproved her for her calmness, and me at the same time for my careless security: nevertheless I went on with my author. Though it was now morning, the light was still exceedingly faint and doubtful; the buildings all around us tottered, and though we stood upon open ground, yet as the place was narrow and confined, there was no remaining without imminent danger: we therefore resolved to quit the town. A panic-stricken crowd followed us, and (as to a mind distracted with terror every suggestion seems more prudent than its own) pressed on us in dense array to drive us forward as we came out. Being at a convenient distance from the houses, we stood still, in the midst of a most dangerous and dreadful scene. The chariots, which we had ordered to be drawn out, were so agitated backwards and forwards, though upon the most level ground, that we could not keep them steady, even by supporting them with large stones. The sea seemed to roll back upon itself, and to be driven from its banks by the convulsive motion of the earth; it is certain at least the shore was considerably enlarged, and several sea animals were left upon it. On the other side, a black and dreadful cloud, broken with rapid, zigzag flashes, revealed behind it variously shaped masses of flame: these last were like sheet-lightning, but much larger. Upon this our Spanish friend, whom I mentioned above, addressing himself to my mother and me with great energy and urgency: "If your brother," he said, "if your uncle be safe, he certainly wishes you may be so too; but if he perished, it was his desire, no doubt, that you might both survive him: why therefore do you delay your escape a moment?" We could never think of our own safety, we said, while we were uncertain of his. Upon this our friend left us, and withdrew from the danger with the utmost precipitation. Soon afterwards, the cloud began to descend, and cover the sea. It had already surrounded and concealed the island of Capreae and the promontory of Misenum. My mother now besought, urged, even commanded me to make my escape at any rate, which, as I was young, I might easily do; as for herself, she said, her age and corpulency rendered all attempts of that sort impossible; however, she would willingly meet death if she could have the satisfaction of seeing that she was not the occasion of mine. But I absolutely refused to leave her, and, taking her by the hand, compelled her to go with me. She complied with great reluctance, and not without many reproaches to herself for retarding my flight. The ashes now began to fall upon us, though in no great quantity. I looked back; a dense dark mist seemed to be following us, spreading itself over the country like a cloud. "Let us turn out of the high-road," I said, "while we can still see, for fear that, should we fall in the road, we should be pressed to death in the dark, by the crowds that are following us." We had scarcely sat down when night came upon us, not such as we have when the sky is cloudy, or when there is no moon, but that of a room when it is shut up, and all the lights put out. You might hear the shrieks of women, the screams of children, and the shouts of men; some calling for their children, others for their parents, others for their husbands, and seeking to recognise each other by the voices that replied; one lamenting his own fate, another that of his family; some wishing to die, from the very fear of dying; some lifting their hands to the gods; but the greater part convinced that there were now no gods at all, and that the final endless night of which we have heard had come upon the world.[95] Among these there were some who augmented the real terrors by others imaginary or wilfully invented. I remember some who declared that one part of Misenum had fallen, that another was on fire; it was false, but they found people to believe them. It now grew rather lighter, which we imagined to be rather the forerunner of an approaching burst of flames (as in truth it was) than the return of day: however, the fire fell at a distance from us: then again we were immersed in thick darkness, and a heavy shower of ashes rained upon us, which we were obliged every now and then to stand up to shake off, otherwise we should have been crushed and buried in the heap. I might boast that, during all this scene of horror, not a sigh, or expression of fear, escaped me, had not my support been grounded in that miserable, though mighty, consolation, that all mankind were involved in the same calamity, and that I was perishing with the world itself. At last this dreadful darkness was dissipated by degrees, like a cloud or smoke; the real day returned, and even the sun shone out, though with a lurid light, like when an eclipse is coming on. Every object that presented itself to our eyes (which were extremely weakened) seemed changed, being covered deep with ashes as if with snow. We returned to Misenum, where we refreshed ourselves as well as we could, and passed an anxious night between hope and fear; though, indeed, with a much larger share of the latter: for the earthquake still continued, while many frenzied persons ran up and down heightening their own and their friends' calamities by terrible predictions. However, my mother and I, notwithstanding the danger we had passed, and that which still threatened us, had no thoughts of leaving the place, till we could receive some news of my uncle.
After my uncle left us, I spent the remaining time on my studies (that was the main reason I had stayed behind) until it was time for my bath. Afterward, I had supper and then fell into a short and restless sleep. For many days prior, there had been some minor tremors, which didn’t worry us too much since they’re quite normal in Campania. But that night, the shaking was so intense that it not only rattled everything around us but seemed to knock things over completely. My mother rushed into my room just as I was getting up to wake her. We sat down in the open courtyard of our house, a small area between the buildings and the sea. At that moment, since I was only eighteen, I wasn’t sure if my actions in this dangerous situation were brave or foolish; I picked up Livy and distracted myself by flipping through the book and even making notes from it, as if I had all the time in the world. Just then, a friend of my uncle's, who had recently come from Spain, joined us and pointed out my mother's calmness and my nonchalance, telling us we should be more concerned. Still, I continued reading. Although it was now morning, the light was still very dim and uncertain; the buildings around us wobbled, and even though we were in an open area, the space was cramped and it was dangerous to stay there, so we decided to leave town. A terrified crowd followed us, and with terror clouding their judgment, they pushed us forward as we left. Once we managed to get some distance from the houses, we stopped in the middle of a truly frightening scene. The chariots we had ordered to be brought out were swaying back and forth on even ground, making it impossible to keep them stable, even with large stones for support. The sea seemed to retreat, as if pushed back by the shaking earth; at least we could see that the shore had expanded greatly, leaving several sea creatures stranded on it. On the other side, a dark and ominous cloud filled with rapid, zigzag flashes of light revealed various shapes of flames behind it. These flames looked like large sheets of lightning. Our Spanish friend, whom I mentioned earlier, turned to my mother and me with great urgency: "If your brother," he said, "if your uncle is safe, he would certainly want you both to be as well; but if he has perished, he undoubtedly wished for your survival: why do you hesitate to escape?" We couldn’t think of our safety while we were still worried about him. Then our friend hurried away from us to escape the danger. Soon after, the cloud began to descend and conceal the sea. It had already enveloped the island of Capreae and the promontory of Misenum. My mother now pleaded, insisted, and eventually demanded that I escape, which, being young, I might easily do; as for herself, she claimed her age and weight made it impossible for her to attempt such a thing; however, she would willingly face death if it meant ensuring I was safe. But I absolutely refused to leave her, and taking her by the hand, I insisted she come with me. She reluctantly agreed, reproaching herself for delaying my escape. Ashes started to fall on us, though not heavily at first. I looked back and saw a thick, dark mist following us, spreading across the land like a cloud. "Let’s go off the main road," I suggested, "while we can still see, in case we fall, we don’t want to be crushed in the dark by the crowd behind us." We had hardly sat down when night fell—not the kind caused by cloudy skies or lack of moonlight, but like a room that has been shut up with all the lights turned off. You could hear the cries of women, the screams of children, and the shouts of men; some calling for their children, others for their parents, others for their husbands, trying to recognize each other by their voices; some lamenting their own fate, others mourning for their families; some wishing for death due to the sheer terror of dying; and many praying to the gods, while most were convinced that there were no gods left and that the endless night we had heard about had engulfed the world. Among them were some who added to the real horrors with their own imagined or deliberately fabricated tales. I remember some claiming parts of Misenum had collapsed and that others were on fire; it wasn’t true, but they found people willing to believe them. It began to get somewhat lighter, which we thought was a sign of flames approaching (and it indeed was) rather than the day returning: however, the fire erupted at a distance from us; then we were engulfed in darkness again, and a heavy downpour of ashes fell upon us. We had to stand up occasionally to shake them off, or else we would be buried under them. I might have been proud to say that I didn’t show a single sign of fear during this horrifying experience, but my comfort lay in the fact that everyone else was going through the same calamity, and I was perishing alongside everyone else. Eventually, the oppressive darkness began to lift gradually, like a cloud or smoke; daylight returned, and the sun shone through, albeit with a sickly light, like during an eclipse. Everything we saw (our eyesight was extremely weakened) seemed changed, covered deep in ashes as if coated in snow. We went back to Misenum, where we tried to refresh ourselves as best as we could and spent a restless night filled with hope and fear, though mostly fear: because the earthquake was still ongoing, and many frantic people ran about, heightening everyone’s panic with their dire predictions. Still, my mother and I, despite the danger we had already faced and that which still loomed over us, had no thoughts of leaving until we heard some news about my uncle.
And now, you will read this narrative without any view of inserting it in your history, of which it is not in the least worthy; and indeed you must put it down to your own request if it should appear not worth even the trouble of a letter. Farewell.
And now, you'll read this story without thinking about adding it to your own history, which it's definitely not worthy of; and honestly, you can blame yourself if it seems not worth even the effort of a letter. Goodbye.
LX VII — To MACER
How much does the fame of human actions depend upon the station of those who perform them! The very same conduct shall be either applauded to the skies or entirely overlooked, just as it may happen to proceed from a person of conspicuous or obscure rank. I was sailing lately upon our lake,[96] with an old man of my acquaintance, who desired me to observe a villa situated upon its banks, which had a chamber overhanging the water. "From that room," said he, "a woman of our city threw herself and her husband." Upon enquiring into the cause, he informed me, "That her husband having been long afflicted with an ulcer in those parts which modesty conceals, she prevailed with him at last to let her inspect the sore, assuring him at the same time that she would most sincerely give her opinion whether there was a possibility of its being cured. Accordingly, upon viewing the ulcer, she found the case hopeless, and therefore advised him to put an end to his life: she herself accompanying him, even leading the way by her example, and being actually the means of his death; for tying herself to her husband, she plunged with him into the lake." Though this happened in the very city where I was born, I never heard it mentioned before; and yet that this action is taken less notice of than that famous one of Arria's, is not because it was less remarkable, but because the person who performed it was more obscure. Farewell.
How much does the fame of human actions depend on the status of the people who perform them! The same behavior can either be celebrated or completely ignored, depending on whether it comes from someone well-known or someone unknown. Recently, I was sailing on our lake, [96], with an old man I know, who pointed out a villa on the shore with a room that hangs over the water. "From that room," he said, "a woman from our city jumped into the lake with her husband." When I asked why, he told me, "Her husband had been suffering for a long time from an ulcer in a sensitive area. She finally convinced him to let her see it, promising that she would honestly tell him if there was any chance of it being cured. After examining the ulcer, she realized it was hopeless, so she advised him to end his life. She even went with him, leading the way by her own actions, and was actually the reason for his death; she tied herself to him and jumped into the lake together." Although this happened in the same city where I was born, I had never heard about it before; and the only reason this action gets less attention than the famous one by Arria is not because it was less significant, but because the person who did it was less well-known. Goodbye.
LXVIII — To SERVIANUS
I AM extremely glad to hear that you intend your daughter for Fuscus Salinator, and congratulate you upon it. His family is patrician,[97] and both his father and mother are persons of the most distinguished merit. As for himself, he is studious, learned, and eloquent, and, with all the innocence of a child, unites the sprightliness of youth and the wisdom of age. I am not, believe me, deceived by my affection, when I give him this character; for though I love him, I confess, beyond measure (as his friendship and esteem for me well deserve), yet partiality has no share in my judgment: on the contrary, the stronger my affection for him, the more exactingly I weigh his merit. I will venture, then, to assure you (and I speak it upon my own experience) you could not have, formed to your wishes, a more accomplished son-in-law. May he soon present you with a grandson, who shall be the exact copy of his father! and with what pleasure shall I receive from the arms of two such friends their children or grand-children, whom I shall claim a sort of right to embrace as my own! Farewell.
I’m really glad to hear that you plan for your daughter to marry Fuscus Salinator, and I want to congratulate you on that. His family is of noble background, and both his father and mother are people of great merit. As for him, he is studious, knowledgeable, and articulate, and he combines the innocence of a child with the energy of youth and the wisdom of age. I’m not just being sentimental when I say this; I love him dearly (which his friendship and regard for me definitely deserve), but my judgment isn’t clouded by bias. In fact, the more I care for him, the more carefully I consider his merits. So, I can confidently assure you (speaking from my own experience) that you couldn’t have found a more suitable son-in-law to match your wishes. May he soon give you a grandson who is just like his father! And how happy I will be to receive the children or grandchildren of such dear friends, whom I will feel entitled to embrace as my own! Goodbye.
LXIX — To SEVERUS
You desire me to consider what turn you should give to your speech in honour of the emperor,[98] upon your being appointed consul elect.[99] It is easy to find copies, not so easy to choose out of them; for his virtues afford such abundant material. However, I will write and give you my opinion, or (what I should prefer) I will let you have it in person, after having laid before you the difficulties which occur to me. I am doubtful, then, whether I should advise you to pursue the method which I observed myself on the same occasion. When I was consul elect, I avoided running into the usual strain of compliment, which, however far from adulation, might yet look like it. Not that I affected firmness and independence; but, as well knowing the sentiments of our amiable prince, and being thoroughly persuaded that the highest praise I could offer to him would be to show the world I was under no necessity of paying him any. When I reflected what profusion of honours had been heaped upon the very worst of his predecessors, nothing, I imagined, could more distinguish a prince of his real virtues from those infamous emperors than to address him in a different manner. And this I thought proper to observe in my speech, lest it might be suspected I passed over his glorious acts, not out of judgment, but inattention. Such was the method I then observed; but I am sensible the same measures are neither agreeable nor indeed suitable to all alike. Besides the propriety of doing or omitting a thing depends not only upon persons, but time and circumstances; and as the late actions of our illustrious prince afford materials for panegyric, no less just than recent and glorious, I doubt (as I said before) whether I should persuade you in the present instance to adopt the same plan as I did myself. In this, however, I am clear, that it was proper to offer you by way of advice the method I pursued. Farewell.
You want me to think about how you should shape your speech honoring the emperor upon your appointment as consul elect. It’s easy to find examples, but choosing the right one is trickier since his qualities provide so much material. Still, I’ll write to you with my thoughts, or (what I'd prefer) I can discuss it with you in person after I share some challenges I've thought about. I'm not sure if I should recommend the approach I took during my own consul elect speech. When I did it, I tried to avoid the usual excessive compliments, which may not be flattery but can still seem like it. It wasn't that I aimed for sternness or independence; I truly understood our great leader's views and was convinced that the best way to praise him was to show that I didn't need to shower him with compliments. When I thought about how many honors were thrown at the worst of his predecessors, I figured that addressing him differently would set apart a ruler of his genuine virtues from those infamous emperors. I thought it was important to reflect this in my speech, so it wouldn’t seem like I overlooked his glorious deeds due to carelessness rather than judgment. That was the approach I took then, but I realize that not everyone should follow the same path. Additionally, what is appropriate to do or not do depends not just on individuals but also on timing and circumstances; and since our noble leader's recent actions offer more than enough worthy material for praise, I’m unsure (as I mentioned earlier) if I should encourage you to use the same method I chose before. However, I'm certain it’s appropriate to share my experience with you as advice. Take care.
LXX — To FABATUS
I HAVE the best reason, certainly, for celebrating your birthday as my own, since all the happiness of mine arises from yours, to whose care and diligence it is owing that I am gay here and at my ease in town. — Your Camillian villa[100] in Campania has suffered by the injuries of time, and is falling into decay; however, the most valuable parts of the building either remain entire or are but slightly damaged, and it shall be my care to see it put into thorough repair. — Though I flatter myself I have many friends, yet I have scarcely any of the sort you enquire after, and which the affair you mention demands. All mine lie among those whose employments engage them in town; whereas the conduct of country business requires a person of a robust constitution, and bred up to the country, to whom the work may not seem hard, nor the office beneath him, and who does not feel a solitary life depressing. You think most highly of Rufus, for he was a great friend of your son's; but of what use he can be to us upon this occasion, I cannot conceive; though I am sure he will be glad to do all he can for us. Farewell.
I definitely have the best reason to celebrate your birthday as my own since all my happiness comes from yours. It's thanks to your care and hard work that I'm happy here and comfortable in town. — Your Camillian villa[100] in Campania has taken a beating from time and is falling apart; however, the most valuable parts of the building are either still intact or only slightly damaged, and I will make sure it gets fully repaired. — Although I like to think I have a lot of friends, I hardly have the kind you’re asking about, which is what this situation requires. Most of my friends are busy with city life; on the other hand, managing country affairs needs someone physically strong and accustomed to rural life, someone who doesn't find the work too hard or the role beneath them, and who isn’t discouraged by a solitary life. You think very highly of Rufus, since he was a great friend of your son, but I can’t see how he would help us in this situation, even though I'm sure he would be willing to do whatever he can. Take care.
LXXI — To CORNELIANUS
I RECEIVED lately the most exquisite satisfaction at Centumcellae[101] (as it is now called), being summoned thither by Cæsar[102] to attend a council. Could anything indeed afford a higher pleasure than to see the emperor exercising his justice, his wisdom, and his affability, even in retirement, where those virtues are most observable? Various were the points brought in judgment before him, and which proved, in so many different instances, the excellence of the judge. The cause of Claudius Ariston came on first. He is an Ephesian nobleman, of great munificence and unambitious popularity, whose virtues have rendered him obnoxious to a set of people of far different characters; they had instigated an informer against him, of the same infamous stamp with themselves; but he was honourably acquitted. The next day, the case of Galitta, accused of adultery, was heard. Her husband, who is a military tribune, was upon the point of offering himself as a candidate for certain honours at Rome, but she had stained her own good name and his by an intrigue with a centurion.[103] The husband informed the consul's lieutenant, who wrote to the emperor about it. Cæsar, having thoroughly sifted the evidence, cashiered the centurion, and sentenced him to banishment. It remained that some penalty should be inflicted likewise upon the other party, as it is a crime of which both must necessarily be equally guilty. But the husband's affection for his wife inclined him to drop that part of the prosecution, not without some reflections on his forbearance; for he continued to live with her even after he had commenced this prosecution, content, it would seem, with having removed his rival. But he was ordered to proceed in the suit: and, though he complied with great reluctance, it was necessary, nevertheless, that she should be condemned. Accordingly, she was sentenced to the punishment directed by the Julian law.[104] The emperor thought proper to specify, in his decree, the name and office of the centurion, that it might appear he passed it in virtue of military discipline; lest it should be imagined he claimed a particular cognizance in every cause of the same nature. The third day was employed in examining into an affair which had occasioned a good deal of talk and various reports; it was concerning the codicils of Julius Tiro, part of which was plainly genuine, while the other part, it was alleged, was forged. The persons accused of this fraud were Sempronius Senecio, a Roman knight, and Eurythmus, Cæsar's freedman and procurator.[105] The heirs jointly petitioned the emperor, when he was in Dacia,[106] that he would reserve to himself the trial of this cause; to which he consented. On his return from that expedition, he appointed a day for the hearing; and when some of the heirs, as though out of respect to Eurythmus, offered to withdraw the suit, the emperor nobly replied, "He is not Polycletus,[107] nor am I Nero." However, he indulged the petitioners with an adjournment, and the time being expired, he now sat to hear the cause. Two of the heirs appeared, and desired that either their whole number might be compelled to plead, as they had all joined in the information, or that they also might have leave to withdraw. Cæsar delivered his opinion with great dignity and moderation; and when the counsel on the part of Senecio and Eurythmus had represented that unless their clients were heard, they would remain under the suspicion of guilt,—"I am not concerned," said the emperor, "what suspicions they may lie under, it is I that am suspected;" and then turning to us, "Advise me," said he, "how to act in this affair, for you see they complain when allowed to withdraw their suit." At length, by the advice of the counsel, he 'ordered notice to be given to the heirs that they should either proceed with the case or each of them justify their reasons for not doing so; otherwise that he would pass sentence upon them as calumniators.[108] Thus you see how usefully and seriously we spent our time, which however was diversified with amusements of the most agreeable kind. We were every day invited to Cæsar's table, which, for so great a prince, was spread with much plainness and simplicity. There we were either entertained with interludes or passed the night in the most pleasing conversation. When we took our leave of him the last day, he made each of us presents; so studiously polite is Cæsar! As for myself, I was not only charmed with the dignity and wisdom of the judge, the honour done to the assessors, the ease and unreserved freedom of our social intercourse, but with the exquisite situation of the place itself. This delightful villa is surrounded by the greenest meadows, and overlooks the shore, which bends inwards, forming a complete harbour. The left arm of this port is defended by exceedingly strong works, while the right is in process of completion. An artificial island, which rises at the mouth of the harbour, breaks the force of the waves, and affords a safe passage to ships on either side. This island is formed by a process worth seeing: stones of a most enormous size are transported hither in a large sort of pontoons, and being piled one upon the other, are fixed by their own weight, gradually accumulating in the manner, as it were, of a natural mound. It already lifts its rocky back above the ocean, while the waves which beat upon it, being broken and tossed to an immense height, foam with a prodigious noise, and whiten all the surrounding sea. To these stones are added wooden piers, which in process of time will give it the appearance of a natural island. This haven is to be called by the name of its great author,[109] and will prove of infinite benefit, by affording a secure retreat to ships on that extensive and dangerous coast. Farewell.
I recently had the most incredible experience at Centumcellae[101]. I was called there by Caesar[102] to attend a council meeting. Can anything be more satisfying than seeing the emperor demonstrate his justice, wisdom, and kindness, even in his downtime, where those qualities are most evident? Many matters were brought to his attention, showcasing the excellence of his judgment. The first case involved Claudius Ariston, an honorable nobleman from Ephesus known for his generosity and popularity. His virtues, however, made him a target for a group of less noble individuals who enlisted a dishonest informer against him. Ultimately, he was honorably acquitted. The following day, they heard the case of Galitta, accused of adultery. She had tarnished both her reputation and that of her husband, a military tribune, by having an affair with a centurion.[103] The husband informed the consul's lieutenant, who then wrote to the emperor about it. After thoroughly reviewing the evidence, Caesar dismissed the centurion and sentenced him to exile. It was necessary to impose a penalty on Galitta as well, since both parties were equally guilty in this crime. However, the husband still cared for his wife and wanted to drop the charges, even though he felt conflicted about his leniency. He continued living with her after starting the prosecution, seemingly satisfied just to have removed his rival. But he was ordered to continue the case, and despite his reluctance, she was ultimately found guilty and punished according to the Julian law.[104] The emperor felt it was important to specify the centurion's name and title in his decree to ensure it was clear that his actions were based on military discipline, so no one could think he took special interest in every similar case. On the third day, they examined a matter that had stirred quite a bit of gossip and varying reports; it involved the wills of Julius Tiro, part of which was clearly authentic while the other part was claimed to be forged. The individuals accused of this fraud were Sempronius Senecio, a Roman knight, and Eurythmus, a freedman and procurator for Caesar.[105] The heirs jointly appealed to the emperor while he was in Dacia[106], asking him to reserve the trial for himself, to which he agreed. After returning from that campaign, he scheduled a day for the hearing. When some heirs suggested dropping the suit out of respect for Eurythmus, the emperor nobly replied, "He is not Polycletus,[107] nor am I Nero." Nevertheless, he granted the petitioners an adjournment; and when that time was up, he sat down to hear the case. Two of the heirs asked that either all of them be required to plead, since they had all joined in the complaint, or that they be allowed to withdraw. Caesar responded with great dignity and fairness, and when the counsel for Senecio and Eurythmus argued that unless their clients were heard, they'd remain suspected of wrongdoing, the emperor replied, "I am not concerned about the suspicions they may be under; it is I who is suspected." He then turned to us and said, "Advise me on how to proceed, as you can see they complain when allowed to withdraw their suit." Finally, following the counsel's advice, he ordered that the heirs be informed they must either move forward with the case or each provide justification for not doing so; otherwise, he would consider them slanderers.[108] So you can see how productively and seriously we spent our time, although it was also filled with enjoyable diversions. We were invited to Caesar's table every day, which, for such a powerful ruler, was laid out simply and plainly. There, we were either entertained with performances or spent the night in delightful conversation. When it came time to take our leave, he gave each of us gifts—how courteous of Caesar! Personally, I was not only impressed by the judge's dignity and wisdom, the respect shown to the assessors, and the comfortable and open nature of our interactions, but also by the stunning location itself. This lovely villa is surrounded by lush meadows and overlooks a cove that curves inwards, creating a natural harbor. The left side of this port is protected by robust structures, while the right is still being completed. An artificial island rising at the harbor entrance breaks the power of the waves and allows ships to pass safely on either side. The construction of this island is quite fascinating: enormous stones are brought in on large pontoons, stacked one on top of the other, and secured by their own weight, gradually forming what looks like a natural mound. It already rises above the ocean, while the waves crashing against it foam and create a tremendous noise, churning the surrounding sea into whitecaps. Wooden piers are being added to these stones, which over time will make it resemble a natural island. This harbor will be named after its esteemed creator,[109] and it will offer immense benefits by providing safe refuge for ships navigating that vast and treacherous coastline. Farewell.
LXXII — To MAXIMUS
You did perfectly right in promising a gladiatorial combat to our good friends the citizens of Verona, who have long loved, looked up to, and honoured, you; while it was from that city too you received that amiable object of your most tender affection, your late excellent wife. And since you owed some monument or public representation to her memory, what other spectacle could you have exhibited more appropriate to the occasion? Besides, you were so unanimously pressed to do so that to have refused would have looked more like hardness than resolution. The readiness too with which you granted their petition, and the magnificent manner in which you performed it, is very much to your honour; for a greatness of soul is seen in these smaller instances, as well as in matters of higher moment. I wish the African panthers, which you had largely provided for this purpose, had arrived on the day appointed, but though they were delayed by the stormy weather, the obligation to you is equally the same, since it was not your fault that they were not exhibited. Farewell.
You did absolutely the right thing by promising a gladiatorial combat to our good friends, the citizens of Verona, who have long loved, respected, and honored you; and it was from that city that you received the beautiful object of your deepest affection, your late wonderful wife. Since you owed her memory some sort of tribute or public display, what better event could you have organized for the occasion? Plus, you were so strongly urged to do this that turning it down would have seemed more callous than resolute. The eagerness with which you accepted their request, and the impressive way you executed it, is very much to your credit; because true greatness is evident in both small gestures and more significant matters. I wish the African panthers you had arranged for this event had arrived on the scheduled day, but even though they were delayed by the bad weather, your obligation remains the same, since it wasn’t your fault they weren’t able to be shown. Take care.
LXXIII — To RESTITUTUS
THIS obstinate illness of yours alarms me; and though I know how extremely temperate you are, yet I fear lest your disease should get the better of your moderation. Let me entreat you then to resist it with a determined abstemiousness: a remedy, be assured, of all others the most laudable as well as the most salutary. Human nature itself admits the practicability of what I recommend: it is a rule, at least, which I always enjoin my family to observe with respect to myself. "I hope," I say to them, "that should I be attacked with any disorder, I shall desire nothing of which I ought either to be ashamed or have reason to repent; however, if my distemper should prevail over my resolution, I forbid that anything be given me but by the consent of my physicians; and I shall resent your compliance with me in things improper as much as another man would their refusal." I once had a most violent fever; when the fit was a little abated, and I had been anointed,[110] my physician offered me something to drink; I held out my hand, desiring he would first feel my pulse, and upon his not seeming quite satisfied, I instantly returned the cup, though it was just at my lips. Afterwards, when I was preparing to go into the bath, twenty days from the first attack of my illness, perceiving the physicians whispering together, I enquired what they were saying. They replied they were of opinion I may possibly bathe with safety, however that they were not without some suspicion of risk. "What need is there," said I, "of my taking a bath at all?" And so, with perfect calmness and tranquillity, I gave up a pleasure I was upon the point of enjoying, and abstained from the bath as serenely and composedly as though I were going into it. I mention this, not only by way of enforcing my advice by example, but also that this letter may be a sort of tie upon me to persevere in the same resolute abstinence for the future. Farewell.
THIS stubborn illness of yours worries me; and even though I know how moderate you are, I fear that your disease might overwhelm your self-control. Let me urge you to fight it with strong restraint: a remedy that is, without a doubt, both admirable and beneficial. Human nature itself acknowledges the feasibility of what I'm suggesting: it’s a principle I always encourage my family to follow concerning myself. "I hope," I tell them, "that if I fall ill, I won't desire anything I should be ashamed of or regret; however, if my illness does overwhelm my determination, I insist that nothing be given to me without my doctors' approval; and I will resent your compliance with me regarding inappropriate things just as much as another person would resent a refusal." I once had a severe fever; when the symptoms eased a bit, and I had been treated, my doctor offered me something to drink. I extended my hand, asking him to check my pulse first, and when he seemed uncertain, I immediately returned the cup even though it was at my lips. Later, when I was preparing to go into the bath twenty days after the onset of my illness, I noticed the doctors whispering together and asked what they were discussing. They replied that they thought I might be able to bathe safely, though they were somewhat concerned about the risk. "Why do I even need to take a bath?" I asked, and with complete calm and composure, I gave up a pleasure I was about to enjoy and refrained from the bath as serenely as if I were actually going in. I mention this not only to reinforce my advice through example but also to ensure that this letter serves as a reminder for me to maintain that same strong self-restraint in the future. Farewell.
LXXIV — To CALPURNIA[111]
You will not believe what a longing for you possesses me. The chief cause of this is my love; and then we have not grown used to be apart. So it comes to pass that I lie awake a great part of the night, thinking of you; and that by day, when the hours return at which I was wont to visit you, my feet take me, as it is so truly said, to your chamber, but not finding you there, I return, sick and sad at heart, like an excluded lover. The only time that is free from these torments is when I am being worn out at the bar, and in the suits of my friends. Judge you what must be my life when I find my repose in toil, my solace in wretchedness and anxiety. Farewell.
You won’t believe how much I long for you. The main reason for this is my love; plus, we’re not used to being apart. So, I end up lying awake most of the night, thinking about you. And during the day, when the times come around when I used to visit you, my feet lead me, as they say, to your room, but when I find you’re not there, I go back, sick and heartbroken, like a rejected lover. The only time I’m free from this torment is when I’m worn out at work or dealing with my friends’ issues. Just imagine what my life is like when I find my rest in hard work and my comfort in misery and worry. Goodbye.
LXXV — To MACRINUS
A VERY singular and remarkable accident has happened in the affair of Varenus,[112] the result of which is yet doubtful. The Bithynians, it is said, have dropped their prosecution of him being convinced at last that it was rashly undertaken. A deputy from that province is arrived, who has brought with him a decree of their assembly; copies of which he has delivered to Cæsar,[113] and to several of the leading men in Rome, and also to us, the advocates for Varenus. Magnus,[114] nevertheless, whom I mentioned in my last letter to you, persists in his charge, to support which he is incessantly teasing the worthy Nigrinus. This excellent person was counsel for him in his former petition to the consuls, that Varenus might be compelled to produce his accounts. Upon this occasion, as I attended Varenus merely as a friend, I determined to be silent. I thought it highly imprudent for me, as I was appointed his counsel by the senate, to attempt to defend him as an accused person, when it was his business to insist that there was actually no charge subsisting against him. However, when Nigrinus had finished his speech, the consuls turning their eyes upon me, I rose up, and, "When you shall hear," I said, "what the real deputies from the province have to object against the motion of Nigrinus, you will see that my silence was not without just reason." Upon this Nigrinus asked me, "To whom are these deputies sent?" I replied, "To me among others; I have the decree of the province in my hands." He returned, "That is a point which, though it may be clear to you, I am not so well satisfied of." To this I answered, "Though it may not be so evident to you, who are concerned to support the accusation, it may be perfectly clear to me, who am on the more favourable side." Then Polyaenus, the deputy from the province, acquainted the senate with the reasons for superseding the prosecution, but desired it might be without prejudice to Cæsar's determination. Magnus answered him; Polyaenus replied; as for myself, I only now and then threw in a word, observing in general a complete silence. For I have learned that upon some occasions it is as much an orator's business to be silent as to speak, and I remember, in some criminal cases, to have done even more service to my clients by a discreet silence than I could have expected from the most carefully prepared speech. To enter into the subject of eloquence is indeed very foreign to the purpose of my letter, yet allow me to give you one instance in proof of my last observation. A certain lady having lost her son suspected that his freedmen, whom he had appointed coheirs with her, were guilty of forging the will and poisoning him. Accordingly she charged them with the fact before the emperor, who directed Julianus Suburanus to try the cause. I was counsel for the defendants, and the case being exceedingly remarkable, and the counsel engaged on both sides of eminent ability, it drew together a very numerous audience. The issue was, the servants being put to the torture, my clients were acquitted. But the mother applied a second time to the emperor, pretending she had discovered some new evidence. Suburanus was therefore directed to hear the cause, and see if she could produce any fresh proofs. Julius Africanus was counsel for the mother, a young man of good parts, but slender experience. He is grandson to the famous orator of that name, of whom it is reported that Passienus Crispus, hearing him one day plead, archly said, "Very fine, I must confess, very fine; but is all this fine speaking to the purpose?" Julius Africanus, I say, having made a long harangue, and exhausted the portion of time allotted to him, said, "I beg you, Suburanus, to allow me to add one word more." When he had concluded, and the eyes of the whole assembly had been fixed a considerable time upon me, I rose up. "I would have answered Africanus," said I, "if he had added that one word he begged leave to do, in which I doubt not he would have told us all that we had not heard before." I do not remember to have gained so much applause by any speech that I ever made as I did in this instance by making none. Thus the little that I had hitherto said for Varenus was received with the same general approbation. The consuls, agreeably to the request of Polyaenus, reserved the whole affair for the determination of the emperor, whose resolution I impatiently wait for; as that will decide whether I may be entirely secure and easy with respect to Varenus, or must again renew all my trouble and anxiety upon his account. Farewell.
A very unusual and significant incident has occurred regarding Varenus,[112] the outcome of which is still uncertain. It seems the Bithynians have stopped their pursuit of him, finally realizing that it was a reckless move. A representative from that province has arrived, bringing a decree from their assembly; copies have been given to Caesar,[113] several prominent figures in Rome, and also to us, the advocates for Varenus. However, Magnus,[114] whom I mentioned in my last letter, is still pushing his accusation, continually putting pressure on the reputable Nigrinus. Nigrinus served as counsel for him in his previous appeal to the consuls, asking that Varenus be forced to present his accounts. In this situation, since I attended Varenus merely as a friend, I decided to remain silent. I thought it would be unwise for me, having been appointed his counsel by the Senate, to try to defend him as if he were actually accused, when it was his job to assert that there weren't any charges against him. However, when Nigrinus finished speaking and the consuls looked at me, I stood up and said, "When you hear what the actual representatives from the province have to say regarding Nigrinus's motion, you'll see that my silence was justified." Nigrinus then asked me, "Who are these deputies sent to?" I replied, "To me, among others; I have the province's decree here." He responded, "That's something that, while it may be clear to you, I'm not so sure about." I answered, "Although it may not be evident to you, given your interest in supporting the accusation, it’s clear enough to me, who am on the more favorable side." Then Polyaenus, the representative from the province, informed the Senate about the reasons for dropping the prosecution but requested that this be without prejudice to Caesar's decision. Magnus replied to him; Polyaenus responded; as for me, I only occasionally interjected, generally maintaining complete silence. I've learned that in some situations, it's just as important for an orator to be silent as to speak, and I recall having been more helpful to my clients through careful silence than I could have been with the best-crafted speech. Discussing eloquence is somewhat off-topic for this letter, but let me give you one example to support my point. A certain woman, having lost her son, suspected that his freedmen, whom he'd named coheirs with her, were guilty of forging the will and poisoning him. Consequently, she accused them before the emperor, who assigned Julianus Suburanus to handle the case. I was the counsel for the defendants, and since the case was particularly remarkable, and the lawyers on both sides were of high caliber, it attracted a large audience. In the end, after the servants were tortured, my clients were acquitted. However, the mother approached the emperor again, claiming she had new evidence. Suburanus was then instructed to hear the case and check if she could provide any additional proof. Julius Africanus, a capable but inexperienced young lawyer, represented the mother. He is the grandson of the famous orator by the same name, who, it is said, was once humorously remarked upon by Passienus Crispus while he was pleading: "Very fine, I must admit, very fine; but is all this fine talking relevant?" Julius Africanus, after giving a lengthy speech and using up his time, asked Suburanus if he could add one more word. Once he finished and everyone’s gaze was on me for a significant time, I stood up and said, "I would have responded to Africanus if he had provided that one word he requested, which I am sure would have told us what we hadn't heard before." I don’t remember receiving more applause for any speech than I did in this instance by saying nothing. Consequently, the little I had previously said for Varenus received similar approval. The consuls, following Polyaenus's request, set aside the whole matter for the emperor's decision, which I eagerly await; that will determine whether I can be completely at ease regarding Varenus or must once again face all my concerns and troubles about him. Farewell.
LXXVI — To TUSCUS
You desire my opinion as to the method of study you should pursue, in that retirement to which you have long since withdrawn. In the first place, then, I look upon it as a very advantageous practice (and it is what many recommend) to translate either from Greek into Latin or from Latin into Greek. By this means you acquire propriety and dignity of expression, and a variety of beautiful figures, and an ease and strength of exposition, and in the imitation of the best models a facility of creating such models for yourself. Besides, those things which you may possibly have overlooked in an ordinary reading over cannot escape you in translating: and this method will also enlarge your knowledge, and improve your judgment. It may not be amiss, after you have read an author, to turn, as it were, to his rival, and attempt something ol your own upon the same topic, and then make a careful comparison between your performance and his, in order to see in what points either you or he may be the happier. You may congratulate yourself indeed if you shall find in some things that you have the advantage of him, while it will be a great mortification if he is always superior. You may sometimes select very famous passages and compete with what you select. The competition is daring enough, but, as it is private, cannot be called impudent. Not but that we have seen instances of persons who have publicly entered this sort of lists with great credit to themselves, and, while they did not despair of overtaking, have gloriously outstripped those whom they thought it sufficient honour to follow. A speech no longer fresh in your memory, you may take up again. You will find plenty in it to leave unaltered, but still more to reject; you will add a new thought here, and alter another there. It is a laborious and tedious task, I own, thus to re-enflame the mind after the first heat is over, to recover an impulse when its force has been checked and spent, and, worse than all, to put new limbs into a body already complete without disturbing the old; but the advantage attending this method will overbalance the difficulty. I know the bent of your present attention is directed towards the eloquence of the bar; but I would not for that reason advise you never to quit the polemic, if I may so call it, and contentious style. As land is improved by sowing it with various seeds, constantly changed, so is the mind by exercising it now with this subject of study, now with that. I would recommend you, therefore, sometimes to take a subject from history, and you might give more care to the composition of your letters. For it frequently happens that in pleading one has occasion to make use not only of historical, but even poetical, styles of description; and then from letters you acquire a concise and simple mode of expression. You will do quite right again in refreshing yourself with poetry: when I say so, I do not mean that species of poetry which turns upon subjects of great length and continuity (such being suitable only for persons of leisure), but those little pieces of the sprightly kind of poesy, which serve as proper reliefs to, and are consistent with, employments of every sort. They commonly go under the title of poetical amusements; but these amusements have sometimes gained their authors as much reputation as works of a more serious nature; and thus (for while I am exhorting you to poetry, why should I not turn poet myself?)
You want my advice on how to study while you're in the quiet retreat you've chosen. First off, I think it's really beneficial (and a common recommendation) to translate either from Greek to Latin or from Latin to Greek. This way, you'll gain a proper and dignified way of expressing yourself, a range of beautiful styles, and an ease and strength in your writing. By imitating great models, you'll also develop your own ability to create. Additionally, things you might overlook in a casual reading will become clear when you're translating, and this approach will broaden your knowledge and sharpen your judgment. After reading an author, it might be a good idea to contrast your work with theirs on the same topic, and carefully compare your writing with theirs to see where either of you excel. You'll feel proud if you find that you're better in some areas, but it can be disappointing if they always come out on top. You can also pick well-known passages and challenge yourself to improve on them. Though it’s a bold competition, it’s private and not disrespectful. We've seen people successfully compete in public as well, and many have not only caught up to but also surpassed those they admired. If you come back to a speech that's faded from memory, you'll find plenty to keep the same but even more to change; you’ll add new ideas here and modify others there. It's a tough and tedious process to reignite that initial excitement, to find motivation after it has faded, and, worst of all, to add new parts to a fully formed piece without disrupting the old. However, the benefits of this method outweigh the challenges. I know you’re currently focused on the art of rhetoric, but I wouldn’t suggest you completely abandon debate and argumentative styles. Just like land improves with various seeds, your mind also improves by regularly switching up your topics of study. So sometimes, consider taking a historical subject, and pay more attention to how you write your letters. Often, when arguing, you need to use both historical and poetic styles, and writing letters will help you develop a concise and straightforward way of expressing yourself. It’s also a good idea to refresh yourself with poetry. When I say this, I don’t mean long, drawn-out works (those are more suitable for people with free time), but rather short, lively pieces that provide a nice break and fit with all kinds of work. These are often called light poetry, but they can sometimes earn their writers just as much recognition as more serious works. And while I’m here encouraging you to explore poetry, why not let myself be inspired, too?
"As yielding wax the artist's skill commands,
Submissive shap'd beneath his forming hands;
Now dreadful stands in arms a Mars confest;
Or now with Venus's softer air imprest;
A wanton Cupid now the mould belies;
Now shines, severely chaste, a Pallas wife:
As not alone to quench the raging flame,
The sacred fountain pours her friendly stream;
But sweetly gliding through the flow'ry green,
Spreads glad refreshment o'er the smiling scene:
So, form'd by science, should the ductile mind
Receive, distinct, each various art refin'd."
"As yielding wax, the artist skillfully shapes, Submissively formed beneath their guiding hands; Now, a fearsome Mars stands armed and ready; Or now, with Venus's gentler charm expressed; A playful Cupid now misrepresents the mold; Now shines, with strict purity, a Pallas wife: Just as, to not just extinguish the fierce flame, The sacred fountain pours its friendly flow; But sweetly flowing through the blossoming green, Brings joyful refreshment to the cheerful scene: So, shaped by knowledge, should the flexible mind Receive, clearly, each refined art."
In this manner the greatest men, as well as the greatest orators, used either to exercise or amuse themselves, or rather indeed did both. It is surprising how much the mind is enlivened and refreshed by these little poetical compositions, as they turn upon love, hatred, satire, tenderness, politeness, and everything, in short, that concerns life and the affairs of the world. Besides, the same advantage attends these, as every other sort of poems, that we turn from them to prose with so much the more pleasure after having experienced the difficulty of being constrained and fettered by metre. And now, perhaps, I have troubled you upon this subject longer than you desired; however, there is one thing I have left out: I have not told you what kind of authors you should read; though indeed that was sufficiently implied when I told you on what you should write. Remember to be careful in your choice of authors of every kind: for, as it has been well observed, "though we should read much, we should not read many books." Who those authors are, is so clearly settled, and so generally known, that I need not particularly specify them; besides, I have already extended this letter to such an immoderate length that, while suggesting how you ought to study, I have, I fear, been actually interrupting your studies. I will here resign you therefore to your tablets, either to resume the studies in which you were before engaged or to enter upon some of those I have recommended. Farewell.
In this way, the greatest thinkers and orators often used their time to either exercise or entertain themselves, or really, they did both. It's amazing how much these little poetic pieces can uplift and refresh the mind, as they touch on love, hatred, satire, tenderness, politeness, and everything else related to life and worldly matters. Additionally, like all types of poetry, they have the benefit of making our return to prose even more enjoyable after experiencing the constraints of meter. Now, I may have taken more of your time on this topic than you wanted; however, there's one thing I haven't mentioned: I haven't told you which authors you should read, even though I implied it when I discussed what you should write. Be cautious in your selection of authors across the board, because, as it's been wisely noted, "while we should read a lot, we shouldn't read too many books." The authors who should be in your reading list are well-established and widely known, so I don’t need to list them here. Besides, I've already written this letter to such a lengthy degree that, while advising you on how to study, I fear I've interrupted your studies instead. So, I’ll leave you to your writing, whether to continue the studies you were working on or to start some of the ones I suggested. Take care.
LXX VII — To FABATUS (HIS WIFE'S GRANDFATHER)
You are surprised, I find, that my share of five-twelfths of the estate which lately fell to me, and which I had directed to be sold to the best bidder, should have been disposed of by my freedman Hermes to Corellia (without putting it up to auction) at the rate of seven hundred thousand sesterces[115] for the whole. And as you think it might have fetched nine hundred thousand,[116] you are so much the more desirous to know whether I am inclined to ratify what he has done. I am; and listen, while I tell you why, for I hope that not only you will approve, but also that my fellow-coheirs will excuse me for having, upon a motive of superior obligation, separated my interest from theirs. I have the highest esteem for Corellia, both as the sister of Rufus, whose memory will always be a sacred one to me, and as my mother's intimate friend. Besides, that excellent man Minutius Tuscus, her husband, has every claim to my affection that a long friendship can give him; as there was likewise the closest intimacy between her son and me, so much so indeed that I fixed upon him to preside at the games which I exhibited when I was elected praetor. This lady, when I was last in the country, expressed a strong desire for some place upon the borders of our lake of Comum; I therefore made her an offer, at her own price, of any part of my land there, except what came to me from my father and mother; for that I could not consent to part with, even to Corellia, and accordingly when the inheritance in question fell to me, I wrote to let her know it was to be sold. This letter I sent by Hermes, who, upon her requesting him that he would immediately make over to her my proportion of it, consented. Am I not then obliged to confirm what my freedman has thus done in pursuance of my inclinations? I have only to entreat my fellow-coheirs that they will not take it ill at my hands that I have made a separate sale of what I had certainly a right to dispose of. They are not bound in any way to follow my example, since they have not the same connections with Corellia. They are at full liberty therefore to be guided by interest, which in my own case I chose to sacrifice to friendship. Farewell.
You're surprised that my share of five-twelfths of the estate, which I recently inherited and decided to sell to the highest bidder, was sold by my freedman Hermes to Corellia (without putting it up for auction) for seven hundred thousand sesterces for the whole thing. Since you think it might have sold for nine hundred thousand, you're even more interested to know if I’m okay with what he did. I am, and let me explain why, as I hope you’ll not only approve but that my fellow heirs will understand why I, for a greater reason, separated my interests from theirs. I hold Corellia in high regard, both as the sister of Rufus, whose memory I’ll always cherish, and as my mother’s close friend. Additionally, her husband, the excellent Minutius Tuscus, has every right to my affection due to our long friendship. There was also a strong bond between her son and me—so much so that I chose him to preside over the games I held when I was elected praetor. When I was last in the country, this lady expressed a strong interest in acquiring some land on the borders of our lake of Comum; so, I offered her any part of my land there at her own price, except for what I inherited from my parents, as I couldn’t part with that, even for Corellia. When I inherited the estate, I wrote to her to let her know it was going to be sold. I sent this letter with Hermes, who, at her request, agreed to immediately transfer my share to her. Am I not then obligated to confirm what my freedman has done according to my wishes? I just ask my fellow heirs not to take it the wrong way that I made a separate sale of what I certainly had a right to dispose of. They are not obliged to follow my lead, as they don’t have the same connections with Corellia. Therefore, they are free to act based on their interests, which I chose to sacrifice for friendship. Goodbye.
LXXVIII — To CORELLIA
You are truly generous to desire and insist that I take for my share of the estate you purchased of me, not after the rate of seven hundred thousand sesterces for the whole, as my freedman sold it to you; but in the proportion of nine hundred thousand, agreeably to what you gave to the farmers of the twentieths for their part. But I must desire and insist in my turn that you would consider not only what is suitable to your character, but what is worthy of mine; and that you would suffer me to oppose your inclination in this single instance, with the same warmth that I obey it in all others. Farewell.
You’re really generous to want and insist that I take my share of the estate you bought from me, not at the rate of seven hundred thousand sesterces for the whole thing, as my freedman sold it to you; but based on nine hundred thousand, like what you paid to the farmers for their part. However, I need to insist that you think about not just what suits your character, but what is worthy of mine; and that you allow me to go against your wishes in this one case, just as passionately as I follow them in all other instances. Goodbye.
LXXIX — To CELER
EVERY author has his particular reasons for reciting his works; mine, I have often said, are, in order, if any error should have escaped my own observation (as no doubt they do escape it sometimes), to have it pointed out to me. I cannot therefore but be surprised to find (what your letter assures me) that there are some who blame me for reciting my speeches: unless, perhaps, they are of opinion that this is the single species of composition that ought to be held exempt from any correction. If so, I would willingly ask them why they allow (if indeed they do allow) that history may be recited, since it is a work which ought to be devoted to truth, not ostentation? or why tragedy, as it is composed for action and the stage, not for being read to a private audience? or lyric poetry, as it is not a reader, but a chorus of voices and instruments that it requires? They will reply, perhaps, that in the instances referred to custom has made the practice in question usual: I should be glad to know, then, if they think the person who first introduced this practice is to be condemned? Besides the rehearsal of speeches is no unprecedented thing either with us or the Grecians. Still, perhaps, they will insist that it can answer no purpose to recite a speech which has already been delivered. True; if one were immediately to repeat the very same speech word for word, and to the very same audience; but if you make several additions and alterations; if your audience is composed partly of the same, and partly of different persons, and the recital is at some distance of time, why is there less propriety in rehearsing your speech than in publishing it? "But it is difficult," the objectors urge, "to give satisfaction to an audience by the mere recital of a speech;" that is a consideration which concerns the particular skill and pains of the person who rehearses, but by no means holds good against recitation in general. The truth is, it is not whilst I am reading, but when I am read, that I aim at approbation; and upon this principle I omit no sort of correction. In the first place, I frequently go carefully over what I have written, by myself, after this I read it out to two or three friends, and then give it to others to make their remarks. If after this I have any doubt concerning the justness of their observations, I carefully weigh them again with a friend or two; and, last of all, I recite them to a larger audience, then is the time, believe me, when I correct most energetically and unsparingly; for my care and attention rise in proportion to my anxiety; as nothing renders the judgment so acute to detect error as that deference, modesty, and diffidence one feels upon those occasions. For tell me, would you not be infinitely less affected were you to speak before a single person only, though ever so learned, than before a numerous assembly, even though composed of none but illiterate people? When you rise up to plead, are you not at that juncture, above all others, most self-distrustful? and do you not wish, I will not say some particular parts only, but that the whole arrangement of your intended speech were altered? especially if the concourse should be large in which you are to speak? for there is something even in a low and vulgar audience that strikes one with awe. And if you suspect you are not well received at the first opening of your speech, do you not find all your energy relaxed, and feel yourself ready to give way? The reason I imagine to be that there is a certain weight of collective opinion in a multitude, and although each individual judgment is, perhaps, of little value, yet when united it becomes considerable. Accordingly, Pomponius Secundus, the famous tragic poet, whenever some very intimate friend and he differed about the retaining or rejecting anything in his writings, used to say, "I appeal[117] to the people"; and thus, by their silence or applause, adopted either his own or his friend's opinion; such was the deference he paid to the popular judgment! Whether justly or not, is no concern of mine, as I am not in the habit of reciting my works publicly, but only to a select circle, whose presence I respect, and whose judgment I value; in a word, whose opinions I attend to as if they were so many individuals I had separately consulted, at the same time that I stand in as much awe before them as I should before the most numerous assembly. What Cicero says of composing will, in my opinion, hold true of the dread we have of the public: "Fear is the most rigid critic imaginable." The very thought of reciting, the very entrance into an assembly, and the agitated concern when one is there; each of these circumstances tends to improve and perfect an author's performance. Upon the whole, therefore, I cannot repent of a practice which I have found by experience so exceedingly useful; and am so far from being discouraged by the trifling objections of these censors that I request you would point out to me if there is yet any other kind of correction, that I may also adopt it; for nothing can sufficiently satisfy my anxiety to render my compositions perfect. I reflect what an undertaking it is resigning any work into the hands of the public; and I cannot but be persuaded that frequent revisals, and many consultations, must go to the perfecting of a performance, which one desires should universally and forever please. Farewell.
EVERY author has his own reasons for sharing his work; mine, as I've often said, are to catch any mistakes that might have slipped past my attention (which they surely do sometimes). So, I’m surprised to hear (as your letter informs me) that some people criticize me for delivering my speeches. Unless they think this is the only type of writing that shouldn't be open to correction. If that's the case, I’d like to ask them why they accept that history can be recited, since it should focus on truth, not showiness. Or why tragedies, which are meant for action and performance, not for reading to a private group? Or lyric poetry, which needs a chorus of voices and instruments, not just a reader? They might reply that custom has made the practice acceptable in those cases; then I’d love to know if they believe the person who first started this practice should be condemned. Moreover, rehearsing speeches isn't unprecedented either for us or the Greeks. Still, they might insist that reciting a speech that’s already been delivered serves no purpose. That's true if you're just repeating the same speech word for word to the same audience. But if you make several additions and changes, if your audience is a mix of familiar and new people, and a good amount of time has passed, why is it less appropriate to rehearse your speech than it is to publish it? “But it’s hard,” the critics argue, “to satisfy an audience with just the delivery of a speech." That concerns the skill and effort of the person delivering it, but it doesn’t apply against recitation in general. The truth is, I look for approval not while I'm reading, but when I’m being read; and based on that principle, I don’t skip any corrections. First, I carefully review what I’ve written on my own; then I read it to a couple of friends, and afterward give it to others for their feedback. If I have doubts about their observations, I carefully rethink them with a friend or two; and finally, I present them to a larger audience, which is the time when I correct things most vigorously and thoroughly. My effort and focus increase with my anxiety; nothing sharpens my judgment about errors like the respect, humility, and nervousness I feel in those situations. Just think about it: wouldn’t you be far less affected if you spoke before just one person, no matter how knowledgeable, than in front of a large crowd, even if they were entirely uneducated? When you stand up to speak, aren’t you especially uncertain at that moment? And don’t you wish, not just that specific parts, but the entire structure of your intended speech was different? Especially if you’re addressing a large group? There’s something about even a lowly audience that makes you feel a bit awestruck. And if you sense that your speech isn’t being well received from the beginning, don’t you find your confidence waning and feel ready to back down? I believe this happens because there’s a certain weight to collective opinion in a crowd; even if each individual judgment may seem insignificant, together they carry weight. For instance, Pomponius Secundus, the well-known tragic poet, whenever he and a close friend disagreed about keeping or dropping something in his work, would say, “I appeal to the people”; and based on their silence or applause, he would choose between his view or his friend's. Such was his respect for public opinion! Whether this was right or wrong isn’t my concern, as I usually only recite my work privately, to a small circle whose presence I respect and whose opinions I value; in other words, I treat their thoughts as if they were many individuals I consulted separately, while still feeling as much awe before them as I would before a larger crowd. What Cicero said about composing, in my opinion, also holds true about our fear of the public: “Fear is the sternest critic you can have.” The very idea of reciting, the mere act of entering an assembly, and the nervousness felt once you’re there—all these circumstances help improve and refine an author’s performance. Overall, I can’t regret a practice that I've found incredibly useful through experience; and instead of being discouraged by the minor complaints of these critics, I ask you to let me know if there are any other types of corrections I should consider, as nothing can satisfy my desire to make my compositions perfect. I realize how significant it is to hand any work over to the public, and I firmly believe that frequent revisions and multiple discussions are essential to perfecting a piece that one hopes will be appreciated now and always. Farewell.
LXXX — To PRISCUS
THE illness of my friend Fannia gives me great concern. She contracted it during her attendance on Junia, one of the Vestal virgins, engaging in this good office at first voluntarily, Junia being her relation, and afterwards being appointed to it by an order from the college of priests: for these virgins, when excessive ill-health renders it necessary to remove them from the temple of Vesta, are always delivered over to the care and custody of some venerable matron. It was owing to her assiduity in the execution of this charge that she contracted her present dangerous disorder, which is a continual fever, attended with a cough that increases daily. She is extremely emaciated, and every part of her seems in a total decay except her spirits: those, indeed, she fully keeps up; and in a way altogether worthy the wife of Helvidius, and the daughter of Thrasea. In all other respects there is such a falling away that I am more than apprehensive upon her account; I am deeply afflicted. I grieve, my friend, that so excellent a woman is going to be removed from the eyes of the world, which will never, perhaps, again behold her equal. So pure she is, so pious, so wise and prudent, so brave and steadfast! Twice she followed her husband into exile, and the third time she was banished herself upon his account. For Senecio, when arraigned for writing the life of Helvidius, having said in his defence that he composed that work at the request of Fannia, Metius Carus, with a stern and threatening air, asked her whether she had made that request, and she replied, "I made it." Did she supply him likewise with materials for the purpose? "I did." Was her mother privy to this transaction? "She was not." In short, throughout her whole examination, not a word escaped her which betrayed the smallest fear. On the contrary, she had preserved a copy of those very books which the senate, over-awed by the tyranny of the times, had ordered to be suppressed, and at the same time the effects of the author to be confiscated, and carried with her into exile the very cause of her exile. How pleasing she is, how courteous, and (what is granted to few) no less lovable than worthy of all esteem and admiration! Will she hereafter be pointed out as a model to all wives; and perhaps be esteemed worthy of being set forth as an example of fortitude even to our sex; since, while we still have the pleasure of seeing and conversing with her, we contemplate her with the same admiration, as those heroines who are celebrated in ancient story? For myself, I confess, I cannot but tremble for this illustrious house, which seems shaken to its very foundations, and ready to fall; for though she will leave descendants behind her, yet what a height of virtue must they attain, what glorious deeds must they perform, ere the world will be persuaded that she was not the last of her family! It is an additional affliction and anguish to me that by her death I seem to lose her mother a second time; that worthy mother (and what can I say higher in her praise?) of so noble a woman! who, as she was restored to me in her daughter, so she will now again be taken from me, and the loss of Fannia will thus pierce my heart at once with a fresh, and at the same time re-opened, wound. I so truly loved and honoured them both, that I know not which I loved the best; a point they desired might ever remain undetermined. In their prosperity and their adversity I did them every kindness in my power, and was their comforter in exile, as well as their avenger at their return. But I have not yet paid them what I owe, and am so much the more solicitous for the recovery of this lady, that I may have time to discharge my debt to her. Such is the anxiety and sorrow under which I write this letter! But if some divine power should happily turn it into joy, I shall not complain of the alarms I now suffer. Farewell.
THE illness of my friend Fannia deeply concerns me. She caught it while caring for Junia, one of the Vestal virgins. Initially, she took on this role willingly, since Junia is her relative, and later she was officially assigned to it by the priesthood. When these virgins become too ill to remain in the temple of Vesta, they are always placed in the care of a respected matron. It was because of her dedication in this role that she developed her current dangerous condition—a persistent fever accompanied by a worsening cough. She is extremely thin, and every part of her appears to be in a state of decline, except for her spirit, which she maintains impressively—truly worthy of the wife of Helvidius and the daughter of Thrasea. In every other aspect, there is such a decline that I am increasingly worried about her. I feel deeply saddened. I grieve, my friend, that such an excellent woman is about to be taken from the world’s view, which may never see her equal again. She is so pure, so pious, so wise and sensible, so brave and steadfast! She followed her husband into exile twice, and the third time she was exiled herself for his sake. When Senecio was on trial for writing Helvidius’s biography and claimed he did it at Fannia’s request, Metius Carus, stern and threatening, asked her if that was true, and she replied, "I made that request." Did she provide him with materials for it? "I did." Was her mother aware of this? "She was not." Throughout her examination, not a single word showed the slightest fear. Instead, she held onto a copy of those very books that the senate, intimidated by the tyranny of the time, had ordered to be suppressed, even carrying the very reason for her exile with her into exile. How charming she is, how polite, and (which is rare) just as lovable as she is deserving of all respect and admiration! Will she be seen as a model for all wives and perhaps deemed an example of bravery even to men? While we still have the pleasure of seeing and talking to her, we admire her just as we do the heroines from ancient stories. For me, I admit, I can’t help but feel anxious for this illustrious family, which seems shaken to its very core and on the verge of collapse; even though she will leave descendants, what extraordinary virtues must they achieve, what remarkable deeds must they do, before the world believes she wasn’t the last of her line? It adds to my sorrow and grief that with her death, I feel I’m losing her mother a second time; that worthy mother (and what greater praise can I give?) of such a noble woman! Just as her daughter has been returned to me, she will now be taken away, and losing Fannia will reopen a fresh wound in my heart. I loved and respected them both so much that I cannot determine which I loved more, a point they wanted to remain undecided. In their good times and their bad times, I did everything I could for them and comforted them in exile, as well as avenged them upon their return. But I haven’t yet repaid them what I owe, and I’m even more anxious for this lady’s recovery, hoping to have time to settle my debt to her. Such is the anxiety and sorrow under which I write this letter! But if some divine force could turn this into joy, I won’t complain about the distress I currently feel. Farewell.
LXXXI — To GEMINIUS
NUMIDIA QUADRATILLA is dead, having almost reached her eightieth year. She enjoyed, up to her last illness, uninterrupted good health, and was unusually stout and robust for one of her sex. She has left a very prudent will, having disposed of two-thirds of her estate to her grandson, and the rest to her grand-daughter. The young lady I know very slightly, but the grandson is one of my most intimate friends. He is a remarkable young man, and his merit entitles him to the affection of a relation, even where his blood does not. Notwithstanding his remarkable personal beauty, he escaped every malicious imputation both whilst a boy and when a youth: he was a husband at four-and-twenty, and would have been a father if Providence had not disappointed his hopes. He lived in the family with his grandmother, who was exceedingly devoted to the pleasures of the town, yet observed great severity of conduct himself, while always perfectly deferential and submissive to her. She retained a set of pantomimes, and was an encourager of this class of people to a degree inconsistent with one of her sex and rank. But Quadratus never appeared at these entertainments, whether she exhibited them in the theatre or in her own house; nor indeed did she require him to be present. I once heard her say, when she was recommending to me the supervision of her grandson's studies, that it was her custom, in order to pass away some of those unemployed hours with which female life abounds, to amuse herself with playing at chess, or seeing the mimicry of her pantomimes; but that, whenever she engaged in either of those amusements, she constantly sent away her grandson to his studies: she appeared to me to act thus as much out of reverence for the youth as from affection. I was a good deal surprised, as I am sure you will be too, at what he told me the last time the Pontifical games[118] were exhibited. As we were coming out of the theatre together, where we had been entertained with a show of these pantomimes, "Do you know," said he, "to-day is the first time I ever saw my grandmother's freedman dance?" Such was the grandson's speech! while a set of men of a far different stamp, in order to do honour to Quadratilla (am ashamed to call it honour), were running up and down the theatre, pretending to be struck with the utmost admiration and rapture at the performances of those pantomimes, and then imitating in musical chant the mien and manner of their lady patroness. But now all the reward they have got, in return for their theatrical performances, is just a few trivial legacies, which they have the mortification to receive from an heir who was never so much as present at these shows.—I send you this account, knowing you do not dislike hearing town news, and because, too, when any occurrence has given me pleasure, I love to renew it again by relating it. And indeed this instance of affection in Quadratilla, and the honour done therein to that excellent youth her grandson, has afforded me a very sensible satisfaction; as I extremely rejoice that the house which once belonged to Cassius,[119] the founder and chief of the Cassian school, is come into the possession of one no less considerable than its former master. For my friend will fill it and become it as he ought, and its ancient dignity, lustre, and glory will again revive under Quadratus, who, I am persuaded, will prove as eminent an orator as Cassius was a lawyer. Farewell.
NUMIDIA QUADRATILLA has passed away, just shy of her eightieth birthday. She enjoyed good health right up until her last illness and was unusually strong and sturdy for a woman of her age. She left behind a sensible will, giving two-thirds of her estate to her grandson and the rest to her granddaughter. I know very little about the young lady, but her grandson is one of my closest friends. He is an extraordinary young man, and his qualities deserve the affection of a family member, even beyond blood ties. Despite his striking looks, he never faced any malicious gossip as a boy or a youth: he married at twenty-four and would have become a father if fate hadn’t dashed his hopes. He lived with his grandmother, who delighted in the pleasures of the city, yet he maintained a disciplined demeanor and was always completely respectful and obedient to her. She hosted a troupe of pantomimes and supported this group to an extent inconsistent with her gender and social rank. However, Quadratus never attended these shows, whether they were performed at the theater or in her home; in fact, she never insisted that he be present. I once heard her say, while urging me to keep an eye on her grandson's studies, that she spent some of her otherwise idle hours playing chess or watching her pantomimes; but whenever she indulged in those activities, she always sent her grandson off to his studies: it seemed to me that she did this out of respect for the young man as much as affection. I was quite surprised, as I'm sure you will be too, at what he told me the last time the Pontifical games were held. As we left the theater after watching the pantomime, he said, "Did you know, this is the first time I've ever seen my grandmother's freedman dance?" Such were the words of the grandson! Meanwhile, a group of men of a completely different caliber, trying to pay homage to Quadratilla (I cringe to call it honor), were bustling around the theater, pretending to be utterly amazed and captivated by the pantomime performances and then mimicking the appearance and manner of their patroness in song. But now their only reward, for their theatrical efforts, is a few insignificant legacies, which they must accept from an heir who wasn’t even present at those shows. I’m sharing this with you because I know you enjoy hearing the latest news from the city, and also because when something brings me joy, I like to share it. Indeed, this display of affection from Quadratilla, and the recognition it gives to her wonderful grandson, has given me considerable satisfaction; I’m truly glad that the house which once belonged to Cassius, the founder and chief of the Cassian school, has come into the possession of someone as remarkable as its former master. My friend will fill those shoes and restore the house’s former dignity, brilliance, and glory under Quadratus, who, I am confident, will become as distinguished an orator as Cassius was a lawyer. Take care.
LXXXII — To MAXIMUS
THE lingering disorder of a friend of mine gave me occasion lately to reflect that we are never so good as when oppressed with illness. Where is the sick man who is either solicited by avarice or inflamed with lust? At such a season he is neither a slave of love nor the fool of ambition; wealth he utterly disregards, and is content with ever so small a portion of it, as being upon the point of leaving even that little. It is then he recollects there are gods, and that he himself is but a man: no mortal is then the object of his envy, his admiration, or his contempt; and the tales of slander neither raise his attention nor feed his curiosity: his dreams are only of baths and fountains. These are the supreme objects of his cares and wishes, while he resolves, if he should recover, to pass the remainder of his days in ease and tranquillity, that is, to live innocently and happily. I may therefore lay down to you and myself a short rule, which the philosophers have endeavoured to inculcate at the expense of many words, and even many volumes; that "we should try and realise in health those resolutions we form in sickness." Farewell.
A friend's ongoing illness made me think about how we often show our best selves when we're unwell. When is a sick person driven by greed or consumed by desire? In such moments, they aren’t slaves to love or fools for ambition; they completely ignore wealth and are satisfied with even a tiny amount, as they feel they might leave it all behind. It's during this time they remember there are higher powers, and that they are just human: no one around them becomes the target of their envy, admiration, or disdain; gossip doesn’t capture their interest or curiosity; their thoughts are purely about baths and fountains. These become their main concerns and wishes, while they promise themselves, if they recover, to spend the rest of their days in comfort and peace, living innocently and happily. So, I can suggest to you and myself a simple rule that philosophers have tried to convey with countless words and even whole books: "we should try to live out the resolutions we make in sickness when we’re healthy." Goodbye.
LXXXIII — To SURA
THE present recess from business we are now enjoying affords you leisure to give, and me to receive, instruction. I am extremely desirous therefore to know whether you believe in the existence of ghosts, and that they have a real form, and are a sort of divinities, or only the visionary impressions of a terrified imagination. What particularly inclines me to believe in their existence is a story which I heard of Curtius Rufus. When he was in low circumstances and unknown in the world, he attended the governor of Africa into that province. One evening, as he was walking in the public portico, there appeared to him the figure of a woman, of unusual size and of beauty more than human. And as he stood there, terrified and astonished, she told him she was the tutelary power that presided over Africa, and was come to inform him of the future events of his life: that he should go back to Rome, to enjoy high honours there, and return to that province invested with the pro-consular dignity, and there should die. Every circumstance of this prediction actually came to pass. It is said farther that upon his arrival at Carthage, as he was coming out of the ship, the same figure met him upon the shore. It is certain, at least, that being seized with a fit of illness, though there were no symptoms in his case that led those about him to despair, he instantly gave up all hope of recovery; judging, apparently, of the truth of the future part of the prediction by what had already been fulfilled, and of the approaching misfortune from his former prosperity. Now the following story, which I am going to tell you just as I heard it, is it not more terrible than the former, while quite as wonderful? There was at Athens a large and roomy house, which had a bad name, so that no one could live there. In the dead of the night a noise, resembling the clashing of iron, was frequently heard, which, if you listened more attentively, sounded like the rattling of chains, distant at first, but approaching nearer by degrees: immediately afterwards a spectre appeared in the form of an old man, of extremely emaciated and squalid appearance, with a long beard and dishevelled hair, rattling the chains on his feet and hands. The distressed occupants meanwhile passed their wakeful nights under the most dreadful terrors imaginable. This, as it broke their rest, ruined their health, and brought on distempers, their terror grew upon them, and death ensued. Even in the day time, though the spirit did not appear, yet the impression remained so strong upon their imaginations that it still seemed before their eyes, and kept them in perpetual alarm, Consequently the house was at length deserted, as being deemed absolutely uninhabitable; so that it was now entirely abandoned to the ghost. However, in hopes that some tenant might be found who was ignorant of this very alarming circumstance, a bill was put up, giving notice that it was either to be let or sold. It happened that Athenodorus[120] the philosopher came to Athens at this time, and, reading the bill, enquired the price. The extraordinary cheapness raised his suspicion; nevertheless, when he heard the whole story, he was so far from being discouraged that he was more strongly inclined to hire it, and, in short, actually did so. When it grew towards evening, he ordered a couch to be prepared for him in the front part of the house, and, after calling for a light, together with his pencil and tablets, directed all his people to retire. But that his mind might not, for want of employment, be open to the vain terrors of imaginary noises and spirits, he applied himself to writing with the utmost attention. The first part of the night passed in entire silence, as usual; at length a clanking of iron and rattling of chains was heard: however, he neither lifted up his eyes nor laid down his pen, but in order to keep calm and collected tried to pass the sounds off to himself as something else. The noise increased and advanced nearer, till it seemed at the door, and at last in the chamber. He looked up, saw, and recognized the ghost exactly as it had been described to him: it stood before him, beckoning with the finger, like a person who calls another. Athenodorus in reply made a sign with his hand that it should wait a little, and threw his eyes again upon his papers; the ghost then rattled its chains over the head of the philosopher, who looked up upon this, and seeing it beckoning as before, immediately arose, and, light in hand, followed it. The ghost slowly stalked along, as if encumbered with its chains, and, turning into the area of the house, suddenly vanished. Athenodorus, being thus deserted, made a mark with some grass and leaves on the spot where the spirit left him. The next day he gave information to the magistrates, and advised them to order that spot to be dug up. This was accordingly done, and the skeleton of a man in chains was found there; for the body, having lain a considerable time in the ground, was putrefied and mouldered away from the fetters. The bones being collected together were publicly buried, and thus after the ghost was appeased by the proper ceremonies, the house was haunted no more. This story I believe upon the credit of others; what I am going to mention, I give you upon my own. I have a freedman named Marcus, who is by no means illiterate. One night, as he and his younger brother were lying together, he fancied he saw somebody upon his bed, who took out a pair of scissors, and cut off the hair from the top part of his own head, and in the morning, it appeared his hair was actually cut, and the clippings lay scattered about the floor. A short time after this, an event of a similar nature contributed to give credit to the former story. A young lad of my family was sleeping in his apartment with the rest of his companions, when two persons clad in white came in, as he says, through the windows, cut off his hair as he lay, and then returned the same way they entered. The next morning it was found that this boy had been served just as the other, and there was the hair again, spread about the room. Nothing remarkable indeed followed these events, unless perhaps that I escaped a prosecution, in which, if Domitian (during whose reign this happened) had lived some time longer, I should certainly have been involved. For after the death of that emperor, articles of impeachment against me were found in his scrutore, which had been exhibited by Carus. It may therefore be conjectured, since it is customary for persons under any public accusation to let their hair grow, this cutting off the hair of my servants was a sign I should escape the imminent danger that threatened me. Let me desire you then to give this question your mature consideration. The subject deserves your examination; as, I trust, I am not myself altogether unworthy a participation in the abundance of your superior knowledge. And though you should, as usual, balance between two opinions, yet I hope you will lean more on one side than on the other, lest, whilst I consult you in order to have my doubt settled, you should dismiss me in the same suspense and indecision that occasioned you the present application. Farewell.
The break from work we’re currently enjoying gives you some free time for teaching, and me for learning. I really want to know if you believe in the existence of ghosts, whether they have a physical form and are like some kind of divine beings, or if they’re just figments of a scared imagination. What makes me lean toward believing in ghosts is a story I heard about Curtius Rufus. When he was struggling and unknown, he accompanied the governor of Africa to that province. One evening, as he was walking in the public portico, a woman appeared to him, unusually large and possessing more than human beauty. He was terrified and amazed, and she told him she was the guardian spirit of Africa, here to reveal the future events of his life: that he would return to Rome to enjoy great honors, then come back to that province as a proconsul and die there. Every detail of this prediction came true. It is also said that when he arrived at Carthage, the same figure met him on the shore as he disembarked. It’s certain, at least, that when he fell ill, despite there being no signs that worried those around him, he immediately gave up hope for recovery, seemingly judging the truth of the future part of the prediction by what had already happened, and fearing the coming misfortune due to his past success. Now, the story that I'm about to tell you, which I’ll share just as I heard it, is even more frightening while being just as astonishing. In Athens, there was a large house known for its terrible reputation, so much so that no one could live there. In the dead of night, a noise, like clanging iron, was frequently heard, which, if you listened closely, sounded like rattling chains, first distant but then getting closer: soon after, a specter appeared as an old man, extremely thin and in ragged condition, with a long beard and unkempt hair, rattling chains around his feet and hands. The terrified occupants spent their sleepless nights plagued by the worst fears imaginable. This not only disrupted their rest but also ruined their health and led to illnesses, with fear growing until death followed. Even during the day, even if the spirit wasn’t visible, the impression was so strong in their minds that it seemed ever-present, keeping them in constant dread. Eventually, the house was abandoned, considered completely uninhabitable; it was surrendered entirely to the ghost. However, in hopes that a new renter might not know about this alarming circumstance, a notice was posted saying it was available for rent or sale. At this time, Athenodorus, the philosopher, arrived in Athens and, upon reading the notice, inquired about the price. The incredibly low price raised his suspicions; nevertheless, after hearing the full story, instead of being discouraged, he felt more compelled to rent it and eventually did. As evening approached, he instructed his staff to set up a couch for him in the front part of the house and, after asking for a light along with his writing materials, sent everyone else away. To keep his mind occupied and avoid the foolish fears of imaginary noises and spirits, he focused intently on writing. The first part of the night passed in complete silence, as usual, until finally the sound of clanking iron and rattling chains echoed. However, he didn’t look up nor put down his pen, trying to convince himself the sounds were just something else. The noise increased, getting closer, until it seemed to be at the door, and eventually in the room. He looked up, saw, and recognized the ghost just as it had been described: it stood before him, beckoning with its finger, like someone inviting another person. Athenodorus responded by gesturing for it to wait a moment and returned his gaze to his papers; the ghost then rattled its chains over his head, and when he looked up to see it beckoning again, he immediately stood, light in hand, and followed it. The ghost walked slowly, as if weighed down by its chains, and, turning into the courtyard of the house, disappeared suddenly. Athenodorus then marked the spot with grass and leaves where the spirit had left him. The next day, he informed the officials and advised them to dig up that spot. This was done, and they found the skeleton of a man in chains; the body had decayed after lying buried for a long time and had rotted away from the restraints. The bones were gathered and given a public burial, and after the appropriate rituals were performed, the ghost was finally put to rest, and the house was no longer haunted. I believe this story based on what others have said; what I’m about to share is my own experience. I have a freedman named Marcus, who isn’t uneducated. One night, as he was lying in bed with his younger brother, he thought he saw someone in his bed who pulled out scissors and cut the hair from the top of his head, and in the morning, he found his hair was actually cut, with the clippings scattered on the floor. Soon after, a similar incident occurred that lent credibility to the earlier story. A young boy in my household was sleeping in his room with his companions when he claims that two figures dressed in white entered through the windows, cut his hair while he lay there, and then exited the same way they came in. The next morning, it was discovered that this boy had the same experience as the other, with hair strewn about the room. Nothing particularly significant followed these events, except perhaps that I avoided prosecution, which, had Domitian (under whose reign these events occurred) lived a bit longer, would definitely have involved me. After that emperor died, documents accusing me were found in his archives, which had been presented by Carus. It's reasonable to assume that since it’s customary for people facing public accusations to let their hair grow, this cutting off of my servants' hair was a sign that I would escape the imminent danger that faced me. So please give this question your serious consideration. The topic deserves your attention, and I trust I’m not altogether unworthy of sharing in your wealth of knowledge. Even if you weigh two sides of the argument, I hope you will lean more toward one side than the other, lest, while I consult you to clarify my uncertainty, you leave me in the same doubt and indecision that prompted you to receive my inquiry. Farewell.
LXXXIV — To SEPTITIUS
You tell me certain persons have blamed me in your company, as being upon all occasions too lavish in the praise I give my friends. I not only acknowledge the charge, but glory in it; for can there be a nobler error than an overflowing benevolence? But still, who are these, let me ask, that are better acquainted with my friends than I am myself? Yet grant there are any such, why will they deny me the satisfaction of so pleasing a mistake? For supposing my friends not to deserve the highest encomiums I give them, yet I am happy in believing they do. Let them recommend then this malignant zeal to those (and their number is not inconsiderable) who imagine they show their judgment when they indulge their censure upon their friends. As for myself, they will never be able to persuade me I can be guilty of an excess[121] in friendship, Farewell.
You tell me that some people have criticized me in your presence for being too generous with the praise I give my friends. Not only do I admit to this, but I take pride in it; is there a greater mistake than having too much kindness? But still, who are these people that know my friends better than I do? Even if there are such individuals, why should they take away my happiness in believing that my friends deserve the highest praise? Let them direct their negative energy towards those (and there are quite a few) who think they show good judgment by criticizing their friends. As for me, they will never convince me that I can have too much of a good thing in friendship. Farewell.
LXXXV — To TACITUS
I PREDICT (and I am persuaded I shall not be deceived) that your histories will be immortal. I frankly own therefore I so much the more earnestly wish to find a place in them. If we are generally careful to have our faces taken by the best artists, ought we not to desire that our actions may be celebrated by an author of your distinguished abilities? I therefore call your attention to the following matter, which, though it cannot have escaped your notice, as it is mentioned in the public journals, still I call your attention to, that you may the more readily believe how agreeable it will be to me that this action, greatly heightened by the risk which attended it, should receive additional lustre from the testimony of a man of your powers. The senate appointed Herennius Senecio, and myself, counsel for the province of Baetica, in their impeachment of Boebius Massa. He was condemned, and the house ordered his effects to be seized into the hands of the public officer. Shortly after, Senecio, having learnt that the consuls intended to sit to hear petitions, came and said to me, "Let us go together, and petition them with the same unanimity in which we executed the office which had been enjoined us, not to suffer Massa's effects to be dissipated by those who were appointed to preserve them." I answered, "As we were counsel in this affair by order of the senate, I recommend it to your consideration whether it would be proper for us, after sentence passed, to interpose any farther." "You are at liberty," said he, "to prescribe what bounds you please to yourself, who have no particular connections with the province, except what arise from your late services to them; but then I was born there, and enjoyed the post of quaestor among them." "If such," I replied, "is your determined resolution, I am ready to accompany you, that whatever resentment may be the consequence of this affair, it may not fall singly upon yourself." We accordingly proceeded to the consuls, where Senecio said what was pertinent to the affair, and I added a few words to the same effect. Scarcely had we ended when Massa, complaining that Senecio had not acted against him with the fidelity of an advocate, but the bitterness of an enemy, desired he might be at liberty to prosecute him for treason. This occasioned general consternation. Whereupon I rose up; "Most noble consuls," said I, "I am afraid it should seem that Massa has tacitly charged me with having favoured him in this cause, since he did not think proper to join me with Senecio in the desired prosecution." This short speech was immediately received with applause, and afterwards got much talked about everywhere. The late emperor Nerva (who, though at that time in a private station, yet interested himself in every meritorious action performed in public) wrote a most impressive letter to me upon the occasion, in which he not only congratulated me, but the age which had produced an example so much in the spirit (as he was pleased to call it) of the good old days. But, whatever be the actual fact, it lies in your power to raise it into a grander and more conspicuously illustrious position, though I am far from desiring you in the least to exceed the bounds of reality. History ought to be guided by strict truth, and worthy actions require nothing more. Farewell.
I PREDICT (and I'm confident I won't be wrong) that your histories will be timeless. I honestly admit that I really want to have a place in them. If we usually make sure to have our portraits done by the best artists, shouldn't we also want our actions to be celebrated by someone with your impressive talent? So, I draw your attention to the following matter, which, although you might have already noticed since it's in the news, I want to highlight so you can understand how pleased I would be for this event—enhanced by the risks involved—to receive even more recognition from a person of your caliber. The senate appointed Herennius Senecio and me as counsel for the province of Baetica in their impeachment of Boebius Massa. He was found guilty, and the senate ordered his property to be seized by the public officer. Soon after, Senecio learned that the consuls planned to hear petitions and said to me, "Let's go and petition them with the same unity we showed while performing our duties so that Massa's property is not wasted by those responsible for safeguarding it." I replied, "Since we were appointed counsel in this matter by the senate, I think we should consider whether it would be appropriate for us to intervene further after the judgment was made." "You can set any limits you want for yourself," he said, "since you have no special ties to the province beyond your recent services to them; but I was born there and held the position of quaestor among them." "If that's your firm decision," I replied, "I'm ready to go with you so that whatever consequences arise from this situation won't fall solely on you." We then went to the consuls, where Senecio made relevant points about the case, and I added a few remarks to support him. Just as we finished, Massa claimed that Senecio hadn't acted with the loyalty of a lawyer, but with the hostility of an enemy, and asked to be allowed to prosecute him for treason. This caused a general panic. I stood up and said, "Most honorable consuls, I'm concerned it might seem that Massa has quietly accused me of having supported him in this case since he chose not to include me with Senecio in his intended prosecution." This brief statement received immediate applause and was widely discussed afterward. The former emperor Nerva (who, although at that time was a private citizen, still took an interest in every commendable public action) wrote me a powerful letter about this situation, in which he not only congratulated me but also praised the era we live in for providing such an example (as he referred to it) of the good old days. However, regardless of what actually happened, you have the power to elevate it into a more grand and prominent position, though I don’t want you to stretch the truth in any way. History should be guided by strict accuracy, and honorable actions need nothing more. Farewell.
LXXX VI — To SEPTITIUS
I HAD a good journey here, excepting only that some of my servants were upset by the excessive heat. Poor Encolpius, my reader,[122] who is so indispensable to me in my studies and amusements, was so affected with the dust that it brought on a spitting of blood: an accident which will prove no less unpleasant to me than unfortunate to himself, should he be thereby rendered unfit for the literary work in which he so greatly excels. If that should unhappily result, where shall I find one who will read my works so well, or appreciate them so thoroughly as he? Whose tones will my ears drink in as they do his? But the gods seem to favour our better hopes, as the bleeding is stopped, and the pain abated. Besides, he is extremely temperate; while no concern is wanting on my part or care on his physician's. This, together with the wholesomeness of the air, and the quiet of retirement, gives us reason to expect that the country will contribute as much to the restoration of his health as to his rest. Farewell.
I had a good trip here, except that some of my servants were bothered by the heat. Poor Encolpius, my reader, who is so essential to me in my studies and entertainment, was affected by the dust to the point of coughing up blood. This is going to be just as unpleasant for me as it is unfortunate for him, should he become unfit for the literary work he excels at. If that happens, where will I find someone who can read my writings as well or appreciate them as much as he does? Whose voice will sound as good to me as his? But the gods seem to support our better hopes, as the bleeding has stopped and the pain has eased. Plus, he is very temperate; I’m doing everything I can, and his doctor is too. This, along with the fresh air and the peace of the countryside, gives us hope that this place will help restore his health as well as provide him some rest. Goodbye.
LXXXVII — To CALVISIUS
OTHER people visit their estates in order to recruit their purses; whilst I go to mine only to return so much the poorer. I had sold my vintage to the merchants, who were extremely eager to purchase it, encouraged by the price it then bore, and what it was probable it would rise to: however they were disappointed in their expectations. Upon this occasion to have made the same general abatement to all would have been much the easiest, though not so equitable a method. Now I hold it particularly worthy of a man of honour to be governed by principles of strict equity in his domestic as well as public conduct; in little matters as in great ones; in his own concerns as well as in those of others. And if every deviation from rectitude is equally criminal,[123] every approach to it must be equally praiseworthy. So accordingly I remitted to all in general one-eighth part of the price they had agreed to give me, that none might go away without some compensation: next, I particularly considered those who had advanced the largest sums towards their purchase, and done me so much the more service, and been greater sufferers themselves. To those, therefore, whose purchase amounted to more than ten thousand sesterces,[124] I returned (over and above that which I may call the general and common eighth) a tenth part of what they had paid beyond that sum. I fear I do not express myself sufficiently clearly; I will endeavour to explain my meaning more fully: for instance, suppose a man had purchased of me to the value of fifteen thousand sesterces,[125] I remitted to him one-eighth part of that whole sum, and likewise one-tenth of five thousand.[126] Besides this, as several had deposited, in different proportions, part of the price they had agreed to pay, whilst others had advanced nothing, I thought it would not be at all fair that all these should be favoured with the same undistinguished remission. To those, therefore, who had made any payments, I returned a tenth part upon the sums so paid. By this means I made a proper acknowledgment to each, according to their respective deserts, and likewise encouraged them, not only to deal with me for the future, but to be prompt in their payments. This instance of my good-nature or my judgment (call it which you please) was a considerable expense to me. However, I found my account in it; for all the country greatly approved both of the novelty of these abatements and the manner in which I regulated them. Even those whom I did not "mete" (as they say) "by the same measure," but distinguished according to their several degrees, thought themselves obliged to me, in proportion to the probity of their principles, and went away pleased with having experienced that not with me
OTHER people visit their estates to fill their wallets; whereas I go to mine only to come back poorer. I had sold my vintage to merchants who were eager to buy, encouraged by the price it was fetching and what it was likely to rise to. However, they were let down in their expectations. In this case, making the same general deduction for everyone would have been much easier, though not fair. I believe it's important for a man of honor to be guided by strict fairness in his private as well as public actions, in small matters as well as big ones, in his own affairs as well as those of others. And if every departure from honesty is equally wrong, every step toward it must be equally commendable. Thus, I granted everyone an eighth off the price they had agreed to pay, so that no one would leave empty-handed: then I specifically considered those who had paid the most for their purchases and had been the most affected. Therefore, for those whose purchases totaled over ten thousand sesterces, I returned an additional tenth of what they had paid beyond that amount. I worry that I haven’t made myself clear enough, so I’ll clarify: for example, if a person bought from me for fifteen thousand sesterces, I gave them one-eighth off that total, and also one-tenth off the five thousand. Additionally, since some had made partial payments while others had paid nothing, I thought it wouldn’t be fair for all of them to receive the same blanket deduction. So, for those who had made any payments, I returned a tenth of the amounts they had paid. This way, I appropriately acknowledged each of them based on their contributions and also encouraged them to continue doing business with me in the future and to pay promptly. This act of generosity—or my good judgment (whichever you prefer to call it)—was quite costly for me. However, I found it worthwhile because the whole region appreciated both the novelty of these reductions and how I structured them. Even those I didn’t “measure” equally, but rather differentiated based on their contributions, felt indebted to me in accordance with their integrity and left satisfied to have experienced that with me.
"The brave and mean an equal honour find."[127]
"The brave and the mean receive the same honor." [127]
Farewell.
Goodbye.
LXXX VIII — To ROMANUS
HAVE you ever seen the source of the river Clitumnus? If you have not (and I hardly think you can have seen it yet, or you would have told me), go there as soon as possible. I saw it yesterday, and I blame myself for not having seen it sooner. At the foot of a little hill, well wooded with old cypress trees, a spring gushes out, which, breaking up into different and unequal streams, forms itself, after several windings, into a large, broad basin of water, so transparently clear that you may count the shining pebbles, and the little pieces of money thrown into it, as they lie at the bottom. From thence it is carried off not so much by the declivity of the ground as by its own weight and exuberance. A mere stream at its source, immediately, on quitting this, you find it expanded into a broad river, fit for large vessels even, allowing a free passage by each other, according as they sail with or against the stream. The current runs so strong, though the ground is level, that the large barges going down the river have no occasion to make use of their oars; while those going up find it difficult to make headway even with the assistance of oars and poles: and this alternate interchange of ease and toil, according as you turn, is exceedingly amusing when one sails up and down merely for pleasure. The banks are well covered with ash and poplar, the shape and colour of the trees being as clearly and distinctly reflected in the stream as if they were actually sunk in it. The water is cold as snow, and as white too. Near it stands an ancient and venerable temple, in which is placed the river-god Clitumnus clothed in the usual robe of state; and indeed the prophetic oracles here delivered sufficiently testify the immediate presence of that divinity. Several little chapels are scattered round, dedicated to particular gods, distinguished each by his own peculiar name and form of worship, and some of them, too, presiding over different fountains. For, besides the principal spring, which is, as it were, the parent of all the rest, there are several other lesser streams, which, taking their rise from various sources, lose themselves in the river; over which a bridge is built that separates the sacred part from that which lies open to common use. Vessels are allowed to come above this bridge, but no person is permitted to swim except below it. The Hispellates, to whom Augustus gave this place, furnish a public bath, and likewise entertain all strangers, at their own expense. Several villas, attracted by the beauty of this river, stand about on its borders. In short, every surrounding object will afford you entertainment. You may also amuse yourself with numberless inscriptions upon the pillars and walls, by different persons, celebrating the virtues of the fountain, and the divinity that presides over it. Many of them you will admire, while some will make you laugh; but I must correct myself when I say so; you are too humane, I know, to laugh upon such an occasion. Farewell.
HAVE you ever seen the source of the river Clitumnus? If you haven't (and I really doubt you have, or you would have told me), go there as soon as you can. I saw it yesterday, and I regret not seeing it sooner. At the foot of a small hill, beautifully covered with old cypress trees, a spring flows out, which splits into various streams and eventually forms a large, wide basin of water so clear that you can count the shiny pebbles and coins at the bottom. From there, it flows not so much because of the slope of the ground but due to its own weight and abundance. Starting as a simple stream at its source, it quickly expands into a wide river, suitable for large boats to pass each other easily, depending on whether they’re going with or against the current. The current runs so strong, even on level ground, that large barges going downstream don’t need to use their oars; while those going upstream find it hard to make progress even with oars and poles. This back-and-forth of ease and struggle is quite entertaining when you're just sailing for pleasure. The banks are lush with ash and poplar trees, with their shapes and colors clearly reflected in the water, as if they were submerged. The water is as cold and white as snow. Nearby stands an ancient temple, housing the river-god Clitumnus in his usual ceremonial robes, and the prophetic oracles delivered here clearly indicate the presence of that deity. Several small chapels are scattered around, each dedicated to a specific god, known by their own names and ritual practices, some overseeing different springs. Besides the main spring, which is essentially the source of all the others, there are several smaller streams from various origins that flow into the river, over which a bridge is built, separating the sacred area from the public one. Boats can cross above this bridge, but swimming is only allowed below it. The Hispellates, to whom Augustus gave this place, provide a public bath and also host all visitors at their own expense. Several villas have been built nearby, drawn by the beauty of this river. In short, everything around will entertain you. You can also enjoy countless inscriptions on the pillars and walls by different people praising the fountain's virtues and the god who watches over it. Many will impress you, while some will make you smile; but I must correct myself when I say that; I know you're too kind-hearted to laugh at such things. Farewell.
LXXXIX — To ARISTO
As you are no less acquainted with the political laws of your country (which include the customs and usages of the senate) than with the civil, I am particularly desirous to have your opinion whether I was mistaken in an affair which lately came before the house, or not. This I request, not with a view of being directed in my judgment as to what is passed (for that is now too late), but in order to know how to act in any possible future case of the kind. You will, ask, perhaps, "Why do you apply for information concerning a point on which you ought to be well instructed?" Because the tyranny of former reigns,[128] as it introduced a neglect and ignorance of all other parts of useful knowledge, so particularly of what relates to the customs of the senate; for who is there so tamely industrious as to desire to learn what he can never have an opportunity of putting in practice? Besides, it is not very easy to retain even the knowledge one has acquired where no opportunity of employing it occurs. Hence it was that Liberty, on her return[129] found us totally ignorant and inexperienced; and thus in the warmth of our eagerness to taste her sweets, we are sometimes hurried off to action, ere we are well instructed how we ought to act. But by the institution of our ancestors, it was wisely provided that the young should learn from the old, not only by precept, but by their own observation, how to behave in that sphere in which they were one day themselves to move; while these, again, in their turn, transmitted the same mode of instruction to their children. Upon this principle it was that the youth were sent early into the army, that by being taught to obey they might learn to command, and, whilst they followed others, might be trained by degrees to become leaders themselves. On the same principle, when they were candidates for any office, they were obliged to stand at the door of the senate-house, and were spectators of the public council before they became members of it. The father of each youth was his instructor upon these occasions, or if he had none, some person of years and dignity supplied the place of a father. Thus they were taught by that surest method of discipline, Example; how far the right of proposing any law to the senate extended; what privileges a senator had in delivering his opinion in the house; the power of the magistrates in that assembly, and the rights of the rest of the members; where it is proper to yield, and where to insist; when and how long to speak, and when to be silent; how to make necessary distinctions between contrary opinions, and how to improve upon a former motion: in a word, they learnt by this means every senatorial usage. As for myself, it is true indeed, I served in the army when I was a youth; but it was at a time when courage was suspected, and want of spirit rewarded; when generals were without authority, and soldiers without modesty; when there was neither discipline nor obedience, but all was riot, disorder, and confusion; in short, when it was happier to forget than to remember what one learnt. I attended likewise in my youth the senate, but a senate shrinking and speechless; where it was dangerous to utter one's opinion, and mean and pitiable to be silent. What pleasure was there in learning, or indeed what could be learnt, when the senate was convened either to do nothing whatever or to give their sanction to some consummate infamy! when they were assembled either for cruel or ridiculous purposes, and when their deliberations were never serious, though often sad! But I was not only a witness to this scene of wretchedness, as a spectator; I bore my share of it too as a senator, and both saw and suffered under it for many years; which so broke and damped my spirits that they have not even yet been able fully to recover themselves. It is within quite recently (for all time seems short in proportion to its happiness) that we could take any pleasure in knowing what relates to or in setting about the duties of our station. Upon these considerations, therefore, I may the more reasonably entreat you, in the first place, to pardon my error (if I have been guilty of one), and, in the next, to lead me out of it by your superior knowledge: for you have always been diligent to examine into the constitution of your country, both with respect to its public and private, its ancient and modern, its general and special laws. I am persuaded indeed the point upon which I am going to consult you is such an unusual one that even those whose great experience in public business must have made them, one would have naturally supposed, acquainted with everything were either doubtful or absolutely ignorant upon it. I shall be more excusable, therefore, if I happen to have been mistaken; as you will earn the higher praise if you can set me right in an affair which it is not clear has ever yet fallen within your observation. The enquiry then before the house was concerning the freedmen of Afranius Dexter, who being found murdered, it was uncertain whether he fell by his own hands, or by those of his household; and if the latter, whether they committed the fact in obedience to the commands of Afranius, or were prompted to it by their own villainy. After they had been put to the question, a certain senator (it is of no importance to mention his name, but if you are desirous to know, it was myself) was for acquitting them; another proposed that they should be banished for a limited time; and a third that they should suffer death.
As you are just as familiar with the political laws of our country (including the customs and practices of the senate) as you are with the civil, I really want your opinion on whether I was wrong about a matter that recently came before the house. I'm asking this not to guide my judgment about what has already happened (because that's too late now), but to understand how to act in any similar future situation. You might ask, "Why are you seeking information on a topic you should already know?" Because the tyranny of previous reigns__,A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ caused a neglect and ignorance of all other useful knowledge, especially regarding the customs of the senate; who is so uninspired as to want to learn what they can never put into practice? Besides, it’s not easy to retain the knowledge one has gained when there are no opportunities to use it. That’s why, when Liberty returned[129], we were completely ignorant and inexperienced; and in our excitement to enjoy her benefits, we sometimes rush into action before we learn how to act properly. But by the wisdom of our ancestors, it was established that the young should learn from the old, not just through teaching, but through observation of how to behave in the roles they would one day fill; and those older generations would pass on this mode of instruction to their children. Following this principle, young people were sent into the army early, so they could learn to obey and eventually command, training gradually to become leaders themselves. Likewise, when they were candidates for any office, they were required to stand outside the senate-house and watch the public council before joining it. Each youth had their father as their teacher in these situations, or, if they had none, an older, respected person would step in. Thus they learned, through the best kind of discipline, Example; how far the right to propose a law to the senate extended; what privileges a senator had in sharing their opinion in the house; the authority of magistrates in that assembly, and the rights of the other members; when it was right to yield, and when to insist; when and how long to speak, and when to keep quiet; how to distinguish between opposing views, and how to build on previous motions: in short, they learned all the customs of the senate. As for me, it's true I served in the army as a youth; but it was during a time when courage was doubted and lack of spirit was rewarded; when generals had no authority and soldiers lacked modesty; when there was no discipline or obedience, just chaos, disorder, and confusion; in short, when it was better to forget than to remember what was learned. I also attended the senate in my youth, but it was a senate that was timid and speechless; where voicing an opinion was dangerous, and remaining silent was seen as mean and pitiable. What joy was there in learning, or even what could be learned, when the senate met either to do nothing or to endorse some terrible act! when they gathered for cruel or ridiculous reasons, and their discussions were never serious, though often sad! But I wasn't just a spectator to this miserable scene; I also experienced it firsthand as a senator, seeing and suffering through it for many years; which has worn down my spirits so much that they haven't fully recovered even now. It's only recently (since all time feels short when it's happy) that we've been able to take pleasure in learning about or engaging in the duties of our roles. Given these points, I ask you to forgive my mistake (if I have made one) and to guide me past it with your superior knowledge: you have always been diligent in examining the constitution of your country, regarding its public and private, ancient and modern, general and specific laws. I am indeed convinced that the matter I’m about to consult you on is so uncommon that even those with great experience in public affairs would likely be either uncertain or entirely unaware of it. Therefore, I'll be more excusable if I’ve made an error; you will receive greater praise if you can correct me in a matter that hasn’t clearly come to your attention before. The matter before the house was concerning the freedmen of Afranius Dexter, who was found murdered, and it was unclear whether he took his own life or was killed by his household; and if it was the latter, whether they acted under Afranius’s orders or out of their own malicious intent. After questioning them, a particular senator (it doesn’t really matter who it was, but if you want to know, it was me) advocated for their acquittal; another proposed that they be exiled for a set period; and a third suggested that they should be executed.
These several opinions were so extremely different that it was impossible either of them could stand with the other. For what have death and banishment in common with one another? Why, no more than banishment and acquittal have together. Though an acquittal approaches rather nearer a sentence of exile than a sentence of death does: for both the former agree at least in this that they spare life, whereas the latter takes it away. In the meanwhile, those senators who were for punishing with death, and those who proposed banishment, sat together on the same side of the house: and thus by a present appearance of unanimity suspended their real disagreement. I moved, therefore, that the votes for each of the three opinions should be separately taken, and that two of them should not, under favour of a short truce between themselves, join against the third. I insisted that such of the members who were for capital punishment should divide from the others who voted for banishment; and that these two distinct parties should not be permitted to form themselves into a body, in opposition to those who declared for acquittal, when they would immediately after disunite again: for it was not material that they agreed in disliking one proposal, since they differed with respect to the other two. It seemed very extraordinary that he who moved the freedmen should be banished, and the slaves suffer death, should not be allowed to join these two in one motion, but that each question should be ordered to be put to the house separately; and yet that the votes of one who was for inflicting capital punishment upon the freedmen should be taken together with that of one who was for banishing them. For if, in the former instance, it was reasonable that the motion should be divided, because it comprehended two distinct propositions, I could not see why, in the latter case, suffrages so extremely different should be thrown into the same scale. Permit me, then, notwithstanding the point is already settled, to go over it again as if it were still undecided, and to lay before you those reasons at my ease, which I offered to the house in the midst of much interruption and clamour. Let us suppose there had been only three judges appointed to hear this cause, one of whom was of opinion that the parties in question deserved death; the other that they should only be banished; and the third that they ought to be acquitted: should the two former unite their weight to overpower the latter, or should each be separately balanced? For the first and second are no more compatible than the second and third. They ought therefore in the same manner to be counted in the senate as contrary opinions, since they were delivered as different ones. Suppose the same person had moved that they should both have been banished and put to death, could they possibly, in pursuance of this opinion, have suffered both punishments? Or could it have been looked upon as one consistent motion when it united two such different decisions? Why then should the same opinion, when delivered by distinct persons, be considered as one and entire, which would not be deemed so if it were proposed by a single man? Does not the law manifestly imply that a distinction is to be made between those who are for a capital conviction, and those who are for banishment, in the very form of words made use of when the house is ordered to divide? You who are of such an opinion, come to this side; you who are of any other, go over to the side of him whose opinion you follow. Let us examine this form, and weigh every sentence: You who are of this opinion: that is, for instance, you who are for banishment, come on this side; namely, on the side of him who moved for banishment. From whence it is clear he cannot remain on this side of those who are for death. You who are for any other: observe, the law is not content with barely saying another, but it adds any. Now can there be a doubt as to whether they who declare for a capital conviction are of any other opinion than those who propose exile! Go over to the side of him whose opinion you follow: does not the law seem, as it were, to call, compel, drive over, those who are of different opinions, to contrary sides? Does not the consul himself point out, not only by this solemn form of words, but by his hand and gesture, the place in which every man is to remain, or to which he is to go over? "But," it is objected, "if this separation is made between those who vote for inflicting death, and those who are on the side of exile, the opinion for acquitting the prisoners must necessarily prevail." But how does that affect the parties who vote? Certainly it does not become them to contend by every art, and urge every expedient, that the milder sentence may not take place. "Still," say they, "those who are for condemning the accused either capitally or to banishment should be first set in opposition to those who are for acquitting them, and afterwards weighed against each other." Thus, as, in certain public games, some particular combatant is set apart by lot and kept to engage with the conqueror; so, it seems, in the senate there is a first and second combat, and of two different opinions, the prevailing one has still a third to contend with. What? when any particular opinion is received, do not all the rest fall of course? Is it reasonable, then, that one should be thrown into the scale merely to weigh down another? To express my meaning more plainly: unless the two parties who are respectively for capital punishment and exile immediately separate upon the first division of the house it would be to no purpose afterwards to dissent from those with whom they joined before. But I am dictating instead of receiving instruction. — Tell me then whether you think these votes should have been taken separately? My motion, it is true, prevailed; nevertheless I am desirous to know whether you think I ought to have insisted upon this point, or have yielded as that member did who declared for capital punishment? For convinced, I will not say of the legality, but at least of the equity of my proposal, he receded from his opinion, and went over to the party for exile: fearing perhaps, if the votes were taken separately (which he saw would be the case), the freedmen would be acquitted: for the numbers were far greater on that side than on either of the other two, separately counted. The consequence was that those who had been influenced by his authority, when they saw themselves forsaken by his going over to the other party, gave up a motion which they found abandoned by the first proposer, and deserted, as it were, with their leader. Thus the three opinions were resolved at length into two; and of those two, one prevailed, and the other was rejected; while the third, as it was not powerful enough to conquer both the others, had only to choose to which of the two it would yield. Farewell.
These different opinions were so wildly conflicting that it seemed impossible for either to coexist with the other. What do death and banishment have in common? Not much, just like banishment and acquittal. Although acquittal is somewhat closer to exile than it is to a death sentence, since both of the former preserve life, while the latter takes it away. Meanwhile, the senators who supported the death penalty and those who advocated for banishment sat together on the same side of the room, creating an illusion of agreement that masked their real disagreement. I suggested that we should take separate votes on each of the three opinions, ensuring that two of them wouldn’t form an alliance against the third just because they shared a brief moment of truce. I insisted that members who supported the death penalty should separate from those who favored banishment, and these two groups should not be allowed to unite against those who wanted acquittal only to split again afterward. Their shared dislike for one proposal didn’t matter since they disagreed on the other two. It seemed quite strange that the person suggesting the freedmen should be banished and the slaves face death could combine these two ideas into one motion, while insisting that each issue should be voted on separately; yet, the vote of someone favoring capital punishment could be grouped with someone supporting banishment. If it made sense to separate votes for the first instance because it consisted of two distinct proposals, I couldn’t understand why such different votes should be combined in the second case. So, let me revisit this matter, even if it has already been decided, to present my reasoning calmly, as I had to contend with much disruption and noise in front of the assembly. Let’s imagine there were three judges assigned to this case: one believed the parties deserved death, another thought they should only be banished, and the third felt they should be acquitted. Should the first two join forces to overwhelm the latter, or should each argument be considered separately? After all, the first and second opinions are as incompatible as the second and third. Therefore, they should be treated as opposing views in the senate since they were expressed as distinct opinions. If someone had suggested that both should be banished and executed, could they have endured both punishments as a result of that belief? Or could it be seen as one coherent motion if it combined such differing conclusions? So why should the same opinion, when voiced by different people, be treated as one when it wouldn’t be if proposed by a single individual? Doesn’t the law clearly indicate a distinction should be made between those favoring death and those advocating for banishment, as seen in the way the motions are worded when the house is asked to divide? “You who hold this opinion, come to this side; you who hold another, go to the side of the person whose opinion you support.” Let’s analyze this wording closely: You who are for banishment—come to this side; specifically, the side of the one who proposed banishment. Hence, it's clear that they cannot align themselves with those advocating for death. “You who hold any other opinion:” notice that the law doesn’t simply say “another,” but adds “any.” Is there any doubt that those declaring for capital punishment are of a different opinion than those suggesting exile? “Go to the side of the person whose opinion you support,” doesn’t the law seem to urge, call, or even force those with differing views to opposite sides? Doesn’t the consul point out, not only with his words but also with his hand and gestures, where everyone should stand or move to? “But,” someone might argue, “if we separate those who vote for death from those in favor of exile, the proposal to acquit must inevitably win.” But how does that impact the voters? Surely, it doesn’t seem reasonable for them to resort to every trick and tactic to prevent the lighter sentence from taking effect. “Still,” they might say, “those who want to condemn the accused, either to death or exile, should first be opposed to those who want to acquit them and then weighed against each other.” Just as, in certain public contests, some specific competitor is chosen by lot to face the champion, it seems that in the senate, there’s a primary and secondary contest, and the prevailing side still has to confront a third point of view. What? When any single opinion is adopted, do not all others automatically fall away? Is it logical then, for one to be thrown into the balance merely to outweigh another? To clarify my point: unless the two groups advocating for capital punishment and exile immediately split during the first division of the house, it would serve no purpose to later disagree with those with whom they previously aligned. But I find myself dictating instead of seeking guidance. So, tell me, do you think these votes should have been taken separately? My motion did carry, but I’m curious whether you believe I should have insisted on this point or yielded, like that member who advocated for capital punishment? For convinced, I won’t say of the legality, but at least the fairness of my proposal, he withdrew and sided with those in favor of exile. Perhaps he feared that if the votes were taken separately (which he anticipated would happen), the freedmen would be acquitted since their numbers were much larger than either of the other two groups, counted separately. As a result, those who had followed his lead, seeing him abandon them for the other side, dropped the motion that had been left unclaimed by its initial proposer, just as their leader did. Thus, the three opinions ultimately condensed into two; and from those two, one prevailed while the other was rejected; meanwhile, the third, unable to overpower both, simply chose which of the two to concede to. Farewell.
XC — To PATERNUS
THE sickness lately in my family, which has carried off several of my servants, some of them, too, in the prime of their years, has been a great affliction to me. I have two consolations, however, which, though by no means equivalent to such a grief, still are consolations. One is, that as I have always readily manumitted my slaves, their death does not seem altogether immature, if they lived long enough to receive their freedom: the other, that I have allowed them to make a kind of will,[130] which I observe as religiously as if they were legally entitled to that privilege. I receive and obey their last requests and injunctions as so many authoritative commands, suffering them to dispose of their effects to whom they please; with this single restriction, that they leave them to some one in my household, for to slaves the house they are in is a kind of state and commonwealth, so to speak. But though I endeavor to acquiesce under these reflections, yet the same tenderness which led me to show them these indulgences weakens and gets the better of me. However, I would not wish on that account to become harder: though the generality of the world, I know, look upon losses of this kind in no other view than as a diminution of their property, and fancy, by cherishing such an unfeeling temper, they show a superior fortitude and philosophy. Their fortitude and philosophy I will not dispute. But humane, I am sure, they are not; for it is the very criterion of true manhood to feel those impressions of sorrow which it endeavors to resist, and to admit not to be above the want of consolation. But perhaps I have detained you too long upon this subject, though not so long as I would. There is a certain pleasure even in giving vent to one's grief; especially when we weep on the bosom of a friend who will approve, or, at least, pardon, our tears. Farewell.
THE recent illness in my family, which has claimed several of my servants, some of whom were quite young, has been a significant burden for me. I do have two small comforts, though they are by no means enough to take away the grief. One is that since I've always freed my slaves when they were ready, their deaths don't feel completely untimely, as they lived long enough to gain their freedom. The other is that I've allowed them to create a sort of will, which I follow as closely as if they had the legal right to that privilege. I accept and honor their final wishes as if they were official commands, letting them decide to whom their belongings go, with just one condition: they must leave them to someone in my household, since to slaves, the home they reside in represents a sort of community and state. But even though I try to find comfort in these thoughts, the same compassion that drove me to give them these liberties ends up weakening me. Still, I wouldn’t want to become heartless because of it; even though I know most people view losses like this simply as a reduction in their property and think that by maintaining a callous attitude, they display greater strength and wisdom. I won’t argue about their strength and wisdom, but I can say they are not compassionate; the essence of true humanity is to feel the sorrow we try to hide and to acknowledge the need for comfort. Perhaps I've taken too long on this topic, though not as long as I’d like. There’s a certain relief in expressing one’s grief, especially when we can cry with a friend who will understand or at least excuse our tears. Take care.
XCI — To MACRINUS
Is the weather with you as rude and boisterous as it is with us? All here is in tempest and inundation. The Tiber has swelled its channel, and overflowed its banks far and wide. Though the wise precaution of the emperor had guarded against this evil, by cutting several outlets to the river, it has nevertheless flooded all the fields and valleys and entirely overspread the whole face of the flat country. It seems to have gone out to meet those rivers which it used to receive and carry off in one united stream, and has driven them back to deluge those countries it could not reach itself. That most delightful of rivers, the Anio, which seems invited and detained in its course by the villas built along its banks, has almost entirely rooted up and carried away the woods which shaded its borders. It has overthrown whole mountains, and, in endeavouring to find a passage through the mass of ruins that obstructed its way, has forced down houses, and risen and spread over the desolation it has occasioned. The inhabitants of the hill countries, who are situated above the reach of this inundation, have been the melancholy spectators of its dreadful effects, having seen costly furniture, instruments of husbandry, ploughs, and oxen with their drivers, whole herds of cattle, together with the trunks of trees, and beams of the neighbouring villas, floating about in different parts. Nor indeed have these higher places themselves, to which the waters could not reach up, escaped the calamity. A continued heavy rain and tempestuous hurricane, as destructive as the river itself, poured down upon them, and has destroyed all the enclosures which divided that fertile country. It has damaged likewise, and even overturned, some of the public buildings, by the fall of which great numbers have been maimed, smothered, bruised. And thus lamentation over the fate of friends has been added to losses. I am extremely uneasy lest this extensive ruin should have spread to you: I beg therefore, if it has not, you will immediately relieve my anxiety; and indeed I desire you would inform me though it should have done so; for the difference is not great between fearing a danger, and feeling it; except that the evil one feels has some bounds, whereas one's apprehensions have none. For we can suffer no more than what actually has happened but we fear all that possibly could happen. Farewell.
Is the weather as wild and chaotic for you as it is here? Everything here is in turmoil and flooding. The Tiber River has overflowed its banks extensively. Although the emperor took wise precautions by creating several outlets for the river, it has still flooded all the fields and valleys, covering the entire flat area. It seems to have tried to reunite with those rivers it used to receive and carry away, forcing them back to inundate the areas it couldn't reach itself. The beautiful Anio River, which seems to be invited and held back by the villas along its banks, has nearly uprooted and washed away the forests that shaded its shores. It has toppled entire mountains, and in trying to find a path through the debris blocking its way, it has brought down houses and spread over the devastation it has caused. The residents of the hilly areas, above the flood's reach, have sadly watched the terrible consequences, seeing valuable furniture, farming tools, plows, and their oxen with drivers all floating around. Even those higher places, which the waters couldn't reach, haven't escaped the disaster. A continuous heavy rain and fierce hurricane, just as destructive as the river itself, have poured down on them, ruining all the enclosures that separated that fertile land. It has also damaged and even knocked down some public buildings, causing many people to be injured, buried, or bruised in the process. So, mourning for friends has added to the losses. I'm really worried that this widespread destruction has affected you too. So, if it hasn’t, please ease my worries right away; if it has, I would still like to know, because there's not much difference between fearing danger and experiencing it, except that the suffering one experiences has some limits, while our fears have none. We can endure only what has actually happened, but we fear everything that could possibly happen. Take care.
XCII — To RUFINUS
The common notion is certainly quite a false one, that a man's will is a kind of mirror in which we may clearly discern his real character, for Domitius Tullus appears a much better man since his death than he did during his lifetime. After having artfully encouraged the expectations of those who paid court to him, with a view to being his heirs, he has left his estate to his niece whom he adopted. He has given likewise several very considerable legacies among his grandchildren, and also to his great-grandson. In a word, he has shown himself a most kind relation throughout his whole will; which is so much the more to be admired as it was not expected of him. This affair has been very much talked about, and various opinions expressed: some call him false, ungrateful, and forgetful, and, while thus railing at him in this way as if they were actually disinherited kindred, betray their own dishonest designs: others, on the contrary, applaud him extremely for having disappointed the hopes of this infamous tribe of men, whom, considering the disposition of the times, it is but prudence to deceive. They add that he was not at liberty to make any other will, and that he cannot so properly be said to have bequeathed, as returned, his estate to his adopted daughter, since it was by her means it came to him. For Curtilius Mancia, whose daughter Domitius Lucanus, brother to this Tullus, married, having taken a dislike to his son-in-law, made this young lady (who was the issue of that marriage) his heiress, upon condition that Lucanus her father would emancipate her. He accordingly did so, but she being afterwards adopted by Tullus, her uncle, the design of Mancia's will was entirely frustrated. For these two brothers having never divided their patrimony, but living together as joint-tenants of one common estate, the daughter of Lucanus, notwithstanding the act of emancipation, returned back again, together with her large fortune, under the dominion of her father, by means of this fraudulent adoption. It seems indeed to have been the fate of these two brothers to be enriched by those who had the greatest aversion to them. For Domitius Afer, by whom they were adopted, left a will in their favour, which he had made eighteen years before his death; though it was plain he had since altered his opinion with regard to the family, because he was instrumental in procuring the confiscation of their father's estate. There is something extremely singular in the resentment of Afer, and the good fortune of the other two; as it was very extraordinary, on the one hand, that Domitius should endeavour to extirpate from the privileges of society a man whose children he had adopted, and, on the other, that these brothers should find a parent in the very person that ruined their father. But Tullus acted justly, after having been appointed sole heir by his brother, in prejudice to his own daughter, to make her amends by transferring to her this estate, which came to him from Afer, as well as all the rest which he had gained in partnership with his brother. His will therefore deserves the higher praise, having been dictated by nature, justice, and sense of honour; in which he has returned his obligations to his several relations, according to their respective good offices towards him, not forgetting his wife, having bequeathed to that excellent woman, who patiently endured much for his sake, several delightful villas, besides a large sum of money. And indeed she deserved so much the more at his hands, in proportion to the displeasure she incurred on her marriage with him. It was thought unworthy a person of her birth and repute, so long left a widow by her former husband, by whom she had issue, to marry, in the decline of her life, an old man, merely for his wealth, and who was so sickly and infirm that, even had he passed the best years of his youth and health with her, she might well have been heartily tired of him. He had so entirely lost the use of all his limbs that he could not move himself in bed without assistance; and the only enjoyment he had of his riches was to contemplate them. He was even (sad and disgusting to relate) reduced to the necessity of having his teeth washed and scrubbed by others: in allusion to which he used frequently to say, when he was complaining of the indignities which his infirmities obliged him to suffer, that he was every day compelled to lick his servant's fingers. Still, however, he lived on, and was willing to accept of life upon such terms. That he lived so long as he did was particularly owing, indeed, to the care of his wife, who, whatever reputation she might lose at first by her marriage, acquired great honour by her unwearied devotion as his wife. — Thus I have given you all the news of the town, where nothing is talked of but Tullus. It is expected his curiosities will shortly be sold by auction. He had such an abundant collection of very old statues that he actually filled an extensive garden with them, the very same day he purchased it; not to mention numberless other antiques, lying neglected in his lumber-room. If you have anything worth telling me in return, I hope you will not refuse the trouble of writing to me: not only as we are all of us naturally fond, you know, of news, but because example has a very beneficial influence upon our own conduct. Farewell.
The common belief that a person's will reflects their true character is definitely off base, since Domitius Tullus seems like a much better person now that he's passed away than he did while he was alive. After skillfully raising the hopes of those who flattered him, hoping to inherit, he left his estate to his adopted niece. He also gave substantial legacies to several of his grandchildren and his great-grandson. In short, he has demonstrated great kindness in his will, which is even more impressive given that it wasn't expected of him. This situation has generated a lot of discussions, with various opinions: some label him as deceitful, ungrateful, and forgetful, and while criticizing him as if they were actually disinherited relatives, they reveal their own dishonest intentions. Others, however, praise him for disappointing the expectations of this notorious group of people, as it is wise to mislead them given the circumstances of the times. They argue he had no choice but to make such a will, suggesting that he didn’t so much bequeath to his adopted daughter as he returned what rightfully belonged to her since it originally came from her. Curtilius Mancia, whose daughter married Domitius Lucanus, Tullus's brother, grew displeased with his son-in-law and made his daughter his heiress, provided that Lucanus would emancipate her. He did, but she was later adopted by Tullus, her uncle, which thwarted Mancia's will. The two brothers never divided their inheritance and lived together as joint owners of a shared estate, so despite her emancipation, Lucanus's daughter returned, along with her substantial fortune, under her father's control due to this dubious adoption. It seems it was the fate of these two brothers to benefit from those who had the most disdain for them. Domitius Afer, who adopted them, left a will in their favor made eighteen years before he died; although it was clear he changed his mind about their family since he played a role in having their father’s estate taken away. The resentment Afer had and the fortune of the other two is quite remarkable; on one hand, it is extraordinary that Domitius sought to exclude from society a man whose children he adopted, and on the other, that these brothers found a father figure in the very person who destroyed their father. However, Tullus acted fairly after being named sole heir by his brother, to the detriment of his own daughter, by compensating her with the estate inherited from Afer, as well as everything else he gained alongside his brother. His will is therefore deserving of great praise, as it was guided by nature, justice, and honor; in it, he recognized his obligations to his relatives based on their kindness towards him, not forgetting his wife, to whom he left several beautiful villas and a large sum of money. She certainly deserved even more from him given the disapproval she faced for marrying him. It was considered beneath her status and reputation, having been a widow for so long after her first husband with whom she had children, to marry an old man in her later years purely for his wealth, especially one who was sickly and frail. He had lost almost all movement and relied on help even to shift in bed; the only enjoyment he had from his wealth was to look at it. Tragically, he even required others to clean his teeth. He often complained, reflecting on the humiliations forced upon him by his condition, saying that he felt like he was forced to lick his servant's fingers every day. Nevertheless, he continued to live and accepted life on such terms. His extended life was largely due to the care of his wife, who, regardless of any initial reputational loss from their marriage, gained considerable respect for her unwavering commitment as his spouse. — So, I've shared all the town gossip, which revolves around Tullus. His curiosities are expected to be auctioned off soon. He had amassed a huge collection of very old statues, enough to fill a large garden on the very day he bought it, not to mention the countless other antiques left to gather dust in various rooms. If you have anything interesting to share in return, I hope you won't hesitate to write back: not just because we all love to hear news, but because seeing others’ examples positively influences our own actions. Take care.
XCIII — To GALLUS
THOSE works of art or nature which are usually the motives of our travels are often overlooked and neglected if they lie within our reach: whether it be that we are naturally less inquisitive concerning those things which are near us, while our curiosity is excited by remote objects; or because the easiness of gratifying a desire is always sure to damp it; or, perhaps, that we put off from time to time going and seeing what we know we have an opportunity of seeing when we please. Whatever the reason be, it is certain there are numberless curiosities in and near Rome which we have not only never seen, but even never so much as heard of: and yet had they been the produce of Greece, or Egypt, or Asia, or any other country which we admire as fertile and productive of belief in wonders, we should long since have heard of them, read of them, and enquired into them. For myself at least, I confess, I have lately been entertained with one of these curiosities, to which I was an entire stranger before. My wife's grandfather desired I would look over his estate near Ameria.[131] As I was walking over his grounds, 1 was shown a lake that lies below them, called Vadirnon,[132] about which several very extraordinary things are told. I went up to this lake. It is perfectly circular in form, like a wheel lying on the ground; there is not the least curve or projection of the shore, but all is regular, even, and just as if it had been hollowed and cut out by the hand of art. The water is of a clear sky-blue, though with somewhat of a greenish tinge; its smell is sulphurous, and its flavour has medicinal properties, and is deemed of great efficacy in all fractures of the limbs, which it is supposed to heal. Though of but moderate extent, yet the winds have a great effect upon it, throwing it into violent agitation. No vessels are suffered to sail here, as its waters are held sacred; but several floating islands swim about it, covered with reeds and rushes, and with whatever other plants the surrounding marshy ground and the edge itself of the lake produce in greater abundance. Each island has its peculiar shape and size, but the edges of all of them are worn away by their frequent collision with the shore and one another. They are all of the same height and motion; as their respective roots, which are formed like the keel of a boat, may be seen hanging not very far down in the water, and at an equal depth, on whichever side you stand. Sometimes they move in a cluster, and seem to form one entire little continent; sometimes they are dispersed into different quarters by the wind; at other times, when it is calm, they float up and down separately. You may frequently see one of the larger islands sailing along with a lesser joined to it, like a ship with its long boat; or, perhaps, seeming to strive which shall out-swim the other: then again they are all driven to the same spot, and by joining themselves to the shore, sometimes on one side and sometimes on the other, lessen or restore the size of the lake in this part or that, accordingly, till at last uniting in the centre they restore it to its usual size. The sheep which graze upon the borders of this lake frequently go upon these islands to feed, without perceiving that they have left the shore, until they are alarmed by finding themselves surrounded with water; as though they had been forcibly conveyed and placed there. Afterwards, when the wind drives them back again, they as little perceive their return as their departure. This lake empties itself into a river, which, after running a little way, sinks under ground, and, if anything is thrown in, it brings it up again where the stream emerges.—I have given you this account because I imagined it would not be less new, nor less agreeable, to you than it was to me; as I know you take the same pleasure as myself in contemplating the works of nature. Farewell.
THOSE works of art or nature that usually inspire our travels are often ignored and neglected if they're within our reach. This might be because we're less curious about things nearby while our interest is piqued by distant objects; or maybe it's because the ease of satisfying a desire tends to dampen it; or possibly we keep postponing visits to places we know we can see whenever we want. Whatever the reason, it's clear there are countless curiosities in and around Rome that we’ve never seen or even heard of. Yet if they were from Greece, Egypt, Asia, or any other place we admire for its wonders, we would have long since known about them, read about them, and inquired into them. Personally, I must admit that I was recently intrigued by one of these curiosities that I was completely unfamiliar with before. My wife's grandfather asked me to check out his estate near Ameria.[131] While walking around his property, I was shown a lake below called Vadirnon,[132] which has some very extraordinary stories associated with it. I approached this lake, which is perfectly circular, like a wheel lying on the ground; there isn’t the slightest curve or projection on the shore—everything is smooth, even, and looks as if it were shaped by human hands. The water is a clear sky-blue, tinged slightly with green; it has a sulfurous smell, and its taste has medicinal qualities thought to be very effective for healing fractures. Though it's not very large, the winds greatly impact it, causing it to become very choppy. No boats are allowed on its waters, as they are considered sacred; however, several floating islands drift across it, covered in reeds and rushes, along with other plants that grow abundantly from the marshy ground surrounding the lake. Each island has its own unique shape and size, but their edges are all worn down from frequent collisions with the shore and each other. They all sit at the same height and move similarly; their roots, shaped like a boat's keel, can be seen dangling not very deep in the water, at an equal depth regardless of where you stand. Sometimes they cluster together, appearing as one small continent; other times, the wind spreads them out in different directions, and when it’s calm, they float separately up and down. You can often see one of the larger islands moving along with a smaller one attached, like a ship with its lifeboat, or perhaps competing to see which one can outpace the other. Then, they might all be pushed to the same spot, joining the shore, sometimes on one side and sometimes on the other, thereby changing the size of the lake in different parts until they eventually come together in the center, restoring it to its usual size. The sheep that graze along the lake’s edge often wander onto these islands without realizing they’ve left the shore until they're startled by finding themselves surrounded by water—as if they had been forcibly taken there. Later, when the wind pushes them back, they return just as unaware as they were when they left. This lake drains into a river that, after flowing a short distance, disappears underground, and if anything is tossed in, it resurfaces where the stream emerges. I shared this description with you because I thought it would be just as new and enjoyable for you as it was for me, knowing you take the same joy as I do in appreciating the wonders of nature. Farewell.
XCIV — To ARRIANUS
NOTHING, in my opinion, gives a more amiable and becoming grace to our studies, as well as manners, than to temper the serious with the gay, lest the former should degenerate into melancholy, and the latter run up into levity. Upon this plan it is that I diversify my graver works with compositions of a lighter nature. I had chosen a convenient place and season for some productions of that sort to make their appearance in; and designing to accustom them early to the tables of the idle, I fixed upon the month of July, which is usually a time of vacation to the courts of justice, in order to read them to some of my friends I had collected together; and accordingly I placed a desk before each couch. But as I happened that morning to be unexpectedly called away to attend a cause, I took occasion to preface my recital with an apology. I entreated my audience not to impute it to me as any want of due regard for the business to which I had invited them that on the very day I had appointed for reading my performances to a small circle of my friends I did not refuse my services to others in their law affairs. I assured them I would observe the same rule in my writings, and should always give the preference to business, before pleasure; to serious engagements before amusing ones; and to my friends before myself. The poems I recited consisted of a variety of subjects in different metres. It is thus that we who dare not rely for much upon our abilities endeavour to avoid satiating our readers. In compliance with the earnest solicitation of my audience, I recited for two days successively; but not in the manner that several practise, by passing over the feebler passages, and making a merit of so doing: on the contrary, I omitted nothing, and freely confessed it. I read the whole, that I might correct the whole; which it is impossible those who only select particular passages can do. The latter method, indeed, may have more the appearance of modesty, and perhaps respect; but the former shows greater simplicity, as well as a more affectionate disposition towards the audience. For the belief that a man's friends have so much regard for him as not to be weary on these occasions, is a sure indication of the love he bears them. Otherwise, what good do friends do you who assemble merely for their own amusement? He who had rather find his friend's performance correct, than make it so, is to be regarded as a stranger, or one who is too lackadaisical to give himself any trouble. Your affection for me leaves me no room to doubt that you are impatient to read my book, even in its present very imperfect condition. And so you shall, but not until I have made those corrections which were the principal inducement of my recital. You are already acquainted with some parts of it; but even those, after they have been improved (or perhaps spoiled, as is sometimes the case by the delay of excessive revision) will seem quite new to you. For when a piece has undergone various changes, it gets to look new, even in those very parts which remain unaltered. Farewell.
NOTHING, in my opinion, adds more charm and grace to our studies and manners than balancing the serious with the lighthearted, so the former doesn’t turn into sadness, and the latter doesn’t spiral into silliness. That’s why I mix my more serious works with lighter compositions. I had picked a good time and place for these lighter pieces to be shared; wanting to introduce them early to those who relax, I chose July, which is usually a break for the courts of law, to read them to some friends I had gathered. So, I set up a desk in front of each couch. However, that morning, I was unexpectedly called away to handle a case, so I started my reading with an apology. I asked my audience not to think I didn’t care about the occasion simply because I took on other legal work on the very day I planned to share my writings with them. I assured them I would always prioritize work over leisure, serious matters over fun ones, and friends before myself. The poems I read covered various topics in different rhythms. This is how we, who can’t rely too much on our abilities, try to avoid overwhelming our readers. At the persistent request of my audience, I recited for two consecutive days, but not in the way some do, skipping over weaker parts and making a show of it. On the contrary, I didn’t leave anything out and openly acknowledged it. I read everything so I could correct everything; those who only choose particular passages can’t achieve that. The latter approach may seem more modest and perhaps respectful, but the former shows more simplicity and a greater affection for the audience. The belief that a friend’s audience cares enough not to get bored is a strong sign of the affection he has for them. After all, what good are friends who gather just for their own enjoyment? A person who would rather find fault in a friend's work than help improve it ought to be considered a stranger or someone too lazy to put in the effort. Your support makes me confident that you're eager to read my book, even though it's still very rough. And you will get to, but only after I make the corrections that encouraged this recital. You already know parts of it; but even those, once polished (or perhaps spoiled, as can happen with too much revising), will feel completely new to you. Because when a piece has gone through various changes, it starts to feel fresh, even in the parts that remain the same. Goodbye.
XCV — To MAXIMUS
My affection for you obliges me, not indeed to direct you (for you are far above the want of a guide), but to admonish you carefully to observe and resolutely to put in practice what you already know, that is, in other words, to know it to better purpose. Consider that you are sent to that noble province, Achaia, the real and genuine Greece, where politeness, learning, and even agriculture itself, are supposed to have taken their first rise; sent to regulate the condition of free cities; sent, that is, to a society of men who breathe the spirit of true manhood and liberty; who have maintained the rights they received from Nature, by courage, by virtue, by alliances; in a word, by civil and religious faith. Revere the gods their founders; their ancient glory, and even that very antiquity itself which, venerable in men, is sacred in states. Honour them therefore for their deeds of old renown, nay, their very legendary traditions. Grant to every one his full dignity, privileges, yes, and the indulgence of his very vanity. Remember it was from this nation we derived our laws; that she did not receive ours by conquest, but gave us hers by favour. Remember, it is Athens to which you go; it is Lacedaemon you govern; and to deprive such a people of the declining shadow, the remaining name of liberty, would be cruel, inhuman, barbarous. Physicians, you see, though in sickness there is no difference between freedom and slavery, yet treat persons of the former rank with more tenderness than those of the latter. Reflect what these cities once were; but so reflect as not to despise them for what they are now. Far be pride and asperity from my friend; nor fear, by a proper condescension, to lay yourself open to contempt. Can he who is vested with the power and bears the ensigns of authority, can he fail of meeting with respect, unless by pursuing base and sordid measures, and first breaking through that reverence he owes to himself? Ill, believe me, is power proved by insult; ill can terror command veneration, and far more effectual is affection in obtaining one's purpose than fear. For terror operates no longer than its object is present, but love produces its effects with its object at a distance: and as absence changes the former into hatred, it raises the latter into respect. And therefore you ought (and I cannot but repeat it too often), you ought to well consider the nature of your office, and to represent to yourself how great and important the task is of governing a free state. For what can be better for society than such government, what can be more precious than freedom? How ignominious then must his conduct be who turns good government into anarchy, and liberty into slavery? To these considerations let me add, that you have an established reputation to maintain: the fame you acquired by the administration of the quaestorship in Bithynia,[133] the good opinion of the emperor, the credit you obtained when you were tribune and praetor, in a word, this very government, which may be looked upon as the reward of your former services, are all so many glorious weights which are incumbent upon you to support with suitable dignity. The more strenuously therefore you ought to endeavour that it may not be said you showed greater urbanity, integrity, and ability in a province remote from Rome, than in one which lies so much nearer the capital; in the midst of a nation of slaves, than among a free people; that it may not be remarked, that it was chance, and not judgment, appointed you to this office; that your character was unknown and unexperienced, not tried and approved. For (and it is a maxim which your reading and conversation must have often suggested to you) it is a far greater disgrace losing the name one has once acquired than never to have attained it. I again beg you to be persuaded that I did not write this letter with a design of instruction, but of reminder. Though indeed, if I had, it would have only been in consequence of the great affection I bear you: a sentiment which I am in no fear of carrying beyond its just bounds: for there can be no danger of excess where one cannot love too well. Farewell.
My affection for you compels me, not to instruct you (since you're well beyond needing guidance), but to encourage you to carefully observe and actively practice what you already know; in other words, to understand it more fully. Remember that you are sent to the noble province of Achaia, the true and genuine Greece, where politeness, knowledge, and even farming are thought to have originated. You are there to manage the affairs of free cities; that is, you are part of a community of men who embody true manhood and freedom; who have preserved their natural rights through courage, virtue, and alliances; in short, through both civic and religious faith. Honor the gods who founded them; their ancient glory, and even the very antiquity itself, which is revered in people and sacred in states. Thus, honor them for their past deeds and even their legendary tales. Give everyone their full dignity, privileges, and yes, allow for a bit of their vanity. Remember, we derived our laws from this nation; they didn't conquer us for ours, but graciously shared theirs with us. Keep in mind, it is Athens you are going to; it is Lacedaemon you govern; and to strip such a people of the last remnants of their liberty would be cruel, inhuman, and barbarous. Doctors, after all, though in sickness there is no distinction between freedom and slavery, treat those of higher status with more care than those of lower status. Reflect on what these cities once were; but reflect in a way that doesn't lead you to look down on them for what they are now. Let pride and harshness be far from my friend; nor should you fear, through appropriate humility, to expose yourself to contempt. Can someone with power and authority fail to receive respect, unless they engage in base and corrupt actions, thereby betraying the reverence they owe themselves? It’s unhealthy, believe me, for power to be validated by insults; fear cannot command respect, but love is far more effective in achieving one's goals than fear. Fear only lasts as long as its subject is present, whereas love has its effects even from a distance: absence can turn fear into hatred and raise love into respect. Therefore, you must (and I cannot emphasize this enough) carefully consider the nature of your position, and realize how great and vital the task of governing a free state is. What could be better for society than such governance? What could be more valuable than freedom? How shameful, then, is the behavior of anyone who turns good governance into chaos and freedom into oppression? To these thoughts, I must add that you have a reputation to uphold: the fame you earned from your time as a quaestor in Bithynia, the good opinion of the emperor, the respect you gained as a tribune and praetor; in short, this very government, which can be seen as the reward for your past efforts, weighs heavily on you, requiring you to uphold it with dignity. Therefore, you should strive even harder to ensure it isn't said that you displayed greater civility, integrity, and skill in a province distant from Rome than in one much closer to the capital; that you behaved better among a nation of slaves than among a free people; ensuring it is not noted that it was chance rather than judgment that brought you to this post; that your character was untested and unproven, not tried and trustworthy. Because (and you must have encountered this idea often in your reading and discussions) it's far more disgraceful to lose a reputation one has once earned than to never have achieved it at all. I once again urge you to understand that I didn't write this letter to instruct you, but to remind you. Though, to be honest, if I had the intention of instructing, it would be only out of the deep affection I hold for you; a feeling I have no fear of going overboard with: for there’s no risk of excess when you can’t love too much. Farewell.
XCVI — To PAULINUS
OTHERS may think as they please; but the happiest man, in my opinion, is he who lives in the conscious anticipation of an honest and enduring name, and secure of future glory in the eyes of posterity. I confess, if I had not the reward of an immortal reputation in view, I should prefer a life of uninterrupted ease and indolent retirement to any other. There seems to be two points worthy every man's attention: endless fame, or the short duration of life. Those who are actuated by the former motive ought to exert themselves to the very utmost of their power; while such as are influenced by the latter should quietly resign themselves to repose, and not wear out a short life in perishable pursuits, as we see so many doing—and then sink at last into utter self-contempt, in the midst of a wretched and fruitless course of false industry. These are my daily reflections, which I communicate to you, in order to renounce them if you do not agree with them; as undoubtedly you will, who are for ever meditating some glorious and immortal enterprise. Farewell.
Others can think what they want; but in my opinion, the happiest person is the one who lives with the conscious hope of gaining a trustworthy and lasting name, assured of future glory in the eyes of those who come after. I admit that if I didn’t have the promise of an everlasting reputation in sight, I would choose a life of constant comfort and lazy retreat over anything else. There seem to be two important points for every person to consider: endless fame or the brevity of life. Those driven by the desire for fame should work as hard as they can; while those motivated by the shortness of life should peacefully accept rest and not waste their limited time on fleeting pursuits, as so many do—only to end up in complete self-hatred, caught in a miserable and fruitless cycle of false productivity. These are my daily thoughts, which I'm sharing with you so you can reject them if you disagree; though I’m sure you won’t, as you’re always thinking about some great and lasting endeavor. Goodbye.
XCVII — To CALVISIUS
I HAVE spent these several days past, in reading and writing, with the most pleasing tranquillity imaginable. You will ask, "How that can possibly be in the midst of Rome?" It was the time of celebrating the Circensian games; an entertainment for which I have not the least taste. They have no novelty, no variety to recommend them, nothing, in short, one would wish to see twice. It does the more surprise me therefore that so many thousand people should be possessed with the childish passion of desiring so often to see a parcel of horses gallop, and men standing upright in their chariots. If, indeed, it were the swiftness of the horses, or the skill of the men that attracted them, there might be some pretence of reason for it. But it is the dress[134] they like; it is the dress that takes their fancy. And if, in the midst of the course and contest, the different parties were to change colours, their different partisans would change sides, and instantly desert the very same men and horses whom just before they were eagerly following with their eyes, as far as they could see, and shouting out their names with all their might. Such mighty charms, such wondrous power reside in the colour of a paltry tunic! And this not only with the common crowd (more contemptible than the dress they espouse), but even with serious-thinking people. When I observe such men thus insatiably fond of so silly, so low, so uninteresting, so common an entertainment, I congratulate myself on my indifference to these pleasures: and am glad to employ the leisure of this season upon my books, which others throw away upon the most idle occupations. Farewell.
I’ve spent the last few days reading and writing with the most enjoyable peace imaginable. You might wonder, “How can that be in the middle of Rome?” It’s the time for the Circensian games, an event I have no interest in. They lack novelty and variety, and honestly, there’s nothing about them that makes me want to see it again. It surprises me that so many people are caught up in the childish excitement of wanting to watch a bunch of horses run around and men standing in their chariots. If it were about the speed of the horses or the skill of the drivers, there might be some logical reason for it. But it’s all about the costumes—they’re drawn to the outfits. If, during the race, the different teams switched colors, their fans would switch sides and instantly abandon the very same men and horses they’d just been cheering for as loud as they could. Such incredible influence lies in the color of a trivial tunic! And this is true not just for the common crowd (who are even more ridiculous than the outfits they support) but also for serious thinkers. When I see such people so endlessly captivated by such silly, low, uninteresting, and ordinary entertainment, I feel fortunate to be indifferent to these pleasures and glad to spend this free time with my books, while others waste it on the most pointless activities. Take care.
XCVIII — To ROMANUS
I AM pleased to find by your letter that you are engaged in building; for I may now defend my own conduct by your example. I am myself employed in the same sort of work; and since I have you, who shall deny I have reason on my side? Our situations too are not dissimilar; your buildings are carried on upon the sea-coast, mine are rising upon the side of the Larian lake. I have several villas upon the borders of this lake, but there are two particularly in which, as I take most delight, so they give me most employment. They are both situated like those at Baiae:[135] one of them stands upon a rock, and overlooks the lake; the other actually touches it. The first, supported as it were by the lofty buskin,[136] I call my tragic; the other, as resting upon the humble rock, my comic villa. Each has its own peculiar charm, recommending it to its possessor so much more on account of this very difference. The former commands a wider, the latter enjoys a nearer view of the lake. One, by a gentle curve, embraces a little bay; the other, being built upon a greater height, forms two. Here you have a strait walk extending itself along the banks of the lake; there, a spacious terrace that falls by a gentle descent towards it. The former does not feel the force of the waves; the latter breaks them; from that you see the fishing-vessels; from this you may fish yourself, and throw your line out of your room, and almost from your bed, as from off a boat. It is the beauties therefore these agreeable villas possess that tempt me to add to them those which are wanting.—But I need not assign a reason to you; who, undoubtedly, will think it a sufficient one that I follow your example. Farewell.
I’m glad to see from your letter that you’re involved in building because it allows me to justify my own actions by your example. I’m working on similar projects, and since you’re doing it too, who could argue that I have good reasons? Our circumstances aren’t that different; your constructions are along the coast, and mine are rising beside Lake Larian. I have several villas by this lake, but two in particular bring me the most joy and keep me busy. They’re both situated like those at Baiae:[135] one is perched on a rock overlooking the lake, while the other is right at the water’s edge. I call the first my tragic villa, as it’s elevated like a lofty stage, and the second my comic villa since it rests humbly on the rock. Each has its unique charm, making it appealing to me for this very difference. The first offers a broader view, while the second provides a closer look at the lake. One villa gently curves to embrace a small bay, while the other, being higher up, creates two bays. Here, you have a straight path along the lake's edge; there, a spacious terrace slopes down toward it. The first villa is shielded from the waves, while the second lets them break against it; from one, you can watch the fishing boats, and from the other, you can fish right from your room—or even from your bed—like you’re in a boat. It’s the beauty of these delightful villas that inspires me to enhance them further. But I don’t need to explain myself to you; you’ll surely find it reason enough that I’m following your example. Take care.
XCIX — To GEMINUS
YOUR letter was particularly acceptable to me, as it mentioned your desire that I would send you something of mine, addressed to you, to insert in your works. I shall find a more appropriate occasion of complying with your request than that which you propose, the subject you point out to me being attended with some objections; and when you reconsider it, you will think so.—As I did not imagine there were any booksellers at Lugdunum,[137] I am so much the more pleased to learn that my works are sold there. I rejoice to find they maintain the character abroad which they raised at home, and I begin to flatter myself they have some merit, since persons of such distant countries are agreed in their opinion with regard to them. Farewell.
YOUR letter was especially welcome to me, as it expressed your wish for me to send you something of mine, addressed to you, to include in your works. I will find a better opportunity to fulfill your request than the one you suggested, as the topic you mentioned has some objections; and once you think it over, you will realize that too. Since I didn’t expect there were any booksellers in Lugdunum, I’m even happier to learn that my works are being sold there. I’m glad to see they maintain the reputation abroad that they built at home, and I’m starting to think they have some value since people from such distant places share the same opinion about them. Goodbye.
C — To JUNIOR
A CERTAIN friend of mine lately chastised his son, in my presence, for being somewhat too expensive in the matter of dogs and horses. "And pray," I asked him, when the youth had left us, "did you never commit a fault yourself which deserved your father's correction? Did you never? I repeat. Nay, are you not sometimes even now guilty of errors which your son, were he in your place, might with equal gravity reprove? Are not all mankind subject to indiscretions? And have we not each of us our particular follies in which we fondly indulge ourselves?"[138]
A friend of mine recently scolded his son, in my presence, for being a bit too extravagant with dogs and horses. "Tell me," I asked him after the kid left, "did you never make a mistake yourself that your father corrected you for? Did you really never? I’m asking again. Aren't you sometimes even now guilty of mistakes that your son, if he were in your shoes, could just as seriously criticize you for? Isn’t everyone prone to slip-ups? And don’t we all have our own particular quirks that we enjoy indulging in?"[138]
The great affection I have for you induced me to set this instance of unreasonable severity before you—a caution not to treat your son with too much harshness and severity. Consider, he is but a boy, and that there was a time when you were so too. In exerting, therefore, the authority of a father, remember always that you are a man, and the parent of a man. Farewell.
The deep love I have for you led me to share this example of unreasonable harshness—a reminder not to be too strict with your son. Remember, he’s just a boy, and there was a time when you were too. So, as you exercise your authority as a father, always keep in mind that you are a man and the parent of a man. Goodbye.
CI — To QUADRATUS
THE pleasure and attention with which you read the vindication I published of Helvidius,[139] has greatly raised your curiosity, it seems, to be informed of those particulars relating to that affair, which are not mentioned in the defence; as you were too young to be present yourself at that transaction. When Domitian was assassinated, a glorious opportunity, I thought, offered itself to me of pursuing the guilty, vindicating the injured, and advancing my own reputation. But amidst an infinite variety of the blackest crimes, none appeared to me more atrocious than that a senator, of praetorian dignity, and invested with the sacred character of a judge, should, even in the very senate itself, lay violent hands upon a member[140] of that body, one of consular rank, and who then stood arraigned before him. Besides this general consideration, I also happened to be on terms of particular intimacy with Helvidius, as far as this was possible with one who, through fear of the times, endeavoured to veil the lustre of his fame, and his virtues, in obscurity and retirement. Arria likewise, and her daughter Fannia, who was mother-in-law to Helvidius, were in the number of my friends. But it was not so much private attachments as the honour of the public, a just indignation at the action, and the danger of the example if it should pass unpunished, that animated me upon the occasion. At the first restoration of liberty every man singled out his own particular enemy (though it must be confessed, those only of a lower rank), and, in the midst of much clamour and confusion, no sooner brought the charge than procured the condemnation. But for myself, I thought it would be more reasonable and more effectual, not to take advantage of the general resentment of the public, but to crush this criminal with the single weight of his own enormous guilt. When therefore the first heat of public indignation began to cool, and declining passion gave way to justice, though I was at that time under great affliction for the loss of my wife,[142] I sent to Anteia, the widow of Helvidius, and desired her to come to me, as my late misfortune prevented me from appearing in public. When she arrived, I said to her, "I am resolved not to suffer the injuries your husband has received, to pass unrevenged; let Arria and Fannia" (who were just returned from exile) "know this; and consider together whether you would care to join with me in the prosecution. Not that I want an associate, but I am not so jealous of my own glory as to refuse to share it with you in this affair." She accordingly carried this message; and they all agreed to the proposal without the least hesitation. It happened very opportunely that the senate was to meet within three days. It was a general rule with me to consult, in all my affairs, with Corellius, a person of the greatest far-sightedness and wisdom this age has produced. However, in the present case, I relied entirely upon my own discretion, being apprehensive he would not approve of my design, as he was very cautious and deliberate. But though I did not previously take counsel with him (experience having taught me, never to do so with a person concerning a question we have already determined, where he has a right to expect that one shall be decided by his judgment), yet I could not forbear acquainting him with my resolution at the time I intended to carry it into execution. The senate being assembled, I came into the house, and begged I might have leave to make a motion; which I did in few words, and with general assent. When I began to touch upon the charge, and point out the person I intended to accuse (though as yet without mentioning him by name), I was attacked on all sides. "Let us know," exclaims one, "who is the subject of this informal motion?" "Who is it," (asked another) "that is thus accused, without acquainting the house with his name, and his crime?" "Surely," (added a third) "we who have survived the late dangerous times may expect now, at least, to remain in security." I heard all this with perfect calmness, and without being in the least alarmed. Such is the effect of conscious integrity; and so much difference is there with respect to inspiring confidence or fear, whether the world had only rather one should forbear a certain act, or absolutely condemn it. It would be too tedious to relate all that was advanced, by different parties, upon this occasion. At length the consul said, "You will be at liberty, Secundus, to propose what you think proper when your turn comes to give your opinion upon the order of the day."[143] I replied, "You must allow me a liberty which you never yet refused to any;" and so sat down: when immediately the house went upon another business. In the meanwhile, one of my consular friends took me aside, and, with great earnestness telling me he thought I had carried on this affair with more boldness than prudence, used every method of reproof and persuasion to prevail with me to desist; adding at the same time that I should certainly, if I persevered, render myself obnoxious to some future prince. "Be it so," I returned, "should he prove a bad one." Scarcely had he left me when a second came up: "Whatever," said he, "are you attempting? Why ever will you ruin yourself? Do you consider the risks you expose yourself to? Why will you presume too much on the present situation of public affairs, when it is so uncertain what turn they may hereafter take? You are attacking a man who is actually at the head of the treasury, and will shortly be consul. Besides, recollect what credit he has, and with what powerful friendships he is supported?" Upon which he named a certain person, who (not without several strong and suspicious rumours) was then at the head of a powerful army in the east. I replied,
THE pleasure and interest with which you read the defense I published of Helvidius, [139] has really piqued your curiosity to learn more about the details of that event, which weren't covered in the defense, especially since you were too young to have witnessed it yourself. When Domitian was assassinated, I thought I had a fantastic opportunity to pursue justice for the wronged, defend the innocent, and also enhance my own reputation. However, among the countless atrocious crimes, none struck me as more shocking than when a senator, with the respect of a praetorian and in the sacred role of a judge, dared to violently attack a fellow senator of consular rank, who was standing trial before him in the Senate. Beyond this general outrage, I also had a close relationship with Helvidius, as much as one could have with someone, who out of fear of the times, tried to hide the brilliance of his reputation and virtues in obscurity and seclusion. Arria and her daughter Fannia, who was Helvidius's mother-in-law, were also among my friends. Still, it wasn't just private ties; it was the honor of the public, a righteous anger at this action, and the risk that such an example could go unpunished that motivated me. When liberty was first restored, everyone targeted their own enemies (though only those of lower status), and amid much uproar and chaos, they quickly brought charges and secured convictions. But for me, I thought it would be more sensible and effective not to exploit the public's anger but to bring this offender down purely based on his overwhelming guilt. When the initial surge of public outrage began to fade and a cooler sense of justice took over, I was grieving the loss of my wife, [142] but I still sent for Anteia, the widow of Helvidius, asking her to meet with me since my recent misfortune kept me from appearing publicly. When she arrived, I told her, "I'm determined not to let your husband's mistreatment go unpunished; please inform Arria and Fannia" (who had just returned from exile). "Think about whether you would like to join me in this prosecution. I don't need a partner, but I'm not so protective of my own honor that I wouldn't want to share it with you in this matter." She conveyed my message, and they all agreed to the proposal without second thoughts. Fortunately, the Senate was set to meet in three days. Generally, I consulted with Corellius, a person with incredible insight and wisdom for our time, in all my matters. However, in this case, I fully relied on my own judgment, fearing he wouldn’t support my plan, as he was known to be very cautious and deliberate. Even though I didn’t seek his advice in advance (experience had taught me not to discuss decisions with someone I had already resolved with), I felt compelled to inform him of my intention right before I was ready to act. When the Senate gathered, I entered the chamber and requested permission to make a motion, which I did briefly and with unanimous agreement. As I began to outline the charge and indicate who I intended to accuse (still not naming him), I was met with uproar. "Who is the subject of this informal motion?" one exclaimed. "Who is being accused without the house knowing his name and his crime?" another questioned. "Surely," added a third, "we who survived the recent dangerous times should at least expect some security now." I listened to all this calmly, without the slightest alarm. Such is the effect of being aware of one’s integrity; it makes a significant difference whether the world merely wishes one to abstain from a certain act or completely condemn it. It would be too lengthy to recount all the objections raised by various parties on this occasion. Eventually, the consul said, "You will have the opportunity, Secundus, to propose whatever you think appropriate when it is your turn to share your thoughts on the order of the day." [143] I responded, "You must grant me a privilege you have never denied to anyone else," and I took my seat, at which point the assembly moved on to another topic. In the meantime, one of my consular friends pulled me aside and, earnestly expressing that he thought I was proceeding with more boldness than caution, tried every possible method of persuasion to convince me to back down. He also warned me that if I persisted, I would surely attract the ire of some future ruler. "So be it," I replied, "if he turns out to be a bad one." Hardly had he left when another approached me: "What are you thinking? Why risk your own ruin? Do you understand the dangers you face? Why do you presume so much on the current state of public affairs when it’s so uncertain how things could unfold in the future? You're confronting a man who is currently in charge of the treasury and will soon be consul. Plus, remember his reputation and the powerful connections he has." He then mentioned a certain individual who (not without several concerning and dubious reports) was then leading a significant army in the east. I responded,
"'All I've foreseen, and oft in thought revolv'd;[144] and am willing, if fate shall so decree, to suffer in an honest cause, provided I can draw vengeance down upon a most infamous one." The time for the members to give their opinions was now arrived. Domitius Apollinaris, the consul elect, spoke first; after him Fabricius Vejento, then Fabius Maximinus, Vettius Proculus next (who married my wife's mother, and who was the colleague of Publicius Certus, the person on whom the debate turned), and last of all Ammius Flaccus. They all defended Certus, as if I had named him (though I had not yet so much as once mentioned him), and entered upon his justification as if I had exhibited a specific charge. It is not necessary to repeat in this place what they respectively said, having given it all at length in their words in the speech above-mentioned. Avidius Quietus and Cornutus Tertullus answered them. The former observed, "that it was extremely unjust not to hear the complaints of those who thought themselves injured, and therefore that Arria and Fannia ought not to be denied the privilege of laying their grievances before the house; and that the point for the consideration of the senate was not the rank of the person, but the merit of the cause."
"'All I've foreseen and often considered; and I'm ready, if fate allows, to suffer for a just cause, as long as I can bring down vengeance on a truly infamous one." The time for the members to express their opinions had come. Domitius Apollinaris, the consul-elect, spoke first; then Fabricius Vejento, followed by Fabius Maximinus, and next was Vettius Proculus (who was married to my wife's mother, and who was the colleague of Publicius Certus, the person at the center of the debate), and finally, Ammius Flaccus. They all defended Certus, as if I had named him (even though I hadn't mentioned him even once), and launched into justifying him as if I had presented a specific accusation. It's not necessary to repeat what each of them said here, as I have already detailed their words in the aforementioned speech. Avidius Quietus and Cornutus Tertullus responded to them. The former pointed out, "that it was extremely unfair not to hear the complaints of those who felt wronged, and therefore Arria and Fannia should not be denied the chance to present their grievances before the house; and that the issue for the senate to consider was not the individual's status, but the merit of the case."
Then Cornutus rose up and acquainted the house, "that, as he was appointed guardian to the daughter of Helvidius by the consuls, upon the petition of her mother and her father-in-law, he felt himself compelled to fulfil the duty of his trust. In the execution of which, however, he would endeavour to set some bounds to his indignation by following that great example of moderation which those excellent women[145] had set, who contented themselves with barely informing the senate of the cruelties which Certus committed in order to carry on his infamous adulation; and therefore," he said, "he would move only that, if a punishment due to a crime so notoriously known should be remitted, Certus might at least be branded with some mark of the displeasure of that august assembly." Satrius Rufus spoke next, and, meaning to steer a middle course, expressed himself with considerable ambiguity. "I am of opinion," said he, "that great injustice will be done to Certus if he is not acquitted (for I do not scruple to mention his name, since the friends of Arria and Fannia, as well as his own, have done so too), nor indeed have we any occasion for anxiety upon this account. We who think well of the man shall judge him with the same impartiality as the rest; but if he is innocent, as I hope he is, and shall be glad to find, I think this house may very justly deny the present motion till some charge has been proved against him." Thus, according to the respective order in which they were called upon, they delivered their several opinions. When it came to my turn, I rose up, and, using the same introduction to my speech as I have published in the defence, I replied to them severally. It is surprising with what attention, what clamorous applause I was heard, even by those who just before were loudest against me: such a wonderful change was wrought either by the importance of the affair, the successful progress of the speech, or the resolution of the advocate. After I had finished, Vejento attempted to reply; but the general clamour raised against him not permitting him to go on, "I entreat you, conscript fathers,"[146] said he, "not to oblige me to implore the assistance of the tribunes."[147] Immediately the tribune Murena cried out, "You have my permission, most illustrious Vejento, to go on." But still the clamour was renewed. In the interval, the consul ordered the house to divide, and having counted the voices, dismissed the senate, leaving Vejento in the midst, still attempting to speak. He made great complaints of this affront (as he called it), applying the following lines of Homer to himself:
Then Cornutus stood up and told the assembly, "As I’ve been appointed guardian to Helvidius's daughter by the consuls, based on the request of her mother and father-in-law, I feel obligated to fulfill my responsibilities. In doing so, I will try to limit my anger by following the great example of moderation set by those outstanding women—A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0—who were satisfied with merely informing the senate about the atrocities committed by Certus in order to further his disgusting flattery. Therefore," he said, "I will only propose that, if a punishment for such a well-known crime is lifted, Certus at least should bear some mark of disapproval from this distinguished assembly." Satrius Rufus spoke next and tried to take a balanced approach, speaking somewhat ambiguously. "I believe," he said, "that it would be a great injustice to Certus if he is not acquitted (I have no hesitation mentioning his name, since the friends of Arria and Fannia, as well as his own supporters, have done so), and we really need not worry about this. Those of us who view him favorably will judge him as fairly as everyone else; but if he is innocent, as I hope he is and would love to discover, then I think this assembly should properly deny this motion until some evidence against him is presented." Thus, following the order in which they were called, they shared their opinions. When it was my turn, I stood up and, using the same introduction as in my published defense, I responded to each of them. It’s surprising how attentively and with what loud applause I was heard, even by those who had just been the most vocal against me; such a remarkable shift was caused either by the significance of the matter, the effective delivery of the speech, or the determination of the advocate. After I finished, Vejento tried to respond, but the overwhelming noise against him prevented him from continuing. "I beg you, esteemed fathers," A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1 said, "not to make me ask the tribunes for help." A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_2 Immediately, the tribune Murena shouted, "You have my permission, most distinguished Vejento, to proceed." But still the uproar continued. In the meantime, the consul ordered the assembly to divide, and after counting the votes, he dismissed the senate, leaving Vejento in the middle, still trying to speak. He loudly complained about this slight (as he called it), applying the following lines of Homer to himself:
"Great perils, father, wait the unequal fight;
Those younger champions will thy strength o'ercome."[148]
"Big dangers, dad, are ahead in this unfair battle; those younger fighters will overpower you."[148]
There was hardly a man in the senate that did not embrace and kiss me, and all strove who should applaud me most, for having, at the cost of private enmities, revived a custom so long disused, of freely consulting the senate upon affairs that concern the honour of the public; in a word, for having wiped off that reproach which was thrown upon it by other orders in the state, "that the senators mutually favoured the members of their own body, while they were very severe in animadverting upon the rest of their fellow-citizens." All this was transacted in the absence of Certus; who kept out of the way either because he suspected something of this nature was intended to be moved, or (as was alleged in his excuse) that he was really unwell. Cæsar, however, did not refer the examination of this matter to the senate. But I succeeded, nevertheless, in my aim, another person being appointed to succeed Certus in the consulship, while the election of his colleague to that office was confirmed. And thus, the wish with which I concluded my speech, was actually accomplished: "May he be obliged," said I, "to renounce, under a virtuous prince,[149] that reward he received from an infamous one!"[150] Some time after I recollected, as well as I could, the speech I had made upon this occasion; to which I made several additions. It happened (though indeed it had the appearance of being something more than casual) that a few days after I had published this piece, Certus was taken ill and died. I was told that his imagination was continually haunted with this affair, and kept picturing me ever before his eyes, as a man pursuing him with a drawn sword. Whether there was any truth in this rumour, I will not venture to assert; but, for the sake of example, however, I could wish it might gain credit. And now I have sent you a letter which (considering it is a letter) is as long as the defence you say you have read: but you must thank yourself for not being content with such information as that piece could afford you. Farewell.
There was hardly a guy in the senate who didn’t greet and hug me, and everyone tried to applaud me the loudest for reviving a long-neglected tradition of consulting the senate about matters affecting the public's honor; in short, for removing the stigma that other groups in the state had cast on them, saying that senators looked out for their own while being tough on the rest of their fellow citizens. All of this happened while Certus was absent; he stayed away either because he suspected something like this was about to happen, or as he claimed, he was genuinely unwell. However, Cæsar didn’t bring this issue to the senate. Still, I achieved my goal, as someone else was appointed to replace Certus in the consulship, and the election of his colleague was confirmed. And so, what I wished for at the end of my speech actually happened: “May he be forced,” I said, “to give up, under a virtuous leader, that reward he received from a dishonorable one!” Some time later, I remembered, as best as I could, the speech I’d made on this occasion and added a few more points. It was strange (though it seemed more than a coincidence) that a few days after I published this piece, Certus fell ill and died. I was told that he was constantly tormented by this affair, imagining me chasing him with a drawn sword. Whether there’s any truth to this rumor, I can’t say for sure, but for the sake of example, I wish it could be believed. And now I've sent you a letter which, considering it's a letter, is as long as the defense you said you read: but you can blame yourself for not being satisfied with the information that piece provided. Take care.
CII — To GENITOR
I HAVE received your letter, in which you complain of having been highly disgusted lately at a very splendid entertainment, by a set of buffoons, mummers, and wanton prostitutes, who were dancing about round the tables.[151] But let me advise you to smooth your knitted brow somewhat. I confess, indeed, I admit nothing of this kind at my own house; however, I bear with it in others. "And why, then," you will be ready to ask, "not have them yourself?"
I got your letter, where you express your annoyance at a really extravagant party, thanks to a group of clowns, performers, and provocative dancers who were prancing around the tables.[151] But let me suggest you ease that frown a bit. I admit, I don’t allow that sort of thing at my own place; still, I can tolerate it elsewhere. "And why not have it yourself?" you might ask.
The truth is, because the gestures of the wanton, the pleasantries of the buffoon, or the extravagancies of the mummer, give me no pleasure, as they give me no surprise. It is my particular taste, you see, not my judgment, that I plead against them. And indeed, what numbers are there who think the entertainments with which you and I are most delighted no better than impertinent follies! How many are there who, as soon as a reader, a lyrist, or a comedian is introduced, either take their leave of the company or, if they remain, show as much dislike to this sort of thing as you did to those monsters, as you call them! Let us bear therefore, my friend, with others in their amusements, that they, in return, may show indulgence to ours. Farewell.
The truth is, I don't enjoy the antics of the reckless, the jokes of the fool, or the over-the-top performances of the entertainer; they don't surprise or amuse me. It's just my personal taste, not my judgment, that I'm arguing against them. In fact, how many people do you know who see the things we love as nothing more than silly nonsense? How many leave as soon as a reader, poet, or comedian is introduced, or, if they stay, show as much disdain for it as you did for those "monsters," as you called them? So, let's try to be patient with others in their entertainment choices, so they can be more accepting of ours in return. Goodbye.
CIII — To SABINIANUS
YOUR freedman, whom you lately mentioned to me with displeasure, has been with me, and threw himself at my feet with as much submission as he could have fallen at yours. He earnestly requested me with many tears, and even with all the eloquence of silent sorrow, to intercede for him; in short, he convinced me by his whole behaviour that he sincerely repents of his fault. I am persuaded he is thoroughly reformed, because he seems deeply sensible of his guilt. I know you are angry with him, and I know, too, it is not without reason; but clemency can never exert itself more laudably than when there is the most cause for resentment. You once had an affection for this man, and, I hope, will have again; meanwhile, let me only prevail with you to pardon him. If he should incur your displeasure hereafter, you will have so much the stronger plea in excuse for your anger as you show yourself more merciful to him now. Concede something to his youth, to his tears, and to your own natural mildness of temper: do not make him uneasy any longer, and I will add too, do not make yourself so; for a man of your kindness of heart cannot be angry without feeling great uneasiness. I am afraid, were I to join my entreaties with his, I should seem rather to compel than request you to forgive him. Yet I will not scruple even to write mine with his; and in so much the stronger terms as I have very sharply and severely reproved him, positively threatening never to interpose again in his behalf. But though it was proper to say this to him, in order to make him more fearful of offending, I do not say so to you. I may perhaps, again have occasion to entreat you upon this account, and again obtain your forgiveness; supposing, I mean, his fault should be such as may become me to intercede for, and you to pardon. Farewell.
YOUR freedman, whom you recently mentioned to me with displeasure, has been with me and threw himself at my feet with as much submission as he could have shown to you. He earnestly begged me, with many tears and the eloquence of silent sorrow, to intercede for him; in short, he convinced me through his whole demeanor that he sincerely regrets his mistake. I am convinced he is truly changed because he seems deeply aware of his guilt. I know you are angry with him, and I understand that it’s justified; but mercy can never be more commendable than when there is the most reason for anger. You once cared for this man, and I hope you will again; meanwhile, let me just persuade you to forgive him. If he upsets you again in the future, you'll have a stronger reason to be angry if you show him mercy now. Consider his youth, his tears, and your own natural kindness: don’t make him suffer any longer, and I’ll add, don’t make yourself feel bad either; a person as kind-hearted as you can’t stay angry without feeling great distress. I'm worried that if I add my pleas to his, it might seem more like I'm forcing you rather than asking you to forgive him. Still, I won’t hesitate to write this on his behalf, and I’ll do so in stronger terms since I’ve given him a stern and harsh reprimand, even threatening to never intervene for him again. But while it was necessary to say this to him to make him more afraid of misbehaving, I don’t intend to say that to you. I may perhaps need to ask you for a favor again in the future, hoping his mistake will be one that I should intercede for, and you would be willing to forgive. Farewell.
CIV — To MAXIMUS
IT has frequently happened, as I have been pleading before the Court of the Hundred, that these venerable judges, after having preserved for a long period the gravity and solemnity suitable to their character, have suddenly, as though urged by irresistible impulse, risen up to a man and applauded me. I have often likewise gained as much glory in the senate as my utmost wishes could desire: but I never felt a more sensible pleasure than by an account which I lately received from Cornelius Tacitus. He informed me that, at the last Circensian games, he sat next to a Roman knight, who, after conversation had passed between them upon various points of learning, asked him, "Are you an Italian, or a provincial?" Tacitus replied, "Your acquaintance with literature must surely have informed you who I am." "Pray, then, is it Tacitus or Pliny I am talking with?" I cannot express how highly I am pleased to find that our names are not so much the proper appellatives of men as a kind of distinction for learning herself; and that eloquence renders us known to those who would otherwise be ignorant of us. An accident of the same kind happened to me a few days ago. Fabius Rufinus, a person of distinguished merit, was placed next to me at table; and below him a countryman of his, who had just then come to Rome for the first time. Rufinus, calling his friend's attention to me, said to him, "You see this man?" and entered into a conversation upon the subject of my pursuits: to whom the other immediately replied, "This must undoubtedly be Pliny." To confess the truth, I look upon these instances as a very considerable recompense of my labours. If Demosthenes had reason to be pleased with the old woman of Athens crying out, "This is Demosthenes!" may not I, then, be allowed to congratulate myself upon the celebrity my name has acquired? Yes, my friend, I will rejoice in it, and without scruple admit that I do. As I only mention the judgment of others, not my own, I am not afraid of incurring the censure of vanity; especially from you, who, whilst envying no man's reputation, are particularly zealous for mine. Farewell.
It often happens, while I'm speaking in front of the Court of the Hundred, that these respected judges, after maintaining their serious and formal demeanor for a long time, suddenly stand up and applaud me as if compelled by some force. I've often gained as much recognition in the senate as I've ever wanted, but I've never felt a greater pleasure than from a message I recently received from Cornelius Tacitus. He told me that at the last Circensian games, he sat next to a Roman knight who, after discussing various topics, asked him, "Are you an Italian or a provincial?" Tacitus replied, "Your familiarity with literature must surely tell you who I am." The knight then asked, "So, am I chatting with Tacitus or Pliny?" I can't express how thrilled I am to discover that our names are more than just labels for people; they're a mark of learning itself, and that eloquence makes us known to those who might otherwise overlook us. A similar thing happened to me a few days ago. Fabius Rufinus, a person of notable merit, was sitting next to me at the table, with a fellow countryman of his who had just come to Rome for the first time. Rufinus pointed me out to his friend, saying, "Do you see this man?" and started discussing my work. The other guy immediately said, "This must be Pliny." To be honest, I see these moments as a significant reward for my efforts. If Demosthenes had reason to be pleased when an old woman in Athens shouted, "This is Demosthenes!" shouldn't I also congratulate myself on the fame my name has achieved? Yes, my friend, I will take joy in it and without hesitation admit that I do. Since I’m only talking about how others perceive me, not my own opinion, I’m not worried about being called vain, especially from you, who, while not envying anyone's fame, are particularly supportive of mine. Farewell.
CV — To SABINIANUS
I GREATLY approve of your having, in compliance with my letter,[152] received again into your favour and family a discarded freedman, who you once admitted into a share of your affection. This will afford you, I doubt not, great satisfaction. It certainly has me, both as a proof that your passion can be controlled, and as an instance of your paying so much regard to me, as either to yield to my authority or to comply with my request. Let me, therefore, at once both praise and thank you. At the same time I must advise you to be disposed for the future to pardon the faults of your people, though there should be none to intercede in their behalf. Farewell.
I really appreciate that you’ve welcomed back a former freedman into your life and family again, just as I suggested in my letter. I'm sure this brings you great joy. It certainly makes me happy, both as a sign that you can manage your feelings and as a demonstration of how much you value my opinion, whether by following my advice or honoring my request. So, let me both praise and thank you right now. At the same time, I want to encourage you to be more forgiving of the mistakes of your people in the future, even if no one is there to speak up for them. Take care.
CVI — To LUPERCUS
I SAID once (and, I think, not inaptly) of a certain orator of the present age, whose compositions are extremely regular and correct, but deficient in grandeur and embellishment, "His only fault is that he has none." Whereas he, who is possessed of the true spirit of oratory, should be bold and elevated, and sometimes even flame out, be hurried away, and frequently tread upon the brink of a precipice: for danger is generally near whatever is towering and exalted. The plain, it is true, affords a safer, but for that reason a more humble and inglorious, path: they who run are more likely to stumble than they who creep; but the latter gain no honour by not slipping, while the former even fall with glory. It is with eloquence as with some other arts; she is never more pleasing than when she risks most. Have you not observed what acclamations our rope-dancers excite at the instant of imminent danger? Whatever is most entirely unexpected, or as the Greeks more strongly express it, whatever is most perilous, most excites our admiration. The pilot's skill is by no means equally proved in a calm as in a storm: in the former case he tamely enters the port, unnoticed and unapplauded; but when the cordage cracks, the mast bends, and the rudder groans, then it is that he shines out in all his glory, and is hailed as little inferior to a sea-god.
I once said (and I think it was accurate) about a certain modern speaker whose speeches are very regular and correct, but lack greatness and flair, "His only flaw is that he has none." A true orator should be bold and elevated, sometimes even fiery, getting swept away, and often teetering on the edge of danger: because where there is height and greatness, danger is usually close. The flat ground may offer a safer, but hence a more humble and less glorious path: those who run are more likely to trip than those who walk; yet the latter earn no respect for avoiding mistakes, while the former even fall with honor. Eloquence is like some other arts; it's never more appealing than when it takes the biggest risks. Have you noticed the cheers our tightrope walkers receive when they're in immediate danger? The most unexpected moments, or as the Greeks put it more expressively, the most dangerous moments, grab our admiration the most. A pilot’s skill is certainly not shown the same in calm waters as in a storm: in calm conditions, he enters the harbor quietly and without applause; but when the ropes snap, the mast bows, and the rudder groans, that’s when he truly shines and is celebrated as almost a sea-god.
The reason of my making this observation is, because, if I mistake not, you have marked some passages in my writings for being tumid, exuberant, and over-wrought, which, in my estimation, are but adequate to the thought, or boldly sublime. But it is material to consider whether your criticism turns upon such points as are real faults, or only striking and remarkable expressions. Whatever is elevated is sure to be observed; but it requires a very nice judgment to distinguish the bounds between true and false grandeur; between loftiness and exaggeration. To give an instance out of Homer, the author who can, with the greatest propriety, fly from one extreme of style to another.
The reason I'm bringing this up is that, if I'm not mistaken, you've pointed out some parts of my writing as being overly complex, excessive, and too elaborate, which I believe are just fitting for the idea or boldly impressive. However, it's important to consider whether your critique is focused on actual flaws or just striking and notable expressions. Anything that is elevated will definitely catch attention, but it takes careful judgment to tell the difference between true and false greatness, between being high-minded and being exaggerated. To give an example from Homer, the author who can most appropriately shift between different styles.
"Heav'n in loud thunder bids the trumpet sound;
And wide beneath them groans the rending ground."[153]
"Heaven in loud thunder commands the trumpet to sound; And beneath them, the ground groans in agony." [153]
Again,
Once more,
"Reclin'd on clouds his steed and armour lay."[154]
"Reclined on clouds, his horse and armor were resting." [154]
So in this passage:
Please provide the short piece of text for me to modernize.
"As torrents roll, increas'd by numerous rills,
With rage impetuous down their echoing hills,
Rush to the vales, and pour'd along the plain,
Roar through a thousand channels to the main."
"As torrents flow, fed by many streams, With furious force down their echoing hills, They rush to the valleys and spread across the plain, Roaring through a thousand channels to the sea."
It requires, I say, the nicest balance to poise these metaphors, and determine whether they are incredible and meaningless, or majestic and sublime. Not that I think anything which I have written, or can write, admits of comparison with these. I am not quite so foolish; but what I would be understood to contend for is, that we should give eloquence free rein, and not restrain the force and impetuosity of genius within too narrow a compass. But it will be said, perhaps, that one law applies to orators, another to poets. As if, in truth, Marc Tully were not as bold in his metaphors as any of the poets! But not to mention particular instances from him, in a point where, I imagine, there can be no dispute; does Demosthenes[155] himself, that model and standard of true oratory, does Demosthenes check and repress the fire of his indignation, in that well-known passage which begins thus: "These wicked men, these flatterers, and these destroyers of mankind," &c. And again: "It is neither with stones nor bricks that I have fortified this city," &c. — And afterwards: "I have thrown up these out-works before Attica, and pointed out to you all the resources which human prudence can suggest," &c.—And in another place: "O Athenians, I swear by the immortal gods that he is intoxicated with the grandeur of his own actions," &c.[156] — But what can be more daring and beautiful than that long digression, which begins in this manner: "A terrible disease?" — The following passage likewise, though somewhat shorter, is equally boldly conceived: — "Then it was I rose up in opposition to the daring Pytho, who poured forth a torrent of menaces against you," &c.[157] — The subsequent stricture is of the same stamp: "When a man has strengthened himself, as Philip has, in avarice and wickedness, the first pretence, the first false step, be it ever so inconsiderable, has overthrown and destroyed all," &c.[158]—So in the same style with the foregoing is this: — "Railed off, as it were, from the privileges of society, by the concurrent and just judgments of the three tribunals in the city." — And in the same place: "O Aristogiton! you have betrayed that mercy which used to be shown to offences of this nature, or rather, indeed, you have wholly destroyed it. In vain then would you fly for refuge to a port, which you have shut up, and encompassed with rocks."—He has said before: "I am afraid, therefore, you should appear in the judgment of some, to have erected a public seminary of faction: for there is a weakness in all wickedness which renders it apt to betray itself!" — And a little lower: "I see none of these resources open to him; but all is precipice gulf, and profound abyss."—And again: "Nor do I imagine that our ancestors erected those courts of judicature that men of his character should be planted there, but on the contrary', eradicated, that none may emulate their evil actions."—And afterwards: "If he is then the artificer of every wickedness, if he only makes it his trade and traffic," &c.—And a thousand other passages which I might cite to the same purpose; not to mention those expressions which Aeschines calls not words, but wonders.—You will tell me, perhaps, I have unwarily mentioned Aeschines, since Demosthenes is condemned even by him, for running into these figurative expressions. But observe, I entreat you, how far superior the former orator is to his critic, and superior too in the very passage to which he objects; for in others, the force of his genius, in those above quoted, its loftiness, makes itself manifest. But does Aeschines himself avoid those errors which he reproves in Demosthenes? "The orator," says he, "Athenians, and the law, ought to speak the same language; but when the voice of the law declares one thing, and that of the orator another we should give our vote to the justice of the law, not to the impudence of the orator."[159]—And in another place: "He afterwards manifestly discovered the design he had, of concealing his fraud under cover of the decree, having expressly declared therein that the ambassadors sent to the Oretae gave the five talents, not to you, but to Callias. And that you may be convinced of the truth of what I say (after having stripped the decree of its gallies, its trim, and its arrogant ostentation) the clause itself." — And in another part: "Suffer him not to break cover and escape out of the limits of the question." A metaphor he is so fond of that he repeats it again. "But remaining firm and confident in the assembly, drive him into the merits of the question, and observe well how he doubles."—Is his style more reserved and simple when he says: "But you are ever wounding our ears, and are more concerned in the success of your daily harangues than for the salvation of the city?"—What follows is conceived in a yet higher strain of metaphor: "Will you not expel this man as the common calamity of Greece? Will you not seize and punish this pirate of the state, who sails about in quest of favourable conjunctures," &c.—With many other passages of a similar nature. And now I expect you will make the same attacks upon certain expressions in this letter as you did upon those I have been endeavouring to defend. The rudder that groans, and the pilot compared to a sea-god, will not, I imagine, escape your criticism: for I perceive, while I am suing for indulgence to my former style, I have fallen into the same kind of figurative diction which you condemn. But attack them if you please provided you will immediately appoint a day when we may meet to discuss these matters in person: you will then either teach me to be less daring or I shall teach you to be more bold. Farewell.
It takes, I must say, a careful balance to use these metaphors and decide if they are unbelievable and pointless, or impressive and beautiful. Not that I think anything I’ve written, or could write, comes close to these. I'm not that foolish; what I’d like to argue is that we should let eloquence flow freely and not hold back the power and intensity of genius within too narrow limits. But someone might say that different rules apply to speakers than to poets. As if, in reality, Cicero wasn’t just as bold in his metaphors as any poet! But without citing specific examples from him, let’s consider this point where I think there’s no debate: does Demosthenes [155] himself, that model and standard for true oratory, does Demosthenes suppress and stifle his outrage in that famous part that starts: "These wicked men, these flatterers, and these destroyers of mankind," &c.? And again: "I did not fortify this city with stones or bricks," &c. — And later: "I have built these defenses for Attica, and pointed out to you all the resources that human wisdom can suggest," &c. — And in another place: "O Athenians, I swear by the immortal gods that he is intoxicated with the greatness of his own actions," &c.[156] — But what could be bolder and more beautiful than that long digression that starts like this: "A terrible disease?" — The following phrase, though a bit shorter, is equally boldly crafted: — "Then I stood up against the daring Pytho, who unleashed a torrent of threats against you," &c.[157] — The next remark is similarly bold: "When a man has fortified himself, like Philip has, in greed and wickedness, the first pretense, the first false step, no matter how minor, has ruined and destroyed all," &c.[158] — So, in the same style is this: — "Shut off, as it were, from the privileges of society, by the unanimous and just rulings of the three courts in the city." — And in the same context: "O Aristogiton! you have betrayed the mercy that used to be shown for offenses like this, or rather, you have completely destroyed it. It would be useless for you to seek refuge in a port that you have barricaded and surrounded with rocks." — He has previously said: "I fear, therefore, you may appear to some to have established a public institution for faction: for there is a weakness in all wickedness that makes it likely to betray itself!" — And a bit further down: "I see none of these resources open to him; everything is a precipice, a chasm, and a deep abyss." — And again: "Nor do I believe that our ancestors established those courts of justice for men of his character to occupy, but rather to eradicate such men so that no one may emulate their evil deeds." — And afterward: "If he is indeed the creator of all wickedness, if he only makes it his trade," &c. — And a thousand other passages I could cite for the same reason; not to mention those expressions which Aeschines calls not words, but wonders. — You might tell me, perhaps, that I’ve carelessly mentioned Aeschines, since even he criticizes Demosthenes for falling into figurative language. But notice, I urge you, how much superior the former orator is to his critic, and superior too in the very instance he objects to; for in other parts, the power of his genius, in those I just quoted, its elevation, is obvious. But does Aeschines himself avoid the faults he finds in Demosthenes? "The orator," he says, "Athenians, and the law, should speak the same language; but when the voice of the law states one thing, and that of the orator another, we should side with the justice of the law, not the audacity of the orator." [159] — And in another instance: "He later clearly revealed the intent he had of hiding his deceit behind the cover of the decree, having explicitly stated in it that the ambassadors sent to the Oretae gave the five talents, not to you, but to Callias. And to convince you of the truth of what I say (after stripping the decree of its embellishments, its flair, and its arrogant presentation), here is the clause itself." — And in another part: "Don’t let him escape and break away from the confines of the question." A metaphor he loves so much he repeats it again. "But standing firm and confident in the assembly, push him into the details of the question, and watch closely how he twists." — Is his style more reserved and straightforward when he says: "But you are always wounding our ears, and are more concerned with the success of your daily speeches than for the salvation of the city?" — What comes next is expressed in an even more elevated style of metaphor: "Will you not expel this man as the common disaster of Greece? Will you not seize and punish this pirate of the state, who sails around looking for favorable situations," &c. — With many other passages of a similar nature. And now I expect you will criticize certain expressions in this letter just as you did the ones I’ve been trying to defend. The groaning rudder, and the pilot likened to a sea-god, I imagine, won’t escape your scrutiny: for I realize, as I seek leniency for my previous style, I’ve fallen into the same kind of figurative language that you condemn. But criticize them if you wish, provided you immediately set a date when we can meet in person to discuss these matters: you will either teach me to be less daring, or I will teach you to be bolder. Farewell.
CVII — To CANINIUS
I HAVE met with a story, which, although authenticated by undoubted evidence, looks very like fable, and would afford a worthy field for the exercise of so exuberant, lofty, and truly poetical a genius as your own. It was related to me the other day over the dinner table, where the conversation happened to run upon various kinds of marvels. The person who told the story was a man of unsuspected veracity:—but what has a poet to do with truth? However, you might venture to rely upon his testimony, even though you had the character of a faithful historian to support. There is in Africa a town called Hippo, situated not far from the sea-coast: it stands upon a navigable lake, communicating with an estuary in the form of a river, which alternately flows into the lake, or into the ocean, according to the ebb and flow of the tide. People of all ages amuse themselves here with fishing, sailing, or swimming; especially boys, whom love of play brings to the spot. With these it is a fine and manly achievement to be able to swim the farthest; and he that leaves the shore and his companions at the greatest distance gains the victory. It happened, in one of these trials of skill, that a certain boy, bolder than the rest, launched out towards the opposite shore. He was met by a dolphin, who sometimes swam before him, and sometimes behind him, then played round him, and at last took him upon his back, and set him down, and afterwards took him up again; and thus he carried the poor frightened fellow out into the deepest part; when immediately he turns back again to the shore, and lands him among his companions. The fame of this remarkable accident spread through the town, and crowds of people flocked round the boy (whom they viewed as a kind of prodigy) to ask him questions and hear him relate the story. The next day the shore was thronged with spectators, all attentively watching the ocean, and (what indeed is almost itself an ocean) the lake. Meanwhile the boys swam as usual, and among the rest, the boy I am speaking of went into the lake, but with more caution than before. The dolphin appeared again and came to the boy, who, together with his companions, swam away with the utmost precipitation. The dolphin, as though to invite and call them back, leaped and dived up and down, in a series of circular movements. This he practised the next day, the day after, and for several days together, till the people (accustomed from their infancy to the sea) began to be ashamed of their timidity. They ventured, therefore, to advance nearer, playing with him and calling him to them, while he, in return, suffered himself to be touched and stroked. Use rendered them courageous. The boy, in particular, who first made the experiment, swam by the side of him, and, leaping upon his back, was carried backwards and forwards in that manner, and thought the dolphin knew him and was fond of him, while he too had grown fond of the dolphin. There seemed, now, indeed, to be no fear on either side, the confidence of the one and tameness of the other mutually increasing; the rest of the boys, in the meanwhile, surrounding and encouraging their companion. It is very remarkable that this dolphin was followed by a second, which seemed only as a spectator and attendant on the former; for he did not at all submit to the same familiarities as the first, but only escorted him backwards and forwards, as the boys did their comrade. But what is further surprising, and no less true than what I have already related, is that this dolphin, who thus played with the boys and carried them upon his back, would come upon the shore, dry himself in the sand, and, as soon as he grew warm, roll back into the sea. It is a fact that Octavius Avitus, deputy governor of the province, actuated by an absurd piece of superstition, poured some ointment[160] over him as he lay on the shore: the novelty and smell of which made him retire into the ocean, and it was not till several days after that he was seen again, when he appeared dull and languid; however, he recovered his strength and continued his usual playful tricks. All the magistrates round flocked hither to view this sight, whose arrival, and prolonged stay, was an additional expense, which the slender finances of this little community would ill afford; besides, the quiet and retirement of the place was utterly destroyed. It was thought proper, therefore, to remove the occasion of this concourse, by privately killing the poor dolphin. And now, with what a flow of tenderness will you describe this affecting catastrophe![161] and how will your genius adorn and heighten this moving story! Though, indeed, the subject does not require any fictitious embellishments; it will be sufficient to describe the actual facts of the case without suppression or diminution. Farewell.
I came across a story that, while backed by undeniable evidence, sounds a lot like a fable, and would be a great opportunity for someone as imaginative and poetic as you to explore. It was shared with me the other day at dinner, during a conversation about various extraordinary tales. The person who told the story was known for his honesty, but what does a poet care about truth? Still, you could pretty much trust his account, even if a reliable historian were there to vouch for it. In Africa, there’s a town called Hippo, located not far from the coast. It sits on a navigable lake that connects to a river estuary, which flows into the lake or the ocean, depending on the tide. People of all ages enjoy fishing, sailing, or swimming here, especially boys, who are drawn to the fun. For them, being able to swim the farthest is a big deal, and whoever swims away from the shore the farthest wins. One day, during one of these swimming competitions, a certain boy, braver than the others, paddled out toward the opposite shore. He was approached by a dolphin, which sometimes swam ahead of him and sometimes behind, playing around him, and eventually picked him up on its back, carried him out into deep water, and then brought him back to shore, safely among his friends. The news of this incredible event spread throughout the town, and crowds gathered around the boy, viewing him as some sort of wonder, eager to hear him recount the tale. The next day, the shore was packed with onlookers, all focused on the ocean and the lake. Meanwhile, the boys swam as usual, with our protagonist entering the lake again, albeit more cautiously this time. The dolphin returned and approached the boy, who, along with his friends, swam away in a panic. The dolphin, as if inviting them back, leaped and dove in circles. This continued for several days until the locals, used to the sea since childhood, began to feel embarrassed about their fear. They slowly got closer, playing and calling to the dolphin, who allowed them to touch and pet him. With familiarity came courage. The boy who first swam with the dolphin got so comfortable that he jumped onto its back, getting carried back and forth. He started to believe the dolphin recognized him and liked him, and he too became fond of the dolphin. At this point, there seemed to be no fear from either side, with their confidence and the dolphin's gentleness growing together, while the other boys surrounded and cheered on their friend. Interestingly, this dolphin was accompanied by another one, which appeared to just be a spectator, not engaging in the same friendly antics as the first, but instead swimming alongside as the boys did with their friend. Even more surprising, and just as true, is that this dolphin would come to shore, dry off in the sand, and once warmed up, roll back into the sea. There was an incident where Octavius Avitus, the deputy governor of the province, out of a silly superstition, poured some ointment on him while he was on the shore. The scent and feel of it drove the dolphin back into the water, and he wasn’t spotted again for several days, appearing sluggish when he finally returned. However, he regained his energy and continued his playful antics. All the local officials came to witness this spectacle, their arrival and extended stay putting a strain on the community’s limited resources and disrupting the peace of the place. It was decided that the best course of action was to remove the cause of this gathering by secretly killing the poor dolphin. And now, what a wave of emotion you will convey when you describe this tragic ending! How beautifully will you tell this touching story! Although, honestly, the facts alone are enough; it would suffice to present the actual events without alteration. Goodbye.
CVIII — TO FUSCUS
You want to know how I portion out my day, in my summer villa at Tuscum? I get up just when I please; generally about sunrise, often earlier, but seldom later than this. I keep the shutters closed, as darkness and silence wonderfully promote meditation. Thus free and abstracted from these outward objects which dissipate attention, I am left to my own thoughts; nor suffer my mind to wander with my eyes, but keep my eyes in subjection to my mind, which, when they are not distracted by a multiplicity of external objects, see nothing but what the imagination represents to them. If I have any work in hand, this is the time I choose for thinking it out, word for word, even to the minutest accuracy of expression. In this way I compose more or less, according as the subject is more or less difficult, and I find myself able to retain it. I then call my secretary, and, opening the shutters, dictate to him what I have put into shape, after which I dismiss him, then call him in again, and again dismiss him. About ten or eleven o'clock (for I do not observe one fixed hour), according to the weather, I either walk upon my terrace or in the covered portico, and there I continue to meditate or dictate what remains upon the subject in which I am engaged. This completed, I get into my chariot, where I employ myself as before, when I was walking, or in my study; and find this change of scene refreshes and keeps up my attention. On my return home, I take a little nap, then a walk, and after that repeat out loud and distinctly some Greek or Latin speech, not so much for the sake of strengthening my voice as my digestion;[162] though indeed the voice at the same time is strengthened by this practice. I then take another walk, am anointed, do my exercises, and go into the bath. At supper, if I have only my wife or a few friends with me, some author is read to us; and after supper we are entertained either with music or an interlude. When that is finished, I take my walk with my family, among whom I am not without some scholars. Thus we pass our evenings in varied conversation; and the day, even when at the longest, steals imperceptibly away. Upon some occasions I change the order in certain of the articles abovementioned. For instance, if I have studied longer or walked more than usual, after my second sleep, and reading a speech or two aloud, instead of using my chariot I get on horseback; by which means I ensure as much exercise and lose less time. The visits of my friends from the neighbouring villages claim some part of the day; and sometimes, by an agreeable interruption, they come in very seasonably to relieve me when I am feeling tired. I now and then amuse myself with hunting, but always take my tablets into the field, that, if I should meet with no game, I may at least bring home something. Part of my time too (though not so much as they desire) is allotted to my tenants; whose rustic complaints, along with these city occupations, make my literary studies still more delightful to me. Farewell. —
You want to know how I organize my day at my summer villa in Tuscum? I get up whenever I like; usually around sunrise, often earlier, but rarely later than that. I keep the shutters closed, as darkness and quiet really help with meditation. Free from distractions that pull my attention away, I'm left with my own thoughts; I don’t let my mind wander with my eyes, but keep my eyes focused on what my mind chooses to think about, which, when not distracted by numerous external things, sees only what my imagination presents. If I have any work to do, this is the time I dedicate to figuring it out, word for word, down to the tiniest detail. This way, I write more or less, depending on how difficult the topic is, and I find I can remember it. Then I call my secretary, and after opening the shutters, I dictate to him what I’ve organized. After that, I send him away, then call him back, and send him away again. Around ten or eleven o'clock (I don’t stick to one specific time), depending on the weather, I either walk on my terrace or in the covered portico, where I continue to meditate or dictate anything left on the topic I'm working on. Once that’s done, I hop into my chariot, where I keep working as I did while walking or in my study; I find this change of scenery refreshes me and helps me maintain my focus. When I get back home, I take a short nap, then go for a walk, and after that, I recite some Greek or Latin speech out loud and clearly, not only to strengthen my voice but also to aid my digestion; though, in fact, my voice gets stronger from this practice as well. Then I take another walk, get anointed, do my exercises, and take a bath. At supper, if it’s just my wife or a few friends, we read something together; and after supper, we enjoy either music or a small performance. Once that’s done, I take a walk with my family, among whom I’m lucky to have some students. This is how we spend our evenings talking about various topics; and the day, even when it’s long, slips by unnoticed. Sometimes I switch up the order of some of these activities. For example, if I’ve studied longer or walked more than usual, after my second nap and reading a couple of speeches aloud, instead of using my chariot, I ride a horse; this way, I get enough exercise and save time. Visits from friends in nearby villages take up part of my day; sometimes they come by just at the right moment to give me a break when I’m feeling tired. Occasionally, I enjoy hunting, but I always take my notebooks with me, so if I don’t catch anything, I at least have something to bring home. I also set aside some time for my tenants, though not as much as they’d like; their rural complaints, combined with my city work, make my literary studies even more enjoyable. Farewell. —
CIX — To PAULINUS
As you are not of a disposition to expect from your friends the ordinary ceremonial observances of society when they cannot observe them without inconvenience to themselves, so I love you too steadfastly to be apprehensive of your taking otherwise than I wish you should my not waiting upon you on the first day of your entrance upon the consular office, especially as I am detained here by the necessity of letting my farms upon long leases. I am obliged to enter upon an entirely new plan with my tenants: for under the former leases, though I made them very considerable abatements, they have run greatly in arrear. For this reason several of them have not only taken no sort of care to lessen a debt which they found themselves incapable of wholly discharging, but have even seized and consumed all the produce of the land, in the belief that it would now be of no advantage to themselves to spare it. I must therefore obviate this increasing evil, and endeavour to find out some remedy against it. The only one I can think of is, not to reserve my rent in money, but in kind, and so place some of my servants to overlook the tillage, and guard the stock; as indeed there is no sort of revenue more agreeable to reason than what arises from the bounty of the soil, the seasons, and the climate. It is true, this method will require great honesty, sharp eyes, and many hands. However, I must risk the experiment, and, as in an inveterate complaint, try every change of remedy. You see, it is not any pleasurable indulgence that prevents my attending you on the first day of your consulship. I shall celebrate it nevertheless, as much as if I were present, and pay my vows for you here, with all the warmest tokens of joy and congratulation. Farewell.
Since you don't expect your friends to follow the usual social niceties when it causes them inconvenience, I care about you too much to worry that you might think otherwise about my not being there on the first day of your consular term, especially since I'm tied up here with the necessity of leasing my farms on long-term agreements. I have to start a completely new approach with my tenants because, despite giving them significant discounts on their payments, they are deeply in debt. Because of this, several of them have not only neglected to reduce a debt they know they can't fully pay off, but they've also taken and used all the produce from the land, mistakenly thinking it won’t benefit them to save it. I need to address this growing problem and find a way to combat it. The only solution I can think of is to not collect my rent in cash, but in kind, and to assign some of my workers to oversee the farming and care for the livestock; after all, there’s no income more reasonable than what comes from the generosity of the earth, the seasons, and the climate. It's true that this approach will require a lot of honesty, keen observation, and plenty of labor. Still, I have to take the chance and, just like with a stubborn illness, try every possible remedy. You see, it’s not a matter of enjoying myself that stops me from celebrating your first day as consul. I will still honor the occasion as much as if I were there, offering my best wishes and congratulations for you here with all my heartfelt joy. Farewell.
CX — To FUSCUS
You are much pleased, I find, with the account I gave you in my former letter of how I spend the summer season at Tuscum, and desire to know what alteration I make in my method when I am at Laurentum in the winter. None at all, except abridging myself of my sleep at noon, and borrowing a good piece of the night before daybreak and after sunset for study: and if business is very urgent (which in winter very frequently happens), instead of having interludes or music after supper, I reconsider whatever I have previously dictated, and improve my memory at the same time by this frequent mental revision. Thus I have given you a general sketch of my mode of life in summer and winter; to which you may add the intermediate seasons of spring and autumn, in which, while losing nothing out of the day, I gain but little from the night. Farewell.
I'm glad to hear you enjoyed my last letter about how I spend my summer at Tuscum, and you want to know how my routine changes when I'm at Laurentum in the winter. Honestly, there's not much difference, except I cut back on my midday nap and take advantage of a good chunk of the night before dawn and after sunset for studying. If there's something really urgent, which often happens in winter, instead of relaxing with music after dinner, I go over what I've already written and work on improving my memory through this frequent review. So that's a general overview of my lifestyle in both summer and winter; you can also consider the spring and autumn in which I don't lose any daylight but gain very little from the night. Take care.
FOOTNOTES TO THE LETTERS OF PLINY]
1 (return)
[ A pupil and intimate friend
of Paetus Thrasea, the distinguished Stoic philosopher. Arulenus was put
to death by Domitian for writing a panegyric upon Thrasea.]
1 (return)
[ A student and close friend of Paetus Thrasea, the renowned Stoic philosopher. Arulenus was executed by Domitian for writing a tribute to Thrasea.]
2 (return)
[ The impropriety of this
expression, in the original, seems to he in the word stigmosum, which
Regulus, probably either coined through affectation or used through
ignorance. It is a word, at least, which does not occur in any author of
authority: the translator has endeavoured, therefore, to preserve the same
sort of impropriety, by using an expression of like unwarranted stamp in
his own tongue. M.]
2 (return)
[ The inappropriateness of this expression in the original text seems to lie in the word "stigmosum," which Regulus likely either invented to show off or used out of ignorance. It's definitely a word that doesn't appear in any credible sources. The translator has tried to maintain a similar type of inappropriateness by using a similarly questionable expression in their own language. M.]
3 (return)
[ An allusion to a wound he
had received in the war between Vitellius and Vespasian.]
3 (return)
[ A reference to an injury he sustained during the war between Vitellius and Vespasian.]
4 (return)
[ A brother of Piso Galba's
adopted son. He was put to death by Nero.]
4 (return)
[ A brother of Piso, Galba's adopted son. He was executed by Nero.]
5 (return)
[ Sulpicius Camerinus, put to
death by the same emperor, upon some frivolous charge.]
5 (return)
[Sulpicius Camerinus was executed by the same emperor on some trivial charge.]
6 (return)
[ A select body of men who
formed a court of judicature, called the centurnviral court. Their
jurisdiction extended chiefly, if not entirely, to questions of wills and
intestate estates. Their number, it would seem, amounted to 100. M.]
6 (return)
[ A group of men who made up a court, known as the centurnviral court. Their authority mainly, if not completely, covered issues related to wills and estates of those who died without a will. It seems their number was around 100. M.]
7 (return)
[ Junius Mauricus, the
brother of Rusticus Arulenus. Both brothers were sentenced on the same
day, Arulenue to execution and Mauricui to banishment.]
7 (return)
[Junius Mauricus, the brother of Rusticus Arulenus. Both brothers were sentenced on the same day, Arulenus to execution and Mauricus to banishment.]
8 (return)
[ There seems to have been a
cast of uncommon blackness in the character of this Regulus; otherwise the
benevolent Pliny would scarcely have singled him out, as he has in this
and some following letters, for the subject of his warmest contempt and
indignation. Yet, infamous as he was, he had his flatterers and admirers;
and a contemporary poet frequently represents him as one of the most
finished characters of the age, both in eloquence and virtue. M.]
8 (return)
[ It appears that there was something unusually dark about the character of this Regulus; otherwise, the kind-hearted Pliny would hardly have singled him out, as he has in this and a few subsequent letters, for his deepest contempt and anger. Yet, despite his disgraceful reputation, he had his share of admirers and sycophants; a contemporary poet often portrays him as one of the most accomplished individuals of the time, both in speech and moral character. M.]
9 (return)
[ The Decurii were a sort of
senators in the municipal or corporate cities of Italy. M.]
9 (return)
[ The Decurii served as a type of senator in the municipal or corporate cities of Italy. M.]
10 (return)
[ "Euphrates was a native
of Tyre, or, according to others, of Byzantium. He belonged to the Stoic
school of philosophy. In his old age he became tired of life, and asked
and obtained from Hadrian permission to put an end to himself by poison."
Smith's Dict. of Greek and Roman Biog.]
10 (return)
[ "Euphrates was originally from Tyre, or, according to some, from Byzantium. He was part of the Stoic school of philosophy. In his later years, he grew weary of life and requested, and received, permission from Hadrian to take his own life using poison." Smith's Dict. of Greek and Roman Biog.]
11 (return)
[ A pleader and historian
of some distinction, mentioned by Tacitus, Ann. XIV. 19, and by
Quintilian, X, I, 102.]
11 (return)
[ A notable lawyer and historian, referenced by Tacitus, Ann. XIV. 19, and by Quintilian, X, I, 102.]
12 (return)
[ Padua.]
12 (__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__)
[Padua.]
13 (return)
[ Domitian]
13 (__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__)
[Domitian]
15 (return)
[ Equal to about $4,000 of
our money. After the reign of Augustus the value of the sesterces.]
15 (return)
[ Equal to about $4,000 in today's money. After Augustus's reign, the worth of the sesterces.]
16 (return)
[ "The equestrian dignity,
or that order of the Roman people which we commonly call knights, had
nothing in it analogous to any order of modern knighthood, but depended
entirely upon a valuation of their estates; and every citizen, whose
entire fortune amounted to 400,000 sesterces, that is, to about $16000 of
our money, was enrolled, of course, in the list of knights, who were
considered as a middle order between the senators and common people, yet,
without any other distinction than the privilege of wearing a gold ring,
which was the peculiar badge of their order." Life of Cicero, Vol. I. III.
in note. M.]
16 (return)
[ "The equestrian class, or the group of the Roman people known as knights, didn’t resemble modern orders of knighthood at all. Instead, it was entirely based on the value of their property. Any citizen whose total wealth reached 400,000 sesterces, or about $16,000 today, was automatically listed among the knights. They were seen as a middle class between the senators and common people, but their only real distinction was the privilege of wearing a gold ring, which was the unique symbol of their rank." Life of Cicero, Vol. I. III. in note. M.]
17 (return)
[ An elegant Attic orator,
remarkable for the grace and lucidity of his style, also for his vivid and
accurate delineations of character.]
17 (return)
[ An impressive speaker from Athens, known for the elegance and clarity of his style, as well as for his vivid and precise portrayals of character.]
18 (return)
[ A graceful and powerful
orator, and friend of Densosthenes.]
18 (return)
[ A skilled and eloquent speaker, and a friend of Demosthenes.]
19 (return)
[ A Roman orator of the
Augustan age. He was a poet and historian as well, but gained most
distinction as an orator.]
19 (return)
[ A Roman speaker from the Augustan period. He was also a poet and historian, but he became most well-known for his skills as an orator.]
20 (return)
[ A man of considerable
taste, talent, and eloquence, but profligate and extravagant. He was on
terms of some intimacy with Cicero.]
20 (return)
[ A man of great taste, skill, and charm, but wasteful and extravagant. He was fairly close with Cicero.]
21 (return)
[ The praetor was assisted
by ten assessors, five of whom were senators, and the rest knights. With
these he was obliged to consult before he pronounced sentence. M.]
21 (return)
[ The praetor had help from ten advisers, five of whom were senators and the other five were knights. He had to consult with them before making a decision. M.]
22 (return)
[ A contemporary and rival
of Aristophanes.]
22 (return)
[ A modern-day competitor of Aristophanes.]
23 (return)
[ Aristophanes, Ach. 531]
23 (__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__)
[ Aristophanes, Ach. 531]
27 (return)
[ Great-grandfather of the
Emperor M. Aurelius.]
27 (return)
[ Great-grandfather of Emperor M. Aurelius.]
28 (return)
[ An eminent lawyer of
Trajan's reign.]
28 (return)
[A prominent lawyer during Trajan's rule.]
29 (return)
[ The philosophers used to
hold their disputations in the gymnasia and porticoes, being places of the
most public resort for walking, &c. M.]
29 (return)
[ Philosophers used to hold their discussions in the gymnasiums and porches, which were the most popular places for walking, etc. M.]
30 (return)
[ "Verginius Rufus was
governor of Upper Germany at the time of the revolt of Julius Vindex in
Gaul. A.D. 68. The soldiers of Verginius wished to raise him to the
empire, but he refused the honour, and marched against Vindex, who
perished before Vesontio. After the death of Nero, Verginius supported the
claims of Galba, and accompanied him to Rome. Upon Otho's death, the
soldiers again attempted to proclaim Verginius emperor, and in consequence
of his refusal of the honour, he narrowly escaped with his life." (See
Smith's Dict. of Greek and Rom. Biog., &c.)]
30 (return)
[ "Verginius Rufus was governor of Upper Germany during the revolt of Julius Vindex in Gaul in A.D. 68. Verginius's soldiers wanted to make him emperor, but he declined the honor and led his troops against Vindex, who died near Vesontio. After Nero's death, Verginius backed Galba's claim to the throne and traveled with him to Rome. Following Otho's death, the soldiers tried again to declare Verginius emperor, and due to his refusal of the honor, he barely escaped with his life." (See Smith's Dict. of Greek and Rom. Biog., &c.)]
31 (return)
[ Nerva.]
31 (__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__)
[Nerva.]
32 (return)
[ The historian,]
32 (__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__)
[ The historian,]
33 (return)
[ Namely, of augurs. "This
college, as regulated by Sylla, consisted of fifteen, who were all persons
of the first distinction in Rome; it was a priesthood for life, of a
character indelible, which no crime or forfeiture could efface; it was
necessary that every candidate should be nominated to the people by two
augurs, who gave a solemn testimony upon, oath of his dignity and fitness
for that office." Middleton's Life of Cicero, I. 547. M.]
33 (return)
[ Specifically, of augurs. "This college, established by Sylla, was made up of fifteen members, all highly esteemed individuals in Rome; it was a lifetime priesthood with an indelible status that no crime or loss of rights could erase; it was essential for every candidate to be nominated to the people by two augurs, who would provide a formal testimony under oath regarding his honor and suitability for the position." Middleton's Life of Cicero, I. 547. M.]
34 (return)
[ The ancient Greeks and
Romans did not sit up at the table as we do, but reclined round it on
couches, three and sometimes even four occupying one conch, at least this
latter was the custom among the Romans. Each guest lay flat upon his chest
while eating, reaching out his hand from time to time to the table, for
what he might require. As soon as he had made a sufficient meal, he turned
over upon his left side, leaning on the elbow.]
34 (return)
[ The ancient Greeks and Romans didn't sit at the table like we do; instead, they reclined around it on couches, with three or even four people on one couch, at least that was the custom among the Romans. Each guest lay flat on his stomach while eating, reaching out to the table occasionally for what he needed. Once he had eaten enough, he would roll over onto his left side and lean on his elbow.]
36 (return)
[ "Any Roman priest devoted
to the service of one particular god was designated Flamen, receiving a
distinguishing epithet from the deity to whom he ministered. The office
was understood to last for life; but a flamen might be compelled to resign
for a breach of duty, or even on account of the occurrence of an
ill-omened accident while discharging his functions." Smith's Dictionary
of Antiquities.]
36 (return)
["Any Roman priest dedicated to serving a specific god was called a Flamen, and he would receive a unique title based on the deity he served. This position was expected to last for life; however, a flamen could be forced to step down for failing to fulfill his duties or if an unfortunate event occurred while performing his responsibilities." Smith's Dictionary of Antiquities.]
37 (return)
[ Trajan.]
37 (__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__)
[ Trajan.]
38 (return)
[ By a law passed A. D.
76, it was enacted that every citizen of Rome who had three children
should be excused from all troublesome offices where he lived. This
privilege the emperors sometimes extended to those who were not legally
entitled to it.]
38 (return)
[ A law passed in 76 A.D. stated that every citizen of Rome with three children should be excused from any burdensome duties in their area. This benefit was sometimes granted by the emperors to those who didn’t officially qualify for it.]
39 (return)
[ About 54 cents.]
39 (__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__)
[ Around 54 cents.]
40 (return)
[ Avenue]
40 (__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__)
[Avenue]
41 (return)
[ "Windows made of a
transparent stone called lapis specularis (mica), which was first found in
Hispania Citerior, and afterwards in Cyprus, Cappadocia, Sicily, and
Africa; but the best caine from Spain and Cappadocia. It was easily split
into the thinnest sheets. Windows, made of this stone were called
specularia." Smith's Dictionary of Antiquities.]
41 (return)
[ "Windows made of a clear stone called lapis specularis (mica), first discovered in Hispania Citerior, and later in Cyprus, Cappadocia, Sicily, and Africa; but the best came from Spain and Cappadocia. It could be easily split into very thin sheets. Windows made from this stone were known as specularia." Smith's Dictionary of Antiquities.]
42 (return)
[ A feast held in honour of
the god Saturn, which began on the 19th of December, and continued as some
say, for seven days. It was a time of general rejoicing, particularly
among the slaves, who had at this season the privilege of taking great
liberties with their masters. M.]
42 (return)
[ A celebration in honor of the god Saturn that started on December 19th and lasted for what some say was seven days. It was a period of widespread joy, especially for slaves, who during this time enjoyed the freedom to act with considerable leniency towards their masters. M.]
43 (return)
[ Cicero and Quintilian
have laid down rules how far, and in what instances, this liberty was
allowable, and both agree it ought to be used with great sagacity and
judgment. The latter of these excellent critics mentions a witticism of
Flavius Virginius, who asked one of these orators, "Quot nillia assuum
deciamassett." How many miles he had declaimed. M.]
43 (return)
[ Cicero and Quintilian have established guidelines on when and how much freedom is acceptable in speech, and both concur that it should be employed with careful thought and discernment. The latter of these insightful critics references a clever remark by Flavius Virginius, who asked one of these speakers, "How many miles have you declaimed?" M.]
44 (return)
[ This was an act of great
ceremony; and if Aurelia's dress was of the kind which some of the Roman
ladies used, the legacy must have been considerable which Regulus had the
impudence to ask. M.]
44 (return)
[ This was a highly formal event; and if Aurelia's dress was similar to what some Roman women wore, Regulus must have had the audacity to request a significant amount. M.]
45 (return)
[ $3,350,000.]
45 (__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__)
[$3,350,000.]
46 (return)
[ A poet to whom Quintilian
assigns the highest rank, as a Writer of tragedies, among his
contemporaries (book X. C. I. 98). Tacitus also speaks of him in terms of
high appreciation (Annals, v. 8).]
46 (return)
[A poet whom Quintilian ranks as the top writer of tragedies among his peers (book X. C. I. 98). Tacitus also praises him highly (Annals, v. 8).]
47 (return)
[ Stepson of Augustus and
brother to Tiberius. An amiable and popular prince. He died at the close
of his third campaign, from a fracture received by falling from his
horse.]
47 (return)
[ Stepson of Augustus and brother to Tiberius. A likeable and well-liked prince. He died at the end of his third campaign due to a fracture he sustained from falling off his horse.]
48 (return)
[ A historian under
Augustus and Tiberius. He wrote part of a history of Rome, which was
continued by the elder Pliny; also an account of the German war, to which
Quintilian makes allusion (Inst. X. 103), pronouncing him, as a historian,
"estimable in all respects, yet in some things failing to do himself
justice."]
48 (return)
[ A historian during the reigns of Augustus and Tiberius. He wrote part of a history of Rome, which was continued by the elder Pliny; he also chronicled the German war, which Quintilian references (Inst. X. 103), stating that he is, as a historian, "valuable in every way, though in some aspects he fails to do himself justice."]
49 (return)
[ The distribution of time
among the Romans was very different from ours. They divided the night into
four equal parts, which they called watches, each three hours in length;
and part of these they devoted either to the pleasures of the table or to
study. The natural day they divided into twelve hours, the first beginning
with sunrise, and the last ending with sunset; by which means their hours
were of unequal length, varying according to the different seasons of the
year. The time for business began with sunrise, and continued to the fifth
hour, being that of dinner, which with them was only a slight repast. From
thence to the seventh hour was a time of repose; a custom which still
prevails in Italy. The eighth hour was employed in bodily exercises; after
which they constantly bathed, and from thence went to supper. M.]
49 (return)
[ The way Romans allocated their time was quite different from how we do today. They divided the night into four equal segments called watches, each lasting three hours; some of this time was spent enjoying meals or studying. They split the daytime into twelve hours, starting with sunrise and ending at sunset, so their hours varied in length depending on the season. Business hours began at sunrise and lasted until the fifth hour, which was when they had dinner—a light meal for them. From then until the seventh hour, it was time to relax, a tradition that still exists in Italy. The eighth hour was dedicated to physical activities; after that, they would bathe and then have supper. M.]
50 (return)
[ $16,000.]
50 (__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__)
[ $16,000.]
51 (return)
[ Born about A. D. 25. He
acquired some distinction as an advocate. The only poem of his which has
come down to us is a heavy prosaic performance in seventeen books,
entitled "Tunica," and containing an account of the events of the Second
Punic War, from the capture of Saguntum to the triumph of Scipio
Africanus. See Smith's Dict. of Gr. and Roin. Biog.]
51 (return)
[ Born around A.D. 25. He gained some recognition as a lawyer. The only poem of his that has survived is a long, prose-like work in seventeen books, called "Tunica," which details the events of the Second Punic War, from the capture of Saguntum to the triumph of Scipio Africanus. See Smith's Dict. of Gr. and Roin. Biog.]
52 (return)
[ Trajan.]
52 (__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__)
[Trajan.]
53 (return)
[ Spurinna's wife.]
53 (__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__)
[Spurinna's spouse.]
54 (return)
[ Domitian banished the
philosophers not only from Rome, but Italy, as Suetonius (Dom. C. X.) and
Aulus Gellius (Noct. Att. b. XV. CXI. 3, 4, 5) Inform us among these was
the celebrated Epictetus. M.]
54 (return)
[ Domitian expelled the philosophers not just from Rome, but from Italy as well, as Suetonius (Dom. C. X.) and Aulus Gellius (Noct. Att. b. XV. CXI. 3, 4, 5) inform us. Among them was the famous Epictetus. M.]
55 (return)
[ The following is the
story, as related by several of the ancient historians. Paetus, having
joined Scribonianus, who was in arms, in Illyria, against Claudius, was
taken after the death of Scribonianus, and condemned to death. Arria
having, in vain, solicited his life, persuaded him to destroy himself,
rather than suffer the ignominy of falling by the executioner's hands;
and, in order to encourage him to an act, to which, it seems, he was not
particularly inclined, she set him the example in the manner Pliny
relates. M.]
55 (return)
[ Here’s the story, as told by several ancient historians. Paetus, after joining Scribonianus, who was in arms in Illyria against Claudius, was captured after Scribonianus's death and sentenced to death. Arria, having tried in vain to save his life, urged him to take his own life instead of facing the shame of execution. To motivate him to do what he seemed reluctant to do, she set an example for him in the way Pliny describes. M.]
56 (return)
[ Trajan.]
56 (__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__)
[Trajan.]
57 (return)
[ The Roman, used to employ
their criminals in the lower ones of husbandry, such as ploughing, &c.
Pun. H. N. 1. 18, 3. M.]
57 (return)
[The Romans used to employ their criminals in lower agricultural tasks, like plowing, etc. Pun. H. N. 1. 18, 3. M.]
58 (return)
[ About $500,000.]
58 (__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__)
[ About $500k.]
59 (return)
[ About $800,000.]
59 (__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__)
[ About $800K.]
60 (return)
[ One of the famous seven
hills upon which Rome was situated.]
60 (return)
[ One of the renowned seven hills that Rome was built on.]
61 (return)
[ Mart. LX. 19.]
61 (__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__)
[ Mart. LX. 19.]
62 (return)
[ Calpurnia, Pliny's wife.]
62 (__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__)
[ Calpurnia, Pliny's spouse.]
64 (return)
[ The Romans had an
absolute power over their children, of which no age or station of the
latter deprived them.]
64 (return)
[ The Romans had complete control over their children, and this power was not diminished by the age or status of the children.]
65 (return)
[ Their business was to
interpret dreams, oracles, prodigies, &c., and to foretell whether any
action should be fortunate or prejudicial, to particular persons, or to
the whole commonwealth. Upon this account, they very often occasioned the
displacing of magistrates, the deferring of public assemblies, &c.
Kennet's Ron,. Antig. M.]
65 (return)
[ Their job was to interpret dreams, oracles, and omens, and to predict whether certain actions would be beneficial or harmful to specific individuals or the entire community. Because of this, they often led to the removal of officials, the postponement of public meetings, etc. Kennet's Ron,. Antig. M.]
66 (return)
[ Trajan.]
66 (__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__)
[Trajan.]
67 (return)
[ A slave was incapable of
property; and, therefore, whatever he acquired became the right of his
master. M.]
67 (return)
[ A slave couldn't own property; so anything they obtained belonged to their master. M.]
68 (return)
[ "Their office was to
attend upon the rites of Vests, the chief part of which was the
preservation of the holy fire. If this fire happened to go out, it was
considered impiety to light it at any common flame, but they made use of
the pure and unpolluted rays of the sun for that purpose. There were
various other duties besides connected with their office. The chief rules
prescribed them were, to vow the strictest chastity, for the space of
thirty years. After this term was completed, they had liberty to leave the
order. If they broke their vow of virginity, they were buried alive in a
place allotted to that peculiar use." Kennet's Antiq. Their reputation for
sanctity was so high that Livy mentions the fact of two of those virgins
having violated their vows, as a prodigy that, threatened destruction to
the Roman state. Lib. XXII. C. 57. And Suetonius inform, us that Augiastus
had so high an opinion of this religious order, that he consigned the care
of his will to the Vestal Virgins. Suet, in vit. Aug. C. XCI. M.]
68 (return)
[ "Their role was to oversee the rituals of Vesta, which primarily involved keeping the sacred fire alive. If this fire went out, they couldn't light it using any ordinary flame; instead, they used the pure and untainted rays of the sun. They had various other responsibilities related to their position. The main rules they followed included a vow of strict chastity for thirty years. After this period, they were free to leave the order. If they broke their vow of virginity, they would be buried alive in a designated location for that purpose." Kennet's Antiq. Their reputation for holiness was so significant that Livy noted the occurrence of two of these virgins breaking their vows, considering it a sign that threatened the destruction of the Roman state. Lib. XXII. C. 57. Suetonius also informs us that Augustus held this religious order in such high regard that he entrusted the management of his will to the Vestal Virgins. Suet, in vit. Aug. C. XCI. M.]
69 (return)
[ It was usual with
Domitian to triumph, not only without a victory, but even after a defeat,
M.]
69 (return)
[ It was common for Domitian to celebrate triumphs, not only without a victory, but even after a loss, M.]
70 (return)
[ Euripides' Hecuba,]
70 (__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__)
[Euripides' Hecuba,]
71 (return)
[ The punishment inflicted
upon the violators of Vestal chastity was to be scourged to death. M.]
71 (return)
[ The punishment for those who violated Vestal chastity was to be whipped to death. M.]
72 (return)
[ Calpurnia, Pliny's wife.]
72 (__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__)
[ Calpurnia, Pliny's spouse.]
73 (return)
[ Gratilla was the wife of
Rusticus: Rusticus was put to death by Domitian, and Gratilla banished. It
was sufficient crime in the reign of that execrable prince to be even a
friend of those who were obnoxious to him. M.]
73 (return)
[ Gratilla was the wife of Rusticus. Rusticus was executed by Domitian, and Gratilla was exiled. During the reign of that despised ruler, it was a serious offense just to be a friend of someone he disliked. M.]
74 (return)
[ In the original,
scrinium, box for holding MSS.]
74 (return)
[ In the original, scrinium, box for holding manuscripts.]
75 (return)
[ The hippodromus, in its
proper signification, was a place, among the Grecians, set apart for
horse-racing and other exercises of that kind. But it seems here to be
nothing more than a particular walk, to which Pliny perhaps gave that
name, from its bearing some resemblance in its form to the public places
so called. M.]
75 (return)
[ The hippodrome, in its original meaning, was a spot designated by the Greeks for horse racing and similar activities. However, it seems that in this context, it refers to a specific path that Pliny may have named, as its shape resembled those public areas. M.]
76 (return)
[ Now called Frascati,
Tivoli, and Palestrina, all of them situated in the Campagna di Roma, and
at no great distance from Rome. M.]
76 (return)
[ Now known as Frascati, Tivoli, and Palestrina, all located in the Roman countryside, and not far from Rome. M.]
77 (return)
[ "This is said in allusion
to the idea of Nemesis supposed to threaten excessive prosperity." (Church
and Brodribb.)]
77 (return)
[ "This refers to the concept of Nemesis believed to punish excessive success." (Church and Brodribb.)]
78 (return)
[ About $15,000.]
78 (__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__)
[ About $15,000.]
79 (return)
[ About $42,000.]
79 (__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__)
[ About $42,000. ]
80 (return)
[ None had the right of
using family pictures or statues but those whose ancestors or themselves
had borne some of the highest dignities. So that the jus imaginis was much
the same thing among the Romans as the right of bearing a coat of arms
among us. Ken. Antiq. M.]
80 (return)
[ Only those whose ancestors or themselves had held some of the highest honors had the right to use family pictures or statues. So, the jus imaginis was quite similar among the Romans to the right to bear a coat of arms in our society. Ken. Antiq. M.]
81 (return)
[ The Roman physicians used
to send their patients in consumptive cases into Egypt, particularly to
Alexandria. M.]
81 (return)
[ The Roman doctors would send their patients with tuberculosis to Egypt, especially to Alexandria. M.]
82 (return)
[ Frejus, in Provence, the
southern part of France. M.]
82 (return)
[Fréjus, in Provence, the southern region of France. M.]
83 (return)
[ A court of justice
erected by Julius Cæsar in the forum, and opposite to the basilica
Aemilia.]
83 (return)
[A court of law built by Julius Caesar in the forum, directly across from the Basilica Aemilia.]
84 (return)
[ The deceniviri seem to
have been magistrates for the administration of justice, subordinate to
the praetors, who (to give the English reader a general notion of their
office) may be termed lords chief justices, as the judges here mentioned
were something in the nature of our juries. M.]
84 (return)
[ The decemviri appear to have been officials responsible for administering justice, working under the praetors. To give the English reader a general idea of their role, they could be likened to chief justices, while the judges mentioned here were somewhat similar to our juries. M.]
85 (return)
[ About $400.]
85 (__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__)
[ About $400.]
86 (return)
[ This silly piece of
superstition seems to have been peculiar to Regulus, and not of any
general practice; at least it is a custom of which we find no other
mention in antiquity. M.]
86 (return)
[ This ridiculous superstition appears to have been unique to Regulus and isn’t a common practice; at least, we find no other references to it in ancient times. M.]
87 (return)
[ "We gather from Martial
that the wearing of these was not an unusual practice with fops and
dandies." See Epig. II. 29, in which he ridicules a certain Rufus, and
hints that if you were to "strip off the 'splenia (plasters)' from his
face, you would find out that he was a branded runaway slave." (Church and
Brodribb.)]
87 (return)
[ "We learn from Martial that wearing these was a common thing among fops and dandies." See Epig. II. 29, where he mocks a guy named Rufus, suggesting that if you were to "take off the 'splenia (plasters)' from his face, you'd discover he was a branded runaway slave." (Church and Brodribb.)]
88 (return)
[ His wife.]
88 (__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__)
[His spouse.]
91 (return)
[ Nevertheless, Javolentis
Priscus was one of the most eminent lawyers of his time, and is frequently
quoted in the Digesta of Justinian.]
91 (return)
[ Still, Javolentis Priscus was one of the most notable lawyers of his era and is often referenced in the Digesta of Justinian.]
93 (return)
[ The Romans used to lie or
walk naked in the sun, after anointing their bodies with oil, which was
esteemed as greatly contributing to health, and therefore daily practised
by them. This custom, however, of anointing themselves, is inveighed
against by the Satirists as in the number of their luxurious indulgences:
but since we find the elder Pliny here, and the amiable Spurinna in a
former letter, practising this method, we can not suppose the thing itself
was esteemed unmanly, but only when it was attended with some particular
circumstances of an over-refined delicacy. M.]
93 (return)
[ The Romans would lie or walk naked in the sun after rubbing oil on their bodies, which they considered a key part of staying healthy and practiced daily. However, this habit of applying oil was criticized by the Satirists as just one of their many excesses. Yet, since we see the elder Pliny and the pleasant Spurinna engaging in this practice, we can’t assume it was seen as unmanly; rather, it was likely only frowned upon when accompanied by certain aspects of excessive luxury. M.]
94 (return)
[ Now called Castelamare,
in the Bay of Naples. M.]
94 (return)
[ Now known as Castelamare, in the Bay of Naples. M.]
95 (return)
[ The Stoic and Epicurean
philosophers held that the world was to be destroyed by fire, and all
things fall again into original chaos; not excepting even the national
gods themselves from the destruction of this general conflagration. M.]
95 (return)
[ The Stoic and Epicurean philosophers believed that the world would eventually be destroyed by fire, causing everything to return to its original chaos, including even the national gods themselves in this widespread destruction. M.]
96 (return)
[ The lake Larius.]
96 (__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__)
[ Lake Larius.]
97 (return)
[ Those families were
styled patrician whose ancestors had been members of the senate in the
earliest times of the regal or consular government. M.]
97 (return)
[ Those families were known as patricians, whose ancestors had been part of the senate during the earliest times of the monarchy or consular system. M.]
98 (return)
[ Trajan]
98 (__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__)
[Trajan]
99 (return)
[ The consuls, though they
were chosen in August, did not enter upon their office till the first of
January, during which interval they were styled consules designati,
consuls elect. It was usual for them upon that occasion to compliment the
emperor, by whose appointment, after the dissolution of the republican
government, they were chosen. M.]
99 (return)
[ The consuls, although they were selected in August, didn't officially take office until January 1st. During this time, they were referred to as consules designati, or consuls elect. It was customary for them to express their appreciation to the emperor, who appointed them after the end of the republican government. M.]
100 (return)
[ So called, because it
formerly belonged to Camillus. M.]
100 (return)
[ It's called that because it used to belong to Camillus. M.]
101 (return)
[ Civita Vecchia.]
101 (__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__)
[Civitavecchia.]
102 (return)
[ Trajan.]
102 (__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__)
[Trajan.]
103 (return)
[ An officer in the Roman
legions, answering in some sort to a captain In our companies. M.]
103 (return)
[ An officer in the Roman legions, similar to a captain in our companies. M.]
104 (return)
[ This law was made by
Augustus Cæsar; but it nowhere clearly appears what was the peculiar
punishment it inflicted. M.]
104 (return)
[ This law was established by Augustus Caesar; however, it’s not clearly stated what specific punishment it imposed. M.]
105 (return)
[ An officer employed by
the emperor to receive and regulate the public revenue in the provinces.
M.]
105 (return)
[An officer hired by the emperor to manage and oversee the public revenue in the provinces. M.]
106 (return)
[ Comprehending
Transylvania, Moldavia, and Walaehia. M.]
106 (return)
[ Understanding Transylvania, Moldavia, and Wallachia. M.]
107 (return)
[ Polycletus was a
freedman, and great favourite of Nero. M.]
107 (return)
[ Polycletus was a freedman and a close favorite of Nero. M.]
108 (return)
[ Memmius, or Rhemmius
(the critics are not agreed which), was author of a law by which it was
enacted that whosoever was convicted of calumny and false accusation
should be stigmatised with a mark in his forehead; and by the law of the
twelve tables, false accusers were to suffer the same punishment as would
have been inflicted upon the person unjustly accused if the crime had been
proved. M.]
108 (return)
[ Memmius, or Rhemmius (the critics can’t agree which), created a law stating that anyone convicted of slander or false accusations would be branded with a mark on their forehead. According to the law of the twelve tables, false accusers were to receive the same punishment that would have been given to the person wrongfully accused if the crime had been proven. M.]
109 (return)
[ Trajan.]
109 (__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__)
[Trajan.]
110 (return)
[ Unction was much
esteemed and prescribed by the ancients. Celsus expressly recommends it in
the remission of acute distempers: "ungi leniterque pertractari corpus,
etiam in acutic et recentibus niorbis opartet; us rernissione fumen,"
&c. Celsi Med. ed. Aliucloveen, p. 88. M.]
110 (return)
[ Anointing was highly valued and recommended by the ancients. Celsus specifically advises it during the easing of acute illnesses: "the body should be gently anointed and massaged, even for acute and recent ailments; it helps during recovery," &c. Celsi Med. ed. Aliucloveen, p. 88. M.]
111 (return)
[ His wife.]
111 (__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__)
[His spouse.]
113 (return)
[ Trajan.]
113 (__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__)
[Trajan.]
114 (return)
[ One of the Bithynians
employed to manage the trial. M.]
114 (return)
[ One of the Bithynians involved in managing the trial. M.]
115 (return)
[ About $28,000.]
$28,000 (__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__)
116 (return)
[ About $26,000.]
116 (__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__)
[ About $26K.]
117 (return)
[ There is a kind of
witticism in this expression, which will be lost to the mere English
reader unless he be informed that the Romans had a privilege, confirmed to
them by several laws which passed in the earlier ages of the republic, of
appealing from the decisions of the magistrates to the general assembly of
the people: and they did so in the form of words which Pomponius here
applies to a different purpose. M.]
117 (return)
[ There's a bit of cleverness in this phrase that the average English reader might miss unless they know that the Romans had a right, established by various laws in the early days of the republic, to appeal decisions from magistrates to the general assembly of the people. They did this using the wording that Pomponius here repurposes for a different context. M.]
118 (return)
[ The priests, as well as
other magistrates, exhibited public games to the people when they entered
upon their office. M.]
118 (return)
[ The priests and other officials held public games for the people when they started their term in office. M.]
119 (return)
[ A famous lawyer who
flourished in the reign of the emperor Claudius: those who followed his
opinions were said to be Cassians, or of the school of Cassius. M.]
119 (return)
[ A well-known lawyer who thrived during the rule of Emperor Claudius: those who supported his views were referred to as Cassians, or part of the Cassius school. M.]
120 (return)
[ A Stoic philosopher and
native of Tarsus. He was tutor for some time to Octavius, afterwards
Augustus, Cæsar.]
120 (return)
[ A Stoic philosopher from Tarsus. He was a tutor for a while to Octavius, who later became Augustus, Caesar.]
121 (return)
[ Balzac very prettily
observes: "Il y a des riviere: qui ne font jamais tact de bien que quand
elles se dibordent; de eneme, l'amitie n'a mealleur quo l'exces." M.]
121 (return)
[ Balzac very nicely observes: "There are rivers that only show their true nature when they overflow; similarly, friendship has no better form than excess." M.]
122 (return)
[ Persons of rank and
literature among the Romans retained in their families a domestic whose
sole business was to read to them. M.]
122 (return)
[ High-status individuals and literary figures in Rome had a household member whose only job was to read to them. M.]
123 (return)
[ It was a doctrine
maintained by the Stoics that all crimes are equal M.]
123 (return)
[ The Stoics believed that all crimes are equal M.]
124 (return)
[ About $400.]
124 (__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__)
[ About $400.]
125 (return)
[ About $600.]
$600 (__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__)
126 (return)
[ About $93.]
126 (__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__)
[$93.]
129 (return)
[ When Nerva and Trajan
received the empire. M.]
129 (return)
[ When Nerva and Trajan took over the empire. M.]
130 (return)
[ A slave could acquire
no property, and consequently was incapable bylaw of making a will. M.]
130 (return)
[ A slave couldn’t own any property, so by law, they weren’t allowed to make a will. M.]
131 (return)
[ Now called Amelia, a
town in Ombria. M.]
131 (return)
[ Now known as Amelia, a town in Ombria. M.]
133 (return)
[ A province in Anatolia,
or Asia Minor. M.]
133 (return)
[ A region in Anatolia, or Asia Minor. M.]
134 (return)
[ The performers at these
games were divided into companies, distinguished by the particular colour
of their habits; the principal of which were the white, the red, the blue,
and the green. Accordingly the spectators favoured one or the other
colour, as humour and caprice inclined them. In the reign of Justinian a
tumult arose in Constantinople, occasioned merely by a contention among
the partisans of these several colours, wherein no less than 30,000 men
lost their lives. M.]
134 (return)
[ The performers at these games were split into groups, identified by the specific color of their outfits; the main ones being white, red, blue, and green. As a result, the spectators supported one color or another, depending on their mood and whims. During Justinian's reign, a riot broke out in Constantinople, sparked only by a rivalry among the fans of these various colors, resulting in the loss of no less than 30,000 lives. M.]
135 (return)
[ Now called Castello di
Baia, in Terra di Lavoro. It was the place the Romans chose for their
winter retreat; and which they frequented upon account of its warm baths.
Some few ruins of the beautiful villas that once covered this delightful
coast still remain; and nothing can give one a higher idea of the
prodigious expense and magnificence of the Romans in their private
buildings than the manner in which some of these were situated. It appears
from this letter, as well as from several other passages in the classic
writers, that they actually projected into the sea, being erected upon
vast piles, sunk for that purpose.]
135 (return)
[Now known as Castello di Baia, in Terra di Lavoro. This was the location the Romans chose for their winter getaway, favored for its warm baths. A few ruins of the beautiful villas that once dotted this lovely coast still exist; and nothing gives a better impression of the incredible expense and grandeur of Roman private buildings than the way some of these were positioned. It’s clear from this letter, as well as from several other references in classical literature, that they actually extended into the sea, built on massive piles sunk for that purpose.]
136 (return)
[ The buskin was a kind
of high shoe worn upon the stage by the actors of tragedy, in order to
give them a more heroical elevation of stature; as the sock was something
between a shoe and stocking, it was appropriated to the comic players. M.]
136 (return)
[ The buskin was a type of high shoe worn by tragic actors on stage to give them a more heroic appearance; the sock, which was a blend of a shoe and stocking, was designated for comic performers. M.]
137 (return)
[ Lyons.]
137 (__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__)
[ Lyons.]
138 (return)
[ He was accused of
treason, under pretence that in a dramatic piece which he composed he had,
in the characters of Paris and Oenone, reflected upon Domitian for
divorcing his wife Domitia. Suet, in Vit. Domit. C. 10. M.]
138 (return)
[ He was charged with treason, claiming that in a play he wrote, he had, through the characters Paris and Oenone, criticized Domitian for divorcing his wife Domitia. Suet, in Vit. Domit. C. 10. M.]
139 (return)
[ Helvidius.]
139 (__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__)
[ Helvidius.]
140 (return)
[ Upon the accession of
Nerva to the empire, after the death of Domitian. M.]
140 (return)
[ After Nerva became emperor following Domitian's death. M.]
142 (return)
[ Our authors first wife;
of whom we have no particular account. After her death, he married his
favourite Calpurnia. M.]
142 (return)
[ Our author's first wife; we don't have any specific details about her. After she passed away, he married his favorite, Calpurnia. M.]
143 (return)
[ It is very remarkable
that, when any senator was asked his opinion in the house, he had the
privilege of speaking as long as he pleased upon any other affair before
he came to the point in question. Aul. Gell. IV. C. 10. M.]
143 (return)
[ It’s quite striking that when any senator was asked for their opinion in the house, they had the right to speak as long as they wanted about any other matter before getting to the main point. Aul. Gell. IV. C. 10. M.]
145 (return)
[ Arria and Fannia.]
145 (__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__)
[ Arria and Fannia.]
146 (return)
[ The appellation by
which the senate was addressed. M.]
146 (return)
[ The title used to address the senate. M.]
147 (return)
[ The tribunes were
magistrates chosen at first out of the body of the commons, for the
defence of their liberties, and to interpose in all grievances offered by
their superiors. Their authority extended even to the deliberations of the
senate. M.]
147 (return)
[ The tribunes were officials initially selected from the common people to protect their freedoms and to address any issues raised by their superiors. Their power even reached into the discussions of the senate. M.]
148 (return)
[ Diomed's speech to
Nestor, advising him to retire from the field of battle. Iliad, VIII. 302.
Pope. M.]
148 (return)
[ Diomed's speech to Nestor, telling him to step back from the battlefield. Iliad, VIII. 302. Pope. M.]
149 (return)
[ Nerva.]
149 (__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__)
[ Nerva.]
150 (return)
[ Domitian; by whom he
had been appointed consul elect, though he had not yet entered upon that
office. M.]
150 (return)
[ Domitian; who had appointed him consul elect, even though he had not taken that position yet. M.]
151 (return)
[ These persons were
introduced at most of the tables of the great, for the purposes of mirth
and gaiety, and constituted an essential part in all polite entertainments
among the Romans. It is surprising how soon this great people fell off
from their original severity of manners, and were tainted with the stale
refinements of foreign luxury. Livy dates the rise of this and other
unmanly delicacies from the conquest of Scipio Asiaticus over Antiochus;
that is when the Roman name had scarce subsisted above a hundred and
threescore years. "Luxuriae peregrinae origio," says he, "exercitu
Asiatico in urbem invecta est." This triumphant army caught, it seems, the
contagious softness of the people it subdued; and, on its return to Rome,
spread an infection among their countrymen, which worked by slow degrees,
till it effected their total destruction. Thus did Eastern luxury revenge
itself on Roman arms. It may be wondered that Pliny should keep his own
temper, and check the indignation of his friends at a scene which was fit
only for the dissolute revels of the infamous Trimalchio. But it will not,
perhaps, be doing justice to our author to take an estimate of his real
sentiments upon this point from the letter before us. Genitor, it seems,
was a man of strict, but rather of too austere morals for the free turn of
the age: "emendatus et gravis: paulo etiam horridior et durior ut in hac
licentia teniporuni" (Ep. III. 1. 3). But as there is a certain seasonable
accommodation to the manners of the times, not only extremely Consistent
with, but highly conducive to, the interests of virtue, Pliny, probably,
may affect a greater latitude than he in general approved, in order to
draw off his friend from that stiffness and unyielding disposition which
might prejudice those of a gayer turn against him, and consequently lessen
the beneficial influence of his virtues upon the world. M.]
151 (return)
[ These people were introduced at most of the elite gatherings for fun and entertainment, and they were an essential part of all polite social events in Rome. It's surprising how quickly this great civilization moved away from its original strict customs and became influenced by foreign luxuries. Livy marks the beginning of these unmanly pleasures as stemming from Scipio Asiaticus's victory over Antiochus; this was only a little over 160 years after the Roman name had begun. "The origin of foreign luxury was brought into the city by the Asian army," he states. This victorious army seemed to catch the easygoing habits of the people they conquered and, upon returning to Rome, spread this influence among their fellow countrymen, bringing about gradual changes that eventually led to their downfall. Thus, Eastern luxury took its revenge on Roman strength. One might question how Pliny managed to keep his composure and rein in his friends' anger at a scene that seemed only appropriate for the wild parties of the infamous Trimalchio. However, it might be unfair to judge our author's true feelings on this matter solely from this letter. Genitor appears to have been a man of strict, even overly severe morals for the carefree atmosphere of the time: "refined and serious, but a bit harsh and tough amidst this indulgence” (Ep. III. 1. 3). Yet, given the importance of adapting to the social norms of the era, which is not only consistent with but also beneficial to the interests of virtue, Pliny might take a more lenient stance than he generally supported to help his friend avoid appearing rigid and unyielding, which could alienate those with a more lighthearted nature from him, ultimately reducing the positive impact of his virtues on the world. M.]
152 (return)
[ See letter CIII.]
152 (__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__)
[ See letter CIII.]
154 (return)
[ Iliad, V. 356, speaking
of Mars. M.; Iliad, IV. 452. Pope.]
154 (return)
[ Iliad, V. 356, referencing Mars. M.; Iliad, IV. 452. Pope.]
155 (return)
[ The design of Pliny in
this letter is to justify the figurative expressions he had employed,
probably, in same oration, by instances of the same warmth of colouring
from those great masters of eloquence, Demosthenes and his rival
Aesehines. But the force of the passages which he produces from those
orators must necessarily be greatly weakened to a mere modern reader, some
of them being only hinted at, as generally well known; and the metaphors
in several of the others have either lost much of their original spirit
and boldness, by being introduced and received in Common language, or
cannot, perhaps, he preserved in an English translation. M.]
155 (return)
[ In this letter, Pliny aims to justify the figurative language he used, likely in the same speech, by referencing similar vivid expressions from the great speakers Demosthenes and his rival Aeschines. However, the impact of the quotes he provides from those orators is likely diminished for a modern reader, as some are only briefly mentioned, assuming they are well-known; and the metaphors in many others have either lost their original spirit and boldness after becoming part of everyday language, or they might not be accurately preserved in an English translation. M.]
156 (return)
[ See 1st Philippic.]
156 (__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__)
[ See 1st Philippic.]
157 (return)
[ See Demosthenes' speech
in defence of Cteisphon.]
157 (return)
[ See Demosthenes' speech in defense of Cteisphon.]
158 (return)
[ See end Olynthiac.]
158 (__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__)
[ See end Olynthiac.]
159 (return)
[ See Aesehines' speech
against Ctesiphon.]
159 (return)
[ See Aeschines' speech against Ctesiphon.]
160 (return)
[ It was a religious
ceremony practised by the ancients to pour precious ointments upon the
statues of their gods: Avitus, it is probable, imagined this dolphin was
some sea-divinity, and therefore expressed his veneration of him by the
solemnity of a sacred unction. M.]
160 (return)
[ It was a religious ceremony practiced by the ancients to pour valuable oils on the statues of their gods: Avitus likely thought this dolphin was some sea deity, and so he showed his respect for it through the ritual of a sacred anointing. M.]
161 (return)
[ The overflowing
humanity of Pliny's temper breaks out upon all occasions, but he discovers
it in nothing more strongly than by the impression which this little story
appears to have made upon him. True benevolence, indeed, extends itself
through the whole compass of existence, and sympathises with the distress
of every creature of sensation. Little minds may be apt to consider a
compassion of this inferior kind as an instance of weakness; but it is
undoubtedly the evidence of a noble nature. Homer thought it not
unbecoming the character even of a hero to melt into tears at a distress
of this sort, and has given us a most amiable and affecting picture of
Ulysses weeping over his faithful dog Argus, when he expires at his feet:
161 (return)
[ Pliny's overflowing humanity shows itself in many ways, but it’s especially evident in how much this little story affected him. True kindness really touches every aspect of existence and resonates with the pain of every sentient being. Smaller minds might see such compassion as a weakness, but it’s truly a sign of a noble character. Homer didn’t think it was unheroic for even a hero to shed tears over such a distressing situation, and he painted a beautiful and touching scene of Ulysses crying over his loyal dog Argus as he takes his last breath at his feet:
"Soft pity touch'd the mighty master's soul;
Adown his cheek the tear unbidden stole,
Stole unperceived; he turn'd his head and dry'd
The drop humane.".
(Odyss. XVII. Pope.) M.]
"Soft pity touched the great master’s soul; A tear rolled down his cheek without him realizing it, Stole unnoticed; he turned his head and dried The human drop." (Odyss. XVII. Pope.) M.]
162 (return)
[ By the regimen which
Pliny here follows, one would imagine, if he had not told us who were his
physicians, that the celebrated Celsus was in the number. That author
expressly recommends reading aloud, and afterwards walking, as beneficial
in disorders of the stomach: "Si quis stomacho laborat, leqere clare
debet; post lectionem ambulare," &c. Celsi Medic. 1. I. C. 8. M.]
162 (return)
[ Based on the regimen that Pliny describes here, one might think—if he hadn’t mentioned his doctors—that the well-known Celsus was among them. That author specifically suggests reading aloud and then taking a walk as helpful for stomach issues: "If someone is suffering from stomach problems, they should read clearly; after reading, they should walk," etc. Celsi Medic. 1. I. C. 8. M.]
CORRESPONDENCE WITH THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
I — TO THE EMPEROR TRAJAN[1001]
THE pious affection you bore, most sacred Emperor, to your august father induced you to wish it might be late ere you succeeded him. But the immortal gods thought proper to hasten the advancement of those virtues to the helm of the commonwealth which had already shared in the steerage.[1002] May you then, and the world through your means, enjoy every prosperity worthy of your reign: to which let me add my wishes, most excellent Emperor, upon a private as well as public account, that your health and spirits may be preserved firm and unbroken.
THE devoted love you had, most revered Emperor, for your esteemed father made you hope that your time to take over would come later. But the immortal gods decided it was time to elevate those virtues to leadership in the government that had already played a role in guiding it.[1002] May you, then, and the world through you, experience all the prosperity that your reign deserves: to this, I wish you, most excellent Emperor, both personally and publicly, that your health and spirits remain strong and unshaken.
II — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
You have occasioned me, Sir, an inexpressible pleasure in deeming me worthy of enjoying the privilege which the laws confer on those who have three children. For although it was from an indulgence to the request of the excellent Julius Servianus, your own most devoted servant, that you granted this favour, yet I have the satisfaction to find by the words of your rescript that you complied the more willingly as his application was in my behalf. I cannot but look upon myself as in possession of my utmost wish, after having thus received, at the beginning of your most auspicious reign, so distinguishing a mark of your peculiar favour; at the same time that it considerably heightens my desire of leaving a family behind me. I was not entirely without this desire even in the late most unhappy times: as my two marriages will induce you to believe. But the gods decreed it better, by reserving every valuable privilege to the bounty of your generous dispensations. And indeed the pleasure of being a father will be so much more acceptable to me now, that I can enjoy it in full security and happiness.
You have given me, Sir, an indescribable joy by considering me worthy of the privilege that the laws grant to those who have three children. Even though this favor was granted at the request of the esteemed Julius Servianus, your most devoted servant, I am pleased to see from your message that you were more willing to comply because his request was on my behalf. I can't help but feel that I have achieved my greatest wish after receiving such a distinctive sign of your special favor at the start of your most prosperous reign; it also greatly increases my desire to leave a family behind. I have always had this desire, even during the most troubled times, as my two marriages will show you. But the gods decided it was better by reserving every valuable privilege for the generosity of your kind gifts. Indeed, the joy of being a father will be so much more meaningful to me now that I can experience it in complete security and happiness.
III — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
THE experience, most excellent Emperor, I have had of your unbounded generosity to me, in my own person, encourages me to hope I may be yet farther obliged to it, in that of my friends. Voconius Romanus (who was my schoolfellow and companion from our earliest years) claims the first rank in that number; in consequence of which I petitioned your sacred father to promote him to the dignity of the senatorial order. But the completion of my request is reserved to your goodness; for his mother had not then advanced, in the manner the law directs, the liberal gift[1003] of four hundred thousand sesterces, which she engaged to give him, in her letter to the late emperor, your father. This, however, by my advice she has since done, having made over certain estates to him, as well as completed every other act necessary to make the conveyance valid. The difficulties therefore being removed which deferred the gratification of our wishes, it is with full confidence I venture to assure you of the worth of my friend Romanus, heightened and adorned as it is not only by liberal culture, but by his extraordinary tenderness to his parents as well. It is to that virtue he owes the present liberality of his mother; as well as his immediate succession to his late father's estate, and his adoption by his father-in-law. To these personal qualifications, the wealth and rank of his family give additional lustre; and I persuade myself it will be some further recommendation that I solicit in his behalf. Let me, then, entreat you, Sir, to enable me to congratulate Romanus on so desirable an occasion, and at the same time to indulge an eager and, I hope, laudable ambition, of having it in my power to boast that your favourable regards are extended not only to myself, but also to my friend.
THE experience, most excellent Emperor, that I have had of your incredible generosity towards me encourages me to hope I may also be able to benefit my friends. Voconius Romanus (who has been my classmate and companion since we were young) is at the top of that list; therefore, I asked your royal father to promote him to the senatorial order. However, the fulfillment of my request depends on your kindness, as his mother had not yet provided the formal gift of four hundred thousand sesterces, which she promised him in her letter to the late emperor, your father. Nonetheless, following my advice, she has since done so, transferring certain estates to him and completing all necessary actions to make the transfer valid. Now that the obstacles preventing the satisfaction of our wishes have been removed, I can confidently assure you of my friend Romanus's worth, which is not only enhanced by his excellent education but also by his remarkable care for his parents. It is thanks to that virtue that he enjoys his mother's current generosity, as well as his immediate inheritance of his late father's estate and his adoption by his father-in-law. Along with these personal qualities, the wealth and status of his family add further distinction, and I believe this will serve as an additional recommendation for him. So, I kindly urge you, Sir, to allow me to congratulate Romanus on this wonderful occasion and also to fulfill my eager, and I hope admirable, ambition of being able to boast that your kind regards extend not only to me but also to my friend.
IV — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
WHEN by your gracious indulgence, Sir, I was appointed to preside at the treasury of Saturn, I immediately renounced all engagements of the bar (as indeed I never blended business of that kind with the functions of the state), that no avocations might call off my attention from the post to which I was appointed. For this reason, when the province of Africa petitioned the senate that I might undertake their cause against Marius Priscus, I excused myself from that office; and my excuse was allowed. But when afterwards the consul elect proposed that the senate should apply to us again, and endeavour to prevail with us to yield to its inclinations, and suffer our names to be thrown into the urn, I thought it most agreeable to that tranquillity and good order which so happily distinguishes your times not to oppose (especially in so reasonable an instance) the will of that august assembly. And, as I am desirous that all my words and actions may receive the sanction of your exemplary virtue, I hope you approve of my compliance.
WHEN, with your kind indulgence, Sir, I was appointed to oversee the treasury of Saturn, I immediately stepped back from all my legal commitments (as I never mixed that type of work with my duties to the state), so that nothing would divert my attention from the position to which I was assigned. For this reason, when the province of Africa asked the senate for my help against Marius Priscus, I declined that role; and my excuse was accepted. However, when later the consul elect suggested that the senate should reach out to us again and try to persuade us to go along with their wishes and allow our names to be entered into the mix, I felt it was best to support the tranquility and good order that so nicely defines your leadership by not opposing (especially in such a reasonable matter) the wishes of that esteemed assembly. And, as I want all my words and actions to reflect your exemplary virtue, I hope you approve of my cooperation.
V — TRAJAN TO PLINY
You acted as became a good citizen and a worthy senator, by paying obedience to the just requisition of that august assembly: and I have full confidence you will faithfully discharge the business you have undertaken.
You acted like a good citizen and a worthy senator by following the rightful request of that respected assembly: and I fully trust you will carry out the responsibilities you've taken on.
VI — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
HAVING been attacked last year by a very severe and dangerous illness, I employed a physician, whose care and diligence, Sir, I cannot sufficiently reward, but by your gracious assistance. I entreat you therefore to make him a denizen of Rome; for as he is the freedman of a foreign lady, he is, consequently, himself also a foreigner. His name is Harpocras; his patroness (who has been dead a considerable time) was Thermuthis, the daughter of Theon. I further entreat you to bestow the full privileges of a Roman citizen upon Hedia and Antonia Harmeris, the freedwomen of Antonia Maximilla, a lady of great merit. It is at her desire I make this request.
LAST year, I was struck by a very serious and dangerous illness, and I hired a doctor whose care and dedication, Sir, I can’t adequately repay without your kind help. Therefore, I ask you to grant him citizenship in Rome; since he is a freedman of a foreign lady, he is also a foreigner himself. His name is Harpocras, and his patroness (who has been deceased for quite some time) was Thermuthis, the daughter of Theon. I also kindly ask you to grant full Roman citizenship rights to Hedia and Antonia Harmeris, the freedwomen of Antonia Maximilla, a woman of great merit. It is at her request that I make this appeal.
VII — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
I RETURN YOU thanks, Sir, for your ready compliance with my desire, in granting the complete privileges of a Roman to the freedwomen of a lady to whom I am allied and also for making Harpocras, my physician, a denizen of Rome. But when, agreeably to your directions, I gave in an account of his age, and estate, I was informed by those who are better skilled in the affairs than I pretend to be that, as he is an Egyptian, I ought first to have obtained for him the freedom of Alexandria before he was made free of Rome. I confess, indeed, as I was ignorant of any difference in this case between those of Egypt and other countries, I contented myself with Only acquainting you that he had been manumitted by a foreign lady long since deceased. However, it is an ignorance I cannot regret, since it affords me an opportunity of receiving from you a double obligation in favour of the same person. That I may legally therefore enjoy the benefit of your goodness, I beg you would be pleased to grant him the freedom of the city of Alexandria, as well as that of Rome. And that your gracious intentions may not meet with any further obstacles, I have taken care, as you directed, to send an account to your freedman of his age and possessions.
I want to thank you, Sir, for quickly agreeing to my request by granting full Roman privileges to the freedwomen of a lady I’m connected to and for making my doctor, Harpocras, a citizen of Rome. However, when I provided details about his age and status as you instructed, I learned from those more knowledgeable about these matters than I am that, since he is Egyptian, I should have first secured his freedom in Alexandria before making him free in Rome. I admit that I didn’t realize there was a difference in this situation between Egypt and other countries, so I only mentioned that he had been freed by a foreign lady who passed away long ago. Still, I can't regret my ignorance, as it gives me a chance to ask you for a double favor regarding this same person. Therefore, to legally benefit from your kindness, I kindly request that you grant him the freedom of the city of Alexandria, along with that of Rome. To ensure there are no further obstacles to your generous intentions, I have sent details about his age and possessions to your freedman, as you directed.
VIII — TRAJAN TO PLINY
IT is my resolution, in pursuance of the maxim observed by the princes my predecessors, to be extremely cautious in granting the freedom of the city of Alexandria: however, since you have obtained of me the freedom of Rome for your physician Harpocras, I cannot refuse you this other request. You must let me know to what district he belongs, that I may give you a letter to my friend Pompeius Planta, governor of Egypt.
It is my decision, following the principle practiced by the rulers before me, to be very careful in granting the freedom of the city of Alexandria. However, since you have received the freedom of Rome for your doctor Harpocras, I can’t deny you this other request. Please let me know which district he is from, so I can provide you with a letter to my friend Pompeius Planta, the governor of Egypt.
IX — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
I CANNOT express, Sir, the pleasure your letter gave me, by which I am informed that you have made my physician Harpocras a denizen of Alexandria; notwithstanding your resolution to follow the maxim of your predecessors in this point, by being extremely cautious in granting that privilege. Agreeably to your directions, I acquaint you that Harpocras belongs to the district of Memphis.[1004] I entreat you then, most gracious Emperor, to send me, as you promised, a letter to your friend Pompeius Planta, governor of Egypt. As I purpose (in order to have the earliest enjoyment of your presence, so ardently wished for here) to come to meet you, I beg, Sir, you would permit me to extend my journey as far as possible.
I can’t express how much your letter delighted me, Sir. I’m so glad to hear that you’ve made my doctor, Harpocras, a citizen of Alexandria, despite your intention to follow in the footsteps of your predecessors by being very careful about granting that privilege. As you instructed, I’m informing you that Harpocras is from the Memphis area. I kindly ask you, most gracious Emperor, to send me, as you promised, a letter to your friend Pompeius Planta, the governor of Egypt. Since I plan to come to meet you (which I’ve been eagerly looking forward to), I would appreciate it, Sir, if you would allow me to extend my journey as far as possible.
X — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
I WAS greatly obliged, Sir, in my late illness, to Posthumius Marinus, my physician; and I cannot make him a suitable return, but by the assistance of your wonted gracious indulgence. I entreat you then to make Chrysippus Mithridates and his wife Stratonica (who are related to Marinus) denizens of Rome. I entreat likewise the same privilege in favour of Epigonus and Mithridates, the two sons of Chrysippus; but with this restriction' that they may remain under the dominion of their father, and yet reserve their right of patronage over their own freedmen. I further entreat you to grant the full privileges of a Roman to L. Satrius Abascantius, P. Caesius Phosphorus, and Pancharia Soteris. This request I make with the consent of their patrons.[1005]
I am very grateful, Sir, for Posthumius Marinus, my doctor, during my recent illness; and I can't repay him properly without your usual kind support. I kindly ask you to make Chrysippus Mithridates and his wife Stratonica (who are related to Marinus) citizens of Rome. I also request the same privilege for Epigonus and Mithridates, the two sons of Chrysippus; but with the condition that they remain under their father's authority while still keeping their rights to their own freedmen. Additionally, I ask you to grant full Roman citizenship to L. Satrius Abascantius, P. Caesius Phosphorus, and Pancharia Soteris. I make this request with the approval of their patrons.[1005]
XI — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
AFTER your late sacred father, Sir, had, in a noble speech, as well as by his own generous example, exhorted and encouraged the public to acts of munificence, I implored his permission to remove the several statues which I had of the former emperors to my corporation, and at the same time requested permission to add his own to the number. For as I had hitherto let them remain in the respective places in which they stood when they were left to me by several different inheritances, they were dispersed in distant parts of my estate. He was pleased to grant my request, and at the same time to give me a very ample testimony of his approbation. I immediately, therefore, wrote to the decurii, to desire they would allot a piece of ground, upon which I might build a temple at my own expense; and they, as a mark of honour to my design, offered me the choice of any site I might think proper. However, my own ill-health in the first place, and later that of your father, together with the duties of that employment which you were both pleased to entrust me, prevented my proceeding with that design. But I have now, I think, a convenient opportunity of making an excursion for the purpose, as my monthly attendances ends on the 1st of September, and there are several festivals in the month following. My first request, then, is that you would permit me to adorn the temple I am going to erect with your statue, and next (in order to the execution of my design with all the expedition possible) that you would indulge me with leave of absence. It would ill become the sincerity I profess, were I to dissemble that your goodness in complying with this desire will at the same time be extremely serviceable to me in my own private affairs. It is absolutely necessary I should not defer any longer the letting of my lands in that province; for, besides that they amount to above four hundred thousand sesterces,[1006] the time for dressing the vineyards is approaching, and that business must fall upon my new tenants.[1007] The unfruitfulness of the seasons besides, for several years past, obliges me to think of making some abatements in my rents; which I cannot possibly settle unless I am present. I shall be indebted then to your indulgence, Sir, for the expedition of my work of piety, and the settlement of my own private affairs, if you will be pleased to grant me leave of absence[1008] for thirty days. I cannot give myself a shorter time, as the town and the estate of which I am speaking lie above a hundred and fifty miles from Rome.
AFTER your late revered father, Sir, had, in a noble speech and by his own generous example, urged and inspired the public to acts of generosity, I asked for his permission to move the various statues of the former emperors to my corporation and at the same time requested to add his own to the collection. Since I had allowed them to remain in the places they occupied when they were left to me by various inheritances, they were scattered across different parts of my estate. He kindly granted my request and also expressed strong support. So, I promptly wrote to the decurii, asking them to designate a piece of land where I could build a temple at my own expense; and they honored my project by offering me the choice of any site I deemed appropriate. However, my own health issues initially, followed by your father’s health concerns, along with the responsibilities of the role you both entrusted me with, hindered my progress on this project. However, I believe I now have a good opportunity to pursue it, as my monthly obligations will conclude on September 1st, and several festivals follow in the next month. Therefore, my first request is that you allow me to decorate the temple I plan to build with your statue, and secondly, to grant me leave of absence so I can carry out my plans as quickly as possible. It wouldn't be honest of me to hide that your willingness to help with this request will also greatly aid me in my personal matters. I must not delay any longer in leasing my lands in that province because, apart from being worth over four hundred thousand sesterces, the time for preparing the vineyards is approaching, and this task will fall on my new tenants. Additionally, the unfruitfulness of the seasons over the past few years forces me to consider making some reductions in my rents, which I can't settle unless I am present. Therefore, I would greatly appreciate your understanding, Sir, for allowing me the swift completion of my pious work and the settling of my own affairs if you can grant me leave of absence for thirty days. I can't allow myself less time, as the town and the estate I’m discussing are over one hundred and fifty miles from Rome.
XII — TRAJAN TO PLINY
You have given me many private reasons, and every public one, why you desire leave of absence; but I need no other than that it is your desire: and I doubt not of your returning as soon as possible to the duty of an office which so much requires your attendance. As I would not seem to check any instance of your affection towards me, I shall not oppose your erecting my statue in the place you desire; though in general I am extremely cautious in giving any encouragement to honours of that kind.
You’ve given me plenty of personal reasons, and every public one, for wanting time off; but I only need to know that it’s what you want. I trust that you’ll return as soon as you can to the responsibilities of a job that really needs your presence. Since I don’t want to appear to discourage any sign of your affection for me, I won’t oppose your plan to put up my statue in the spot you want; even though, in general, I’m very careful about encouraging that sort of honor.
XIII — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
As I am sensible, Sir, that the highest applause my actions can receive is to be distinguished by so excellent a prince, I beg you would be graciously pleased to add either the office of augur or septemvir' (both which are now vacant) to the dignity I already enjoy by your indulgence; that I may have the satisfaction of publicly offering up those vows for your prosperity, from the duty of my office, which I daily prefer to the gods in private, from the affection of my heart.
As I recognize, Sir, that the greatest recognition my actions can receive is to be acknowledged by such an outstanding prince, I kindly ask you to consider adding either the role of augur or septemvir (both of which are currently vacant) to the honor I already hold due to your kindness; so that I can have the opportunity to publicly offer my prayers for your success through the responsibilities of my position, which I daily present to the gods in private, out of my heartfelt devotion.
XIV — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
HAVING safely passed the promontory of Malea, I am arrived at Ephesus with all my retinue, notwithstanding I was detained for some time by contrary winds: a piece of information, Sir, in which, I trust, you will feel yourself concerned. I propose pursuing the remainder of my journey to the province[1010] partly in light vessels, and partly in post-chaises: for as the excessive heats will prevent my travelling altogether by land, so the Etesian winds,[1011] which are now set in, will not permit me to proceed entirely by sea.
HAVING safely passed the point of Malea, I have arrived in Ephesus with all my attendants, even though I was held up for a while by opposing winds: a piece of information, Sir, that I hope you will find relevant. I plan to continue the rest of my journey to the province[1010] partly by light boats and partly by carriages: since the intense heat will make traveling completely by land impossible, and the Etesian winds,[1011] which have now started, will not allow me to proceed entirely by sea.
XV — TRAJAN TO PLINY
YOUR information, my dear Pliny, was extremely agreeable to mc, as it does concern me to know in what manner you arrive at your province. It is a wise intention of yours to travel either by sea or land, as you shall find most convenient.
YOUR information, my dear Pliny, was very pleasing to me, as it is important for me to know how you are getting to your province. It's a smart decision on your part to travel either by sea or land, depending on what suits you best.
XVI — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
As I had a very favourable voyage to Ephesus, so in travelling by post-chaise from thence I was extremely troubled by the heats, and also by some slight feverish attacks, which kept me some time at Pergamus. From there, Sir, I got on board a coasting vessel, but, being again detained by contrary winds, did not arrive at Bithynia so soon as I had hoped. However, I have no reason to complain of this delay, since (which indeed was the most auspicious circumstance that could attend me) I reached the province in time to celebrate your birthday. I am at present engaged in examining the finances of the Prusenses,[1012] their expenses, revenues, and credits; and the farther I proceed in this work, the more I am convinced of the necessity of my enquiry. Several large sums of money are owing to the city from private persons, which they neglect to pay upon various pretences; as, on the other hand, I find the public funds are, in some instances, very unwarrantably applied. This, Sir, I write to you immediately on my arrival. I entered this province on the 17th of September,[1013] and found in it that obedience and loyalty towards yourself which you justly merit from all mankind. You will consider, Sir, whether it would not be proper to send a surveyor here; for I am inclined to think much might be deducted from what is charged by those who have the conduct of the public works if a faithful admeasurement were to be taken: at least I am of that opinion from what I have already seen of the accounts of this city, which I am now going into as fully as is possible.
I had a very smooth journey to Ephesus, but traveling by post-chaise from there, I was really bothered by the heat and some mild feverish episodes, which kept me in Pergamus for a while. After that, I got on a coastal ship, but I was again held up by unfavorable winds, so I didn’t arrive in Bithynia as quickly as I had hoped. However, I can’t complain about this delay, since reaching the province just in time to celebrate your birthday was the best thing that could have happened. Right now, I’m looking into the finances of the Prusenses—specifically their expenses, revenues, and debts; and the more I dig into this, the more I see the need for my investigation. There are several large sums owed to the city by private individuals, which they fail to pay for various reasons; meanwhile, I’ve found that the public funds are being misused in some cases. I’m writing to you about this immediately upon my arrival. I entered this province on September 17th, and I found the respect and loyalty toward you that you rightfully deserve from everyone. Please consider whether it would be a good idea to send a surveyor here; I think a lot could be saved from what’s being charged by those managing the public works if a proper measurement were taken. At least, that’s my impression based on what I’ve seen so far in the city’s accounts, which I am now examining as thoroughly as I can.
XVII — TRAJAN TO PLINY
I SHOULD have rejoiced to have heard that you arrived at Bithynia without the smallest inconvenience to yourself or any of your retinue, and that your journey from Ephesus had been as easy as your voyage to that place was favourable. For the rest, your letter informs me, my dearest Secundus, on what day you reached Bithynia. The people of that province will be convinced, I persuade myself, that I am attentive to their interest: as your conduct towards them will make it manifest that I could have chosen no more proper person to supply my place. The examination of the public accounts ought certainly to be your first employment, as they are evidently in great disorder. I have scarcely surveyors sufficient to inspect those works[1014] which I am carrying on at Rome, and in the neighbourhood; but persons of integrity and skill in this art may be found, most certainly, in every province, so that they will not fail you if only you will make due enquiry.
I should have been happy to hear that you arrived in Bithynia without any trouble for yourself or your team, and that your trip from Ephesus was as smooth as your sailing to that place was favorable. Besides that, your letter tells me, my dearest Secundus, what day you reached Bithynia. I believe the people in that province will be convinced that I am looking out for their interests, as your actions towards them will clearly show that I couldn't have picked a better person to take my place. Checking the public accounts should definitely be your top priority, as they are clearly in disarray. I barely have enough surveyors to oversee the projects I'm running in Rome and the surrounding area; however, you can find honest and skilled people in this field in every province, so you won't have any trouble if you just ask around.
XVIII — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
THOUGH I am well assured, Sir, that you, who never omit any opportunity of exerting your generosity, are not unmindful of the request I lately made to you, yet, as you have often indulged me in this manner, give me leave to remind and earnestly entreat you to bestow the praetorship now vacant upon Attius Sura. Though his ambition is extremely moderate, yet the quality of his birth, the inflexible integrity he has preserved in a very narrow fortune, and, more than all, the felicity of your times, which encourages conscious virtue to claim your favour, induce him to hope he may experience it in the present instance.
Although I'm confident, Sir, that you, who always take advantage of opportunities to show your generosity, haven't forgotten my recent request, I'd like to remind and sincerely urge you to consider Attius Sura for the currently vacant praetorship. While his ambitions are quite modest, his noble birth, unwavering integrity despite tough circumstances, and especially the fortunate times we live in— which allow virtuous individuals to seek your support—make him hopeful that he might receive your favor in this case.
XIX — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
I CONGRATULATE both you and the public, most excellent Emperor, upon the great and glorious victory you have obtained; so agreeable to the heroism of ancient Rome. May the immortal gods grant the same happy success to all your designs, that, under the administration of so many princely virtues, the splendour of the empire may shine out, not only in its former, but with additional lustre.[1015]
I CONGRATULATE both you and the public, most excellent Emperor, on the great and glorious victory you have achieved; a fitting tribute to the heroism of ancient Rome. May the immortal gods grant similar success to all your endeavors, so that, under the guidance of your many noble qualities, the brilliance of the empire may shine not only as it did before but with even greater brightness.[1015]
XX — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
Mv lieutenant, Servilius Pudens, came to Nicomedia,[1016] Sir, on the 24th of November, and by his arrival freed me, at length, from the anxiety of a very uneasy expectation.
My lieutenant, Servilius Pudens, arrived in Nicomedia, [1016] Sir, on November 24th, and his arrival finally relieved me from the stress of a long and uneasy wait.
XXI — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
YOUR generosity to me, Sir, was the occasion of uniting me to Rosianus Geminus, by the strongest ties; for he was my quaestor when I was consul. His behaviour to me during the continuance of our offices was highly respectful, and he has treated me ever since with so peculiar a regard that, besides the many obligations I owe him upon a public account, I am indebted to him for the strongest pledges of private friendship. I entreat you, then, to comply with my request for the advancement of one whom (if my recommendation has any weight) you will even distinguish with your particular favour; and whatever trust you shall repose in him, he will endeavour to show himself still deserving of an higher. But I am the more sparing in my praises of him, being persuaded his integrity, his probity, and his vigilance are well known to you, not only from those high posts which he has exercised in Rome within your immediate inspection, but from his behaviour when he served under you in the army. One thing, however, my affection for him inclines me to think, I have not yet sufficiently done; and therefore, Sir, I repeat my entreaties that you will give me the pleasure, as early as possible, of rejoicing in the advancement of my quaestor, or, in other words, of receiving an addition to my own honours, in the person of my friend.
YOUR generosity towards me, Sir, led to my close connection with Rosianus Geminus, as he was my quaestor when I was consul. He treated me with great respect throughout our time in office, and since then, he has shown me such particular kindness that, in addition to the many public debts I owe him, I also feel deeply indebted to him for his strong friendship. I kindly ask you to consider my request to support someone whom you will undoubtedly recognize with your special favor if my recommendation carries any weight. Whatever trust you place in him, he will strive to prove himself worthy of even more. However, I hold back on praising him further because I believe you already know of his integrity, honesty, and diligence, not just from the high positions he has held in Rome under your watch but also from his conduct while serving with you in the military. There is one thing, though, that my affection for him leads me to believe I haven’t adequately done; therefore, Sir, I once again urge you to grant me the joy of seeing my quaestor promoted as soon as possible, which would also add to my own honors through my friend.
XXII — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
IT is not easy, Sir, to express the joy I received when I heard you had, in compliance with the request of my mother-in-law and myself, granted Coelius Clemens the proconsulship of this province after the expiration of his consular office; as it is from thence I learn the full extent of your goodness towards me, which thus graciously extends itself through my whole family. As I dare not pretend to make an equal return to those obligations I so justly owe you, I can only have recourse to vows, and ardently implore the gods that I may not be found unworthy of those favours which you are repeatedly conferring upon me.
It's not easy, Sir, to express the joy I felt when I heard you had, at the request of my mother-in-law and me, granted Coelius Clemens the proconsulship of this province after his consular term ended. From this, I see the full extent of your kindness towards me, which graciously extends to my entire family. Since I can't pretend to repay the obligations I owe you, I can only turn to prayers and passionately ask the gods to ensure I'm worthy of the favors you continuously bestow upon me.
XXIII — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
I RECEIVED, Sir, a dispatch from your freedman, Lycormas, desiring me, if any embassy from Bosporus[1017] should come here on the way to Rome, that I would detain it till his arrival. None has yet arrived, at least in the city[1018] where I now am. But a courier passing through this place from the king of Sarmatia,[1019] I embrace the opportunity which accidentally offers itself, of sending with him the messenger which Lycormas despatched hither, that you might be informed by both their letters of what, perhaps, it may be expedient you should be acquainted with at one and the same time.
I received a message from your freedman, Lycormas, asking me to hold any embassy from Bosporus[1017] that comes here on its way to Rome until he arrives. None has arrived yet, at least not in the city[1018] where I am now. However, since a courier is passing through from the king of Sarmatia,[1019] I’m taking this chance to send the messenger that Lycormas sent here with him so that you can be informed by both their letters about everything you might need to know at the same time.
XXIV — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
I AM informed by a letter from the king of Sarmatia that there are certain affairs of which you ought to be informed as soon as possible. In order, therefore, to hasten the despatches which his courier was charged with to you, I granted him an order to make use of the public post.[1020]
I received a letter from the king of Sarmatia letting me know that there are some important matters you need to be updated on right away. To speed up the delivery that his courier was tasked with delivering to you, I gave him permission to use the public post.[1020]
XXV — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
THE ambassador from the king of Sarmatia having remained two days, by his own choice, at Nicea, I did not think it reasonable, Sir, to detain him any longer: because, in the first place, it was still uncertain when your freedman, Lycormas, would arrive, and then again some indispensable affairs require my presence in a different part of the province. Of this I thought it necessary that you should be informed, because I lately acquainted you in a letter that Lycormas had desired, if any embassy should come this way from Bosporus, that I would detain it till his arrival. But I saw no plausible pretext for keeping him back any longer, especially as the despatches from Lycormas, which (as I mentioned before) I was not willing to detain, would probably reach you some days sooner than this ambassador.
THE ambassador from the king of Sarmatia stayed for two days in Nicea by his own choice, and I thought it wouldn't be reasonable to keep him any longer, Sir. First, it was still uncertain when your freedman, Lycormas, would arrive, and secondly, I had some important matters that needed my attention elsewhere in the province. I felt it was necessary to inform you about this because I recently told you in a letter that Lycormas had requested that I hold on to any embassy that came this way from Bosporus until his arrival. However, I didn’t find a good reason to keep him any longer, especially since the dispatches from Lycormas, which I mentioned earlier and didn’t want to delay, would likely reach you a few days before this ambassador.
XXVI — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
I RECEIVED a letter, Sir, from Apuleius, a military man, belonging to the garrison at Nicomedia, informing me that one Callidromus, being arrested by Maximus and Dionysius (two bakers, to whom he had hired himself), fled for refuge to your statue;[1021] that, being brought before a magistrate, he declared he, was formerly slave to Laberius Maximus, but being taken prisoner by Susagus[1022] in Moesia,[1023] he was sent as a present from Decebalus to Pacorus, king of Parthia, in whose service he continued several years, from whence he made his escape, and came to Nicomedia. When he was examined before me, he confirmed this account, for which reason I thought it necessary to send[1024] him to you. This I should have done sooner, but I delayed his journey in order to make an inquiry concerning a seal ring which he said was taken from him, upon which was engraven the figure of Pacorus in his royal robes; I was desirous (if it could have been found) of transmitting this curiosity to you, with a small gold nugget which he says he brought from out of the Parthian mines. I have affixed my seal to it, the impression of which is a chariot drawn by four horses.
I got a letter from Apuleius, a soldier stationed in Nicomedia, telling me that a guy named Callidromus, who was arrested by two bakers named Maximus and Dionysius that he had worked for, ran for safety to your statue; that when he was brought before a magistrate, he claimed that he was formerly a slave to Laberius Maximus, but was captured by Susagus in Moesia, and sent as a gift from Decebalus to Pacorus, the king of Parthia, where he served for several years before escaping and coming to Nicomedia. When I questioned him, he confirmed this story, which is why I thought it was important to send him to you. I would have sent him sooner, but I delayed his trip to look into a seal ring he said was taken from him, which had an engraving of Pacorus in his royal robes; I was hoping to find it to send it to you, along with a small gold nugget he claims to have brought from the Parthian mines. I've sealed it with my seal, which has the image of a chariot pulled by four horses.
XXVII — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
YOUR freedman and procurator,[1025] Maximus, behaved, Sir, during all the time we were together, with great probity, attention, and diligence; as one strongly attached to your interest, and strictly observant of discipline. This testimony I willingly give him; and I give it with all the fidelity I owe you.
YOUR freedman and manager, [1025] Maximus, acted, Sir, throughout our time together, with great integrity, care, and diligence; as someone who is deeply committed to your interests and strictly follows the rules. I gladly provide this testimony on his behalf, and I do so with all the loyalty I owe you.
XXVIII — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
AFTER having experienced, Sir, in Gabius Bassus, who commands on the Pontic[1026] coast, the greatest integrity, honour, and diligence, as well as the most particular respect to myself, I cannot refuse him my best wishes and suffrage; and I give them to him with all that fidelity which is due to you. I have found him abundantly qualified by having served in the army under you; and it is owing to the advantages of your discipline that he has learned to merit your favour. The soldiery and the people here, who have had full experience of his justice and humanity, rival each other in that glorious testimony they give of his conduct, both in public and in private; and I certify this with all the sincerity you have a right to expect from me.
AFTER having seen, Sir, in Gabius Bassus, who leads on the Pontic coast, the greatest integrity, honor, and diligence, along with a deep respect for me, I can't hold back my best wishes and support for him; I offer them with all the loyalty that you deserve. I find him more than qualified since he served in the army under you, and it’s due to the benefits of your training that he has learned to earn your favor. The soldiers and the local people here, who have fully experienced his fairness and compassion, compete to praise his conduct, both in public and in private; and I affirm this with all the sincerity you can expect from me.
XXIX — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
NYMPHIDIUS Lupus,[1027] Sir, and myself, served in the army together; he commanded a body of the auxiliary forces at the same time that I was military tribune; and it was from thence my affection for him began. A long acquaintance has since mutually endeared and strengthened our friendship. For this reason I did violence to his repose, and insisted upon his attending me into Bithynia, as my assessor in council. He most readily granted me this proof of his friendship; and without any regard to the plea of age, or the ease of retirement, he shared, and continues to share, with me, the fatigue of public business. I consider his relations, therefore, as my own; in which number Nymphidius Lupus, his son, claims my particular regard. He is a youth of great merit and indefatigable application, and in every respect well worthy of so excellent a father. The early proof he gave of his merit, when he commanded a regiment of foot, shows him to be equal to any honour you may think proper to confer upon him; and it gained him the strongest testimony of approbation from those most illustrious personages, Julius Ferox and Fuscus Salinator. And I will add, Sir, that I shall rejoice in any accession of dignity which he shall receive as an occasion of particular satisfaction to myself.
NYMPHIDIUS Lupus,[1027] Sir, and I served in the army together; he was in charge of a group of auxiliary forces while I was a military tribune, and that's when my fondness for him started. A long friendship has since made our bond even stronger. Because of this, I disturbed his peace and insisted that he accompany me to Bithynia as my advisor. He gladly accepted this gesture of friendship and, without considering his age or desire for retirement, he has shared and continues to share the challenges of public work with me. I consider his family as my own, and among them, Nymphidius Lupus, his son, holds a special place in my heart. He is a young man of great talent and relentless dedication, fully deserving of such an outstanding father. The early demonstration of his abilities, when he led a foot regiment, proves he is worthy of any honor you might wish to bestow upon him, earning him the highest praise from esteemed figures like Julius Ferox and Fuscus Salinator. I will also add, Sir, that I will celebrate any new honor he receives as a personal source of joy.
XXX — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
I BEG your determination, Sir, on a point I am exceedingly doubtful about: it is whether I should place the public slaves[1028] as sentries round the prisons of the several cities in this province (as has been hitherto the practice) or employ a party of soldiers for that purpose? On the one hand, I am afraid the public slaves will not attend this duty with the fidelity they ought; and on the other, that it will engage too large a body of the soldiery. In the meanwhile I have joined a few of the latter with the former. I am apprehensive, however, there may be some danger that this method will occasion a general neglect of duty, as it will afford them a mutual opportunity of throwing the blame upon each other.
I need your guidance, Sir, on something I'm really unsure about: should I assign the public slaves[1028] as guards around the prisons in various cities in this province (like we've done before), or should I use a group of soldiers for this task? On one hand, I'm worried that the public slaves won’t take their responsibility seriously; on the other hand, I'm concerned that using soldiers will require too many of them. In the meantime, I've attached a few soldiers to work with the slaves. However, I’m worried that this approach might lead to a general lack of responsibility, as it gives them a chance to blame each other for any issues.
XXXI — TRAJAN TO PLINY
THERE is no occasion, my dearest Secundus, to draw off any soldiers in order to guard the prisons. Let us rather persevere in the ancient customs observed in this province, of employing the public slaves for that purpose; and the fidelity with which they shall execute their duty will depend much upon your care and strict discipline. It is greatly to be feared, as you observe, if the soldiers should be mixed with the public slaves, they will mutually trust to each other, and by that means grow so much the more negligent. But my principal objection is that as few soldiers as possible should be withdrawn from their standard.
THERE's no need, my dearest Secundus, to pull any soldiers to guard the prisons. Let's stick to the traditional practice in this province of using public slaves for that purpose; their reliability will greatly depend on your attention and strict discipline. As you pointed out, it's very concerning if soldiers and public slaves are mixed together, as they'll end up relying on each other and becoming more careless. But my main concern is that we should keep as few soldiers as possible away from their posts.
XXXII — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
GABIUS BASSUS, who commands upon the frontiers of Pontica, in a manner suitable to the respect and duty which he owes you, came to me, and has been with me, Sir, for several days. As far as I could observe, he is a person of great merit and worthy of your favour. I acquainted him it was your order that he should retain only ten beneficiary[1029] soldiers, two horse-guards, and one centurion out of the troops which you were pleased to assign to my command. He assured me those would not be sufficient, and that he would write to you accordingly; for which reason I thought it proper not immediately to recall his supernumeraries.
Gabius Bassus, who is in charge on the frontiers of Pontica in line with the respect and responsibilities he has towards you, came to see me and has been here for several days. From what I could see, he is a highly capable individual and deserving of your support. I informed him that it was your directive for him to keep only ten beneficiaries, two horse guards, and one centurion from the troops you assigned to my command. He assured me that would not be enough, and that he would write to you about it; therefore, I thought it best not to immediately send back his extra soldiers.
XXXIII — TRAJAN TO PLINY
I HAVE received from Gabius Bassus the letter you mention, acquainting me that the number of soldiers I had ordered him was not sufficient; and for your information I have directed my answer to be hereunto annexed. It is very material to distinguish between what the exigency of affairs requires and what an ambitious desire of extending power may think necessary. As for ourselves, the public welfare must be our only guide: accordingly it is incumbent upon us to take all possible care that the soldiers shall not be absent from their standard.
I received the letter from Gabius Bassus that you mentioned, letting me know that the number of soldiers I requested was not enough. For your reference, I have attached my response. It’s important to differentiate between what the current situation demands and what an ambitious desire for power may deem necessary. For us, the public good must be our only priority: therefore, we need to ensure that the soldiers remain with their battalions.
XXXIV — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
THE PRUSENSES, Sir, having an ancient bath which lies in a ruinous state, desire your leave to repair it; but, upon examination, I am of opinion it ought to be rebuilt. I think, therefore, you may indulge them in this request, as there will be a sufficient fund for that purpose, partly from those debts which are due from private persons to the public which I am now collecting in; and partly from what they raise among themselves towards furnishing the bath with oil, which they are willing to apply to the carrying on of this building; a work which the dignity of the city and the splendour of your times seem to demand.
THE PRUSENSES, Sir, have an old bath that is in disrepair, and they would like your permission to fix it. However, after looking into it, I believe it should be rebuilt instead. I think you can grant them this request since there will be enough funds for this project, partly from the debts that private individuals owe to the public, which I am currently collecting, and partly from what they gather among themselves to supply the bath with oil, which they are willing to use for this construction; a project that reflects the city's dignity and the greatness of your era.
XXXV — TRAJAN TO PLINY
IF the erecting a public bath will not be too great a charge upon the Prusenses, we may comply with their request; provided, however, that no new tax be levied for this purpose, nor any of those taken off which are appropriated to necessary services.
IF building a public bath won't be too much of a financial burden on the Prusenses, we can agree to their request; however, this is only if no new tax is imposed for this purpose and none of the existing taxes that are allocated for essential services are removed.
XXXVI — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
I AM assured, Sir, by your freedman and receiver-general Maximus, that it is necessary he should have a party of soldiers assigned to him, over and besides the beneficiarii, which by your orders I allotted to the very worthy Gemellinus. Those therefore which I found in his service, I thought proper he should retain, especially as he was going into Paphlagonia,[1030] in order to procure corn. For his better protection likewise, and because it was his request, I added two of the cavalry. But I beg you would inform me, in your next despatches, what method you would have me observe for the future in points of this nature.
I have been informed, Sir, by your freedman and receiver-general Maximus, that he needs to have a group of soldiers assigned to him, in addition to the beneficiarii, which I allocated to the very deserving Gemellinus as per your instructions. Therefore, I decided that the soldiers I found in his service should remain with him, especially since he was heading to Paphlagonia to gather corn. For his added protection, and because he requested it, I included two cavalry as well. However, I’d appreciate it if you could let me know in your next messages what approach you’d like me to take regarding these matters in the future.
XXX VII — TRAJAN TO PLINY
As my freedman Maximus was going upon an extraordinary commission to procure corn, I approve of your having supplied him with a file of soldiers. But when he shall return to the duties of his former post, I think two from you and as many from his coadjutor, my receiver-general Virdius Gemelhinus, will be sufficient.
As my freedman Maximus is going on a special mission to get grain, I agree with your decision to send him with a group of soldiers. However, when he returns to his previous duties, I think having two soldiers from you and the same number from his assistant, my receiver-general Virdius Gemelhinus, will be enough.
XXXVIII To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
THE very excellent young man Sempronius Caelianus, having discovered two slaves[1031] among the recruits, has sent them to me. But I deferred passing sentence till I had consulted you, the restorer and upholder of military discipline, concerning the punishment proper to be inflicted upon them. My principal doubt is that, whether, although they have taken the military oath, they are yet entered into any particular legion. I request you therefore, Sir, to inform me what course I should pursue in this affair, especially as it concerns example.
THE very excellent young man Sempronius Caelianus, having discovered two slaves[1031] among the recruits, has sent them to me. But I postponed making a decision until I consulted you, the restorer and upholder of military discipline, about the appropriate punishment to impose on them. My main doubt is whether, although they have taken the military oath, they have been assigned to any specific legion. I therefore request you, Sir, to advise me on what course I should take in this matter, especially since it relates to setting an example.
XXXIX — TRAJAN TO PLINY
SEMPRONIUS CAELINUS has acted agreeably to my orders, in sending such persons to be tried before you as appear to deserve capital punishment. It is material however, in the case in question, to inquire whether these slaves in-listed themselves voluntarily, or were chosen by the officers, or presented as substitutes for others. If they were chosen, the officer is guilty; if they are substitutes, the blame rests with those who deputed them; but if, conscious of the legal inabilities of their station, they presented themselves voluntarily, the punishment must fall upon their own heads. That they are not yet entered into any legion, makes no great difference in their case; for they ought to have given a true account of themselves immediately, upon their being approved as fit for the service.
SEMPRONIUS CAELINUS has followed my orders by sending those who seem to deserve death to be tried before you. However, it's important to determine whether these slaves volunteered, were chosen by the officers, or were sent as substitutes for others. If they were chosen, the officer is at fault; if they are substitutes, the responsibility lies with those who sent them. But if they knew the legal limitations of their situation and came forward on their own, then they should bear the consequences. The fact that they haven't joined any legion yet doesn't change much; they should have provided accurate information about themselves immediately after being deemed fit for service.
XL — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
As I have your permission, Sir, to address myself to you in all my doubts, you will not consider it beneath your dignity to descend to those humbler affairs which concern my administration of this province. I find there are in several cities, particularly those of Nicomedia and Nicea, certain persons who take upon themselves to act as public slaves, and receive an annual stipend accordingly; notwithstanding they have been condemned either to the mines, the public games,[1032] or other punishments of the like nature. Having received information of this abuse I have been long debating with myself what I ought to do. On the one hand, to send them back again to their respective punishments (many of them being now grown old, and behaving, as I am assured, with sobriety and modesty) would, I thought, be proceeding against them too severely; on the other, to retain convicted criminals in the public service, seemed not altogether decent. I considered at the same time to support these people in idleness would be an useless expense to the public; and to leave them to starve would be dangerous. I was obliged therefore to suspend the determination of this matter till I could consult with you. You will be desirous, perhaps, to be informed how it happened that these persons escaped the punishments to which they were condemned. This enquiry I have also made, but cannot return you any satisfactory answer. The decrees against them were indeed produced; but no record appears of their having ever been reversed. It was asserted, however, that these people were pardoned upon their petition to the proconsuls, or their lieutenants; which seems likely to be the truth, as it is improbable any person would have dared to set them at liberty without authority.
Since you’ve given me permission, Sir, to share my concerns with you, I hope you won’t mind discussing some of the smaller issues related to my management of this province. I've learned that in several cities, especially Nicomedia and Nicea, there are individuals who act as public servants and receive an annual salary for it, even though they've been sentenced to either the mines, public games, or similar punishments. After finding out about this situation, I’ve been thinking for a while about what should be done. On one hand, sending them back to their original punishments (many of them are now elderly and, I’m told, are behaving appropriately) seems too harsh. On the other hand, keeping convicted criminals in public roles doesn’t seem right. I also realized that financially supporting these individuals while they're not working would be a waste of public funds, and letting them go hungry would be dangerous. Therefore, I decided to hold off on making a decision until I could discuss this with you. You might want to know how these individuals avoided the punishments they were sentenced to. I’ve looked into this as well but haven't found a clear answer. The official decrees against them were indeed presented, but there’s no record of them being overturned. However, it is said that they were pardoned after appealing to the proconsuls or their deputies; this seems plausible since it's unlikely anyone would have had the audacity to free them without proper authorization.
XLI — TRAJAN TO PLINY
You will remember you were sent into Bithynia for the particular purpose of correcting those many abuses which appeared in need of reform. Now none stands more so than that of criminals who have been sentenced to punishment should not only be set at liberty (as your letter informs me) without authority; but even appointed to employments which ought only to be exercised by persons whose characters are irreproachable. Those therefore among them who have been convicted within these ten years, and whose sentence has not been reversed by proper authority, must be sent back again to their respective punishments: but where more than ten years have elapsed since their conviction, and they are grown old and infirm, let them he disposed of in such employments as are but few degrees removed from the punishments to which they were sentenced; that is, either to attend upon the public baths, cleanse the common sewers, or repair the streets and highways, the usual offices assigned to such persons.
You’ll recall that you were sent to Bithynia specifically to address the many issues that needed fixing. Right now, one of the biggest problems is that criminals who have been sentenced to punishment shouldn’t just be released (as your letter mentions) without proper authority; they shouldn’t even be given jobs that should only be held by people with spotless reputations. Therefore, those among them who have been convicted in the last ten years, and whose sentences haven’t been overturned by the right authority, must be sent back to serve their punishments. However, if more than ten years have passed since their conviction and they’ve become old and frail, they should be assigned to jobs that are only slightly less severe than their original punishments, such as working at public baths, cleaning public sewers, or repairing streets and highways, which are the usual tasks given to such individuals.
XLII — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
WHILE I was making a progress in a different part of the province, a most extensive fire broke out at Nicomedia, which not only consumed several private houses, but also two public buildings; the town-house and the temple of Isis, though they stood on contrary sides of the street. The occasion of its spreading thus far was partly owing to the violence of the wind, and partly to the indolence of the people, who, manifestly, stood idle and motionless spectators of this terrible calamity. The truth is the city was not furnished with either engines, [1033]buckets, or any single instrument suitable for extinguishing fires; which I have now however given directions to have prepared. You will consider, Sir, whether it may not be advisable to institute a company of fire-men, consisting only of one hundred and fifty members. I will take care none but those of that business shall be admitted into it, and that the privileges granted them shall not be applied to any other purpose. As this corporate body will be restricted to so small a number of members, it will be easy to keep them under proper regulation.
WHILE I was making progress in another part of the province, a massive fire broke out in Nicomedia, which not only destroyed several private homes but also two public buildings: the town hall and the temple of Isis, even though they were located on opposite sides of the street. The reason it spread so widely was partly due to the strong winds and partly because the people simply stood by, watching this awful disaster unfold without taking action. The truth is, the city didn't have any fire engines, buckets, or any other tools suitable for putting out fires; I have now given orders to prepare those. You'll want to consider, Sir, whether it might be a good idea to set up a fire department with only one hundred and fifty members. I will ensure that only those who work in this field are allowed to join, and that the privileges they receive won’t be used for anything else. Since this group will be limited to a small number, it will be easy to manage them properly.
XLIII — TRAJAN TO PLINY
You are of opinion it would be proper to establish a company of firemen in Nicomedia, agreeably to what has been practised in several other cities. But it is to be remembered that societies of this sort have greatly disturbed the peace of the province in general, and of those cities in particular. Whatever name we give them, and for whatever purposes they may be founded, they will not fail to form themselves into factious assemblies, however short their meetings may be. It will therefore be safer to provide such machines as are of service in extinguishing fires, enjoining the owners of houses to assist in preventing the mischief from spreading, and, if it should be necessary, to call in the aid of the populace.
You believe it would be appropriate to set up a fire department in Nicomedia, following what has been done in several other cities. However, it's important to note that such groups have often disrupted the peace of the province and those cities specifically. No matter what we call them or the purposes they claim to serve, they tend to turn into partisan gatherings, even if their meetings are brief. Therefore, it would be wiser to focus on providing effective tools for extinguishing fires, encouraging homeowners to help prevent the spread of damage, and if needed, to enlist the help of the general public.
XLIV — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
WE have acquitted, Sir, and renewed our annual vows[1034] for your prosperity, in which that of the empire is essentially involved, imploring the gods to grant us ever thus to pay and thus to repeat them.
WE have cleared our conscience, Sir, and renewed our annual vows[1034] for your success, which is fundamentally tied to the success of the empire, begging the gods to allow us to continue fulfilling and repeating these vows.
XLV — TRAJAN TO PLINY
I RECEIVED the satisfaction, my dearest Secundus, of being informed by your letter that you, together with the people under your government, have both discharged and renewed your vows to the immortal gods for my health and happiness.
I was pleased, my dearest Secundus, to learn from your letter that you and the people you govern have both fulfilled and renewed your promises to the immortal gods for my health and happiness.
XLVI — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
THE citizens of Nicomedia, Sir, have expended three millions three hundred and twenty-nine sesterces[1035] in building an aqueduct; but, not being able to finish it, the works are entirely falling to ruin. They made a second attempt in another place, where they laid out two millions.[1036] But this likewise is discontinued; so that, after having been at an immense charge to no purpose, they must still be at a further expense, in order to be accommodated with water. I have examined a fine spring from whence the water may be conveyed over arches (as was attempted in their first design) in such a manner that the higher as well as level and low parts of the city may be supplied. There are still remaining a very few of the old arches; and the square stones, however, employed in the former building, may be used in turning the new arches. I am of opinion part should be raised with brick, as that will be the easier and cheaper material. But that this work may not meet with the same ill-success as the former, it will be necessary to send here an architect, or some one skilled in the construction of this kind of waterworks. And I will venture to say, from the beauty and usefulness of the design, it will be an erection well worthy the splendour of your times.
The citizens of Nicomedia have spent three million three hundred twenty-nine sesterces on building an aqueduct, but since they couldn't finish it, the works are completely falling apart. They tried again in another location, where they spent two million more. But that effort has also been abandoned, so after incurring such huge costs for nothing, they still have to spend more to get access to water. I found a nice spring where the water could be channeled over arches (like they tried in their first plan) to supply both the higher areas and the rest of the city. There are still a few of the old arches left, and the square stones from the previous construction can be reused for the new arches. I believe some parts should be built with brick since it's easier and cheaper. To ensure this project doesn't fail like the previous one, it’s necessary to send an architect or someone experienced in this type of construction. I can confidently say that, due to its beauty and utility, this project would be a worthy addition to the splendor of your era.
XLVII — TRAJAN TO PLINY
CARE must be taken to supply the city of Nicomedia with water; and that business, I am well persuaded, you will perform with all the diligence you ought. But really it is no less incumbent upon you to examine by whose misconduct it has happened that such large sums have been thrown away upon this, lest they apply the money to private purposes, and the aqueduct in question, like the preceding, should be begun, and afterwards left unfinished. You will let me know the result of your inquiry.
You need to ensure that the city of Nicomedia gets the water supply it needs, and I believe you will handle that with the necessary diligence. However, it’s equally important for you to look into why so much money has been wasted on this project, so it doesn’t end up being used for personal gain, and that the aqueduct in question doesn’t end up like the last one, started but never finished. Please keep me updated on what you find out.
XLVIII — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
THE citizens of Nicea, Sir; are building a theatre, which, though it is not yet finished, has already exhausted, as I am informed (for I have not examined the account myself), above ten millions of sesterces;[1037] and, what is worse, I fear to no purpose. For either from the foundation being laid in soft, marshy ground, or that the stone itself is light and crumbling, the walls are sinking, and cracked from top to bottom. It deserves your consideration, therefore, whether it would be best to carry on this work, or entirely discontinue it, or rather, perhaps, whether it would not be most prudent absolutely to destroy it: for the buttresses and foundations by means of which it is from time to time kept up appear to me more expensive than solid. Several private persons have undertaken to build the compartment of this theatre at their own expense, some engaging to erect the portico, others the galleries over the pit:[1038] but this design cannot be executed, as the principal building which ought first to be completed is now at a stand. This city is also rebuilding, upon a far more enlarged plan, the gymnasium,[1039] which was burnt down before my arrival in the province. They have already been at some (and, I rather fear, a fruitless) expense. The structure is not only irregular and ill-proportioned, but the present architect (who, it must be owned, is a rival to the person who was first employed) asserts that the walls, although twenty-two feet[1040] in thickness, are not strong enough to support the superstructure, as the interstices are filled up with quarrystones, and the walls are not overlaid with brickwork. Also the inhabitants of Claudiopolis[1041] are sinking (I cannot call it erecting) a large public bath, upon a low spot of ground which lies at the foot of a mountain. The fund appropriated for the carrying on of this work arises from the money which those honorary members you were pleased to add to the senate paid (or, at least, are ready to pay whenever I call upon them) for their admission.[1042] As I am afraid, therefore, the public money in the city of Nicea, and (what is infinitely more valuable than any pecuniary consideration) your bounty in that of Nicopolis, should be ill applied, I must desire you to send hither an architect to inspect, not only the theatre, but the bath; in order to consider whether, after all the expense which has already been laid out, it will be better to finish them upon the present plan, or alter the one, and remove the other, in as far as may seem necessary: for otherwise we may perhaps throw away our future cost in endeavoring not to lose what we have already expended.
The citizens of Nicea are building a theater, which, even though it's not finished yet, has already cost over ten million sesterces, as I've been informed (I haven't checked the account myself); and, what's worse, I fear it may all be for nothing. Either because the foundation is laid in soft, marshy ground, or because the stone is light and crumbling, the walls are sinking and cracking from top to bottom. Therefore, it deserves your attention whether it would be best to continue with this project, completely stop it, or maybe even, perhaps, the most sensible option would be to tear it down entirely: because the buttresses and foundations that are holding it up seem to be more expensive than solid. Several private individuals have taken on the responsibility of building sections of this theater at their own expense, with some agreeing to build the portico and others the galleries over the pit; but this plan cannot be carried out, as the main building that should be completed first is currently stalled. This city is also rebuilding the gymnasium, on a much larger scale, which was burned down before I arrived in the province. They have already spent some money (and I fear, to no avail). The structure is not only irregular and poorly proportioned, but the current architect (who, it must be admitted, is a rival of the original architect) claims that the walls, despite being twenty-two feet thick, aren't strong enough to support the upper structure, as the gaps are filled with quarrystones, and the walls aren't covered with brickwork. Additionally, the people of Claudiopolis are putting in (I can't say constructing) a large public bath on a low spot of ground at the foot of a mountain. The funds for this project come from the payments made (or at least promised whenever I ask them) by those honorary members you added to the senate for their admission. Since I’m concerned that the public funds in Nicea, and even more valuable than any monetary consideration, your contributions for Nicopolis, will be poorly spent, I must ask you to send an architect here to inspect not only the theater but also the bath. They need to evaluate whether, after all the expenses already incurred, it would be better to finish them as they are, or to change one and remove the other as necessary; otherwise, we might end up wasting future funds trying to salvage what we’ve already spent.
XLIX — TRAJAN TO PLINY
You, who are upon the spot, will best be able to consider and determine what is proper to be done concerning the theatre which the inhabitants of Nicea are building; as for myself, it will be sufficient if you let me know your determination. With respect to the particular parts of this theatre which are to be raised at a private charge, you will see those engagements fulfilled when the body of the building to which they are to be annexed shall be finished. — These paltry Greeks[1043] are, I know, immoderately fond of gymnastic diversions, and therefore, perhaps, the citizens of Nicea have planned a more magnificent building for this purpose than is necessary; however, they must be content with such as will be sufficient to answer the purpose for which it is intended. I leave it entirely to you to persuade the Claudiopolitani as you shall think proper with regard to their bath, which they have placed, it seems, in a very improper situation. As there is no province that is not furnished with men of skill and ingenuity, you cannot possibly want architects; unless you think it the shortest way to procure them from Rome, when it is generally from Greece that they come to us.
You, who are on the ground, will be the best judge of what should be done about the theater that the people of Nicea are building. As for me, it’s enough if you just let me know what you decide. Regarding the parts of the theater that are to be funded privately, you will see those commitments fulfilled once the main structure, to which they will be added, is completed. — These petty Greeks[1043] are, I know, overly enthusiastic about athletic events, and maybe that’s why the citizens of Nicea have planned a more impressive building for this purpose than necessary; however, they should be content with something that meets its intended purpose. I leave it up to you to discuss with the Claudiopolitani about their bath, which seems to be in an inappropriate location. Since every province has skilled and talented people, you shouldn’t have any trouble finding architects, unless you think it’s quicker to get them from Rome, when they usually come to us from Greece.
L — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
WHEN I reflect upon the splendour of your exalted station, and the magnanimity of your spirit, nothing, I am persuaded, can be more suitable to both than to point out to you such works as are worthy of your glorious and immortal name, as being no less useful than magnificent. Bordering upon the territories of the city of Nicomedia is a most extensive lake; over which marbles, fruits, woods, and all kinds of materials, the commodities of the country, are brought over in boats up to the high-road, at little trouble and expense, but from thence are conveyed in carriages to the sea-side, at a much greater charge and with great labour. To remedy this inconvenience, many hands will be in request; but upon such an occasion they cannot be wanting: for the country, and particularly the city, is exceedingly populous; and one may assuredly hope that every person will readily engage in a work which will be of universal benefit. It only remains then to send hither, if you shall think proper, a surveyor or an architect, in order to examine whether the lake lies above the level of the sea; the engineers of this province being of opinion that the former is higher by forty cubits,[1044] I find there is in the neighbourhood of this place a large canal, which was cut by a king of this country; but as it is left unfinished, it is uncertain whether it was for the purpose of draining the adjacent fields, or making a communication between the lake and the river. It is equally doubtful too whether the death of the king, or the despair of being able to accomplish the design, prevented the completion of it. If this was the reason, I am so much the more eager and warmly desirous, for the sake of your illustrious character (and I hope you will pardon me the ambition), that you may have the glory of executing what kings could only attempt.
WHEN I think about the greatness of your high position and the generosity of your spirit, I believe there's nothing more fitting than to bring to your attention projects that are worthy of your illustrious and lasting name, being both beneficial and impressive. Close to the city of Nicomedia, there’s a vast lake; over which marbles, fruits, woods, and various materials from the region are transported by boat right to the highway, requiring little effort and cost. However, from there, they must be moved by carriage to the seaside, which is much more expensive and labor-intensive. To solve this problem, there will need to be many workers, but such support should easily be available—after all, the region, especially the city, is very populous, and we can expect that everyone will be eager to participate in a project that benefits all. It remains to send, if you think it’s appropriate, a surveyor or architect to check if the lake is higher than sea level; local engineers believe it is at least forty cubits higher.[1044] I’ve found a large canal nearby that was dug by a former king of this land, but since it was left unfinished, it’s unclear whether it was meant to drain the surrounding fields or to connect the lake and the river. It's also uncertain if the king's death or the realization of being unable to complete the project led to its abandonment. If that is the case, I am even more eager and sincerely wish, for the sake of your distinguished reputation (and I hope you'll forgive my ambition), that you might achieve what kings could only aspire to complete.
LI — TRAJAN TO PLINY
THERE is something in the scheme you propose of opening a communication between the lake and the sea, which may, perhaps, tempt me to consent. But you must first carefully examine the situation of this body of water, what quantity it contains, and from whence it is supplied; lest, by giving it an opening into the sea, it should be totally drained. You may apply to Calpurnius Macer for an engineer, and I will also send you from hence some one skilled in works of this nature.
THERE is something in your plan to connect the lake to the sea that might convince me to agree. However, you need to thoroughly assess the location of this body of water, how much it holds, and where its supply comes from; otherwise, creating an opening to the sea could completely drain it. You can reach out to Calpurnius Macer for an engineer, and I'll also send someone knowledgeable in this type of work from here.
LII — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
UPON examining into the public expenses of the city of Byzantium, which, I find, are extremely great, I was informed, Sir, that the appointments of the ambassador whom they send yearly to you with their homage, and the decree which passes in the senate upon that occasion, amount to twelve thousand sesterces.[1045] But knowing the generous maxims of your government, I thought proper to send the decree without the ambassador, that, at the same time they discharged their public duty to you, their expense incurred in the manner of paying it might be lightened. This city is likewise taxed with the sum of three thousand sesterces[1046] towards defraying the expense of an envoy, whom they annually send to compliment the governor of Moesia: this expense I have also directed to be spared. I beg, Sir, you would deign either to confirm my judgment or correct my error in these points, by acquainting me with your sentiments.
UPON examining the public expenses of the city of Byzantium, which I find to be quite high, I learned, Sir, that the costs for the ambassador they send to you each year with their tribute, along with the senate decree related to it, add up to twelve thousand sesterces.[1045] However, understanding the generous principles of your government, I thought it would be better to send the decree without the ambassador so that, while they fulfill their public obligation to you, their expenses could be reduced. This city is also responsible for paying three thousand sesterces[1046] for the expenses of an envoy they send each year to pay respects to the governor of Moesia; I have also decided to eliminate this cost. I kindly ask, Sir, that you either confirm my decision or correct my misunderstanding on these matters by sharing your thoughts with me.
LIII — TRAJAN TO PLINY
I ENTIRELY approve, my dearest Secundus, of your having excused the Byzantines that expense of twelve thousand sesterces in sending an ambassador to me. I shall esteem their duty as sufficiently paid, though I only receive the act of their senate through your hands. The governor of Moesia must likewise excuse them if they compliment him at a less expense.
I completely agree, my dear Secundus, that you should excuse the Byzantines the cost of twelve thousand sesterces for sending an ambassador to me. I will consider their obligation fulfilled, even if I only receive the act of their senate through you. The governor of Moesia should also excuse them if they honor him at a lower cost.
LIV — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
I BEG, Sir, you would settle a doubt I have concerning your diplomas;[1047] whether you think proper that those diplomas the dates of which are expired shall continue in force, and for how long? For I am apprehensive I may, through ignorance, either confirm such of these instruments as are illegal or prevent the effect of those which are necessary.
I BEG, Sir, that you would clarify a doubt I have regarding your diplomas;[1047] whether you believe it’s appropriate for those diplomas that have expired to still be valid, and for how long? I’m worried that I might, out of ignorance, either validate instruments that are illegal or hinder the effectiveness of those that are essential.
LV — TRAJAN TO PLINY
THE diplomas whose dates are expired must by no means be made use of. For which reason it is an inviolable rule with me to send new instruments of this kind into all the provinces before they are immediately wanted.
THE diplomas that have expired should not be used at all. That’s why it’s a strict rule for me to send new documents of this type to all the provinces before they are needed.
LVI — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
UPON intimating, Sir, my intention to the city of Apamea,[1048] of examining into the state of their public dues, their revenue and expenses, they told me they were all extremely willing I should inspect their accounts, but that no proconsul had ever yet looked them over, as they had a privilege (and that of a very ancient date) of administering the affairs of their corporation in the manner they thought proper. I required them to draw up a memorial of what they then asserted, which I transmit to you precisely as I received it; though I am sensible it contains several things foreign to the question. I beg you will deign to instruct me as to how I am to act in this affair, for I should be extremely sorry either to exceed or fall short of the duties of my commission.
UPON letting you know, Sir, my intention to visit the city of Apamea,[1048] to look into their public dues, revenue, and expenses, they told me they were very willing for me to review their accounts, but that no proconsul had ever done so, as they have a long-standing privilege to manage their affairs as they see fit. I asked them to prepare a formal statement of what they claimed, which I am sending to you exactly as I received it; although I know it includes several points that are not relevant to the issue. I kindly ask you to guide me on how to proceed in this matter, as I would be very sorry to either overstep or neglect the responsibilities of my commission.
LVII — TRAJAN TO PLINY
THE memorial of the Apanieans annexed to your letter has saved me the necessity of considering the reasons they suggest why the former proconsuls forbore to inspect their accounts, since they are willing to submit them to your examination. Their honest compliance deserves to be rewarded; and they may be assured the enquiry you are to make in pursuance of my orders shall be with a full reserve to their privileges.
THE memorial from the Apanieans attached to your letter has relieved me from needing to review their reasons for why the previous proconsuls chose not to look at their accounts, since they are ready to present them for your review. Their willingness to cooperate deserves to be acknowledged, and they can be confident that the investigation you will conduct per my instructions will fully respect their rights.
LVIII — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
THE Nicomedians, Sir, before my arrival in this province, had begun to build a new forum adjoining their former, in a corner of which stands an ancient temple dedicated to the mother of the gods.[1049] This fabric must either be repaired or removed, and for this reason chiefly, because it is a much lower building than that very lofty one which is now in process of erection. Upon enquiry whether this temple had been consecrated, I was informed that their ceremonies of dedication differ from ours. You will be pleased therefore, Sir, to consider whether a temple which has not been consecrated according to our rites may be removed,[1040b] consistently with the reverence due to religion: for, if there should be no objection from that quarter, the removal in every other respect would be extremely convenient.
THE Nicomedians, Sir, before I arrived in this province, had started building a new forum next to the old one, in a corner of which stands an ancient temple dedicated to the mother of the gods.[1049] This structure needs to be either repaired or taken down, mainly because it's much lower than the very tall one currently being built. When I asked whether this temple had been consecrated, I was told that their dedication ceremonies are different from ours. Therefore, Sir, please consider whether a temple that hasn't been consecrated according to our rituals can be removed,[1040b] without disrespecting religion: because if there are no objections on that front, removing it would be very convenient in every other way.
LIX — TRAJAN TO PLINY
You may without scruple, my dearest Secundus, if the situation requires it, remove the temple of the mother of the gods, from the place where it now stands, to any other spot more convenient. You need be under no difficulty with respect to the act of dedication; for the ground of a foreign city [1041b] is not capable of receiving that kind of consecration which is sanctified by our laws.
You can, without any hesitation, my dear Secundus, if necessary, move the temple of the mother of the gods from its current location to a more suitable place. You won’t face any issues regarding the act of dedication because the ground of a foreign city [1041b] can't be consecrated in the way that our laws require.
LX — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
WE have celebrated, Sir (with those sentiments of joy your virtues so justly merit), the day of your accession to the empire, which was also its preservation, imploring the gods to preserve you in health and prosperity; for upon your welfare the security and repose of the world depends. I renewed at the same time the oath of allegiance at the head of the army, which repeated it after me in the usual form, the people of the province zealously concurring in the same oath.
We have celebrated, Sir (with the joy your virtues truly deserve), the day you took charge of the empire, which also ensured its safety, asking the gods to keep you healthy and successful; because the security and peace of the world rely on your well-being. I also renewed the oath of allegiance at the head of the army, which repeated it after me in the usual way, with the people of the province enthusiastically joining in the same oath.
LXI — TRAJAN TO PLINY
YOUR letter, my dearest Secundus, was extremely acceptable, as it informed me of the zeal and affection with which you, together with the army and the provincials, solemnised the day of my accession to the empire.
YOUR letter, my dearest Secundus, was very welcome, as it let me know about the enthusiasm and support you and the army, along with the locals, showed on the day of my rise to power in the empire.
LXII — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
THE debts which we are owing to the public are, by the prudence, Sir, of your counsels, and the care of my administration, either actually paid in or now being collected: but I am afraid the money must lie unemployed. For as on one side there are few or no opportunities of purchasing land, so, on the other, one cannot meet with any person who is willing to borrow of the public [1042b] (especially at 12 per cent, interest) when they can raise money upon the same terms from private sources. You will consider then, Sir, whether it may not be advisable, in order to invite responsible persons to take this money, to lower the interest; or if that scheme should not succeed, to place it in the hands of the decurii, upon their giving sufficient security to the public. And though they should not be willing to receive it, yet as the rate of interest will be diminished, the hardship will be so much the less.
THE debts we owe to the public are, thanks to your wise advice, Sir, and the careful management of my administration, either fully paid or currently being collected. However, I fear that the money will remain unused. On one hand, there are few, if any, opportunities to purchase land, and on the other, there aren't any individuals willing to borrow from the public [1042b] (especially at 12 percent interest) when they can get the same terms from private sources. So, Sir, please consider whether it might be wise to lower the interest rate to attract responsible borrowers for this money; or if that approach fails, to hand it over to the decurii, provided they offer adequate security to the public. And even if they are not interested, the reduced interest rate would make it less of a burden.
LXIII — TRAJAN TO PLINY
I AGREE with you, my dear Pliny, that there seems to be no other method of facilitating the placing out of the public money than by lowering the interest; the measure of which you will determine according to the number of the borrowers. But to compel persons to receive it who are not disposed to do so, when possibly they themselves may have no opportunity of employing it, is by no means consistent with the justice of my government.
I agree with you, my dear Pliny, that there doesn’t seem to be any other way to make it easier to distribute public funds than by lowering the interest rate; you can decide how much based on the number of borrowers. However, forcing people to take it when they’re not willing, especially if they may have no way to use it, is definitely not fair for my government.
LXIV — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
I RETURN you my warmest acknowledgments, Sir, that, among the many important occupations in which you are engaged you have condescended to be my guide on those points on which I have consulted you: a favour which I must now again beseech you to grant me. A certain person presented himself with a complaint that his adversaries, who had been banished for three years by the illustrious Servilius Calvus, still remained in the province: they, on the contrary, affirmed that Calvus had revoked their sentence, and produced his edict to that effect. I thought it necessary therefore to refer the whole affair to you. For as I have your express orders not to restore any person who has been sentenced to banishment either by myself or others so I have no directions with respect to those who, having been banished by some of my predecessors in this government, have by them also been restored. It is necessary for me, therefore, to beg you would inform me, Sir, how I am to act with regard to the above- mentioned persons, as well as others, who, after having been condemned to perpetual banishment, have been found in the province without permission to return; for cases of that nature have likewise fallen under my cognisance. A person was brought before me who had been sentenced to perpetual exile by the proconsul Julius Bassus, but knowing that the acts of Bassus, during his administration, had been rescinded, and that the senate had granted leave to all those who had fallen under his condemnation of appealing from his decision at any time within the space of two years, I enquired of this man whether he had, accordingly, stated his case to the proconsul. He replied he had not. I beg then you would inform me whether you would have him sent back into exile or whether you think some more severe and what kind of punishment should be inflicted upon him, and such others who may hereafter be found under the same circumstances. I have annexed to my letter the decree of Calvus, and the edict by which the persons above-mentioned were restored, as also the decree of Bassus.
I want to express my deepest thanks, Sir, for taking the time to guide me on the matters I’ve consulted you about, despite your many important commitments. I must now ask for your assistance once again. A certain individual has come to me with a complaint that his opponents, who were banished for three years by the notable Servilius Calvus, are still in the province. They, however, claim that Calvus revoked their banishment and presented his edict as proof. I felt it necessary to bring this whole situation to you. I have clear instructions not to allow anyone who has been sentenced to banishment, whether by me or others, to return. However, I do not have guidance regarding those who were banished by former governors but were later reinstated by them. Therefore, I kindly ask you to let me know how to proceed with the individuals mentioned above, as well as others who, after being condemned to permanent banishment, have been found in the province without permission to return. I have faced similar cases as well. One person appeared before me who had been sentenced to permanent exile by Proconsul Julius Bassus. Knowing that Bassus's actions had been overturned and that the senate had allowed anyone condemned by him to appeal his decision within two years, I asked this man if he had stated his case to the proconsul. He said he had not. Please inform me whether you want him to be sent back into exile or if you think a harsher punishment should be imposed on him and others who may be in the same situation in the future. I have attached to my letter the decree from Calvus, the edict by which the individuals mentioned were reinstated, and also the decree from Bassus.
LXV — TRAJAN TO PLINY
I WILL let you know my determination concerning those exiles which were banished for three years by the proconsul P. Servilius Calvus, and soon afterwards restored to the province by his edict, when I shall have informed myself from him of the reasons of this proceeding. With respect to that person who was sentenced to perpetual banishment by Julius Bassus, yet continued to remain in the province, without making his appeal if he thought himself aggrieved (though he had two years given him for that purpose), I would have sent in chains to my praetorian prefects: [1043b] for, only to remand him back to a punishment which he has contumaciously eluded will by no means be a sufficient punishment.
I will update you on my decision regarding the exiles who were banished for three years by the proconsul P. Servilius Calvus and were later reinstated to the province by his order, once I learn from him about the reasons behind this action. As for the individual who was sentenced to permanent banishment by Julius Bassus but continued to stay in the province without appealing, despite having been given two years to do so, I would have sent him in chains to my praetorian prefects: [1043b] because simply sending him back to a punishment he has willfully avoided isn't adequate.
LXVI — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
WHEN I cited the judges, Sir, to attend me at a sessions [1044b] which I was going to hold, Flavius Archippus claimed the privilege of being excused as exercising the profession of a philosopher. [1045b] It was alleged by some who were present that he ought not only to be excused from that office, but even struck out of the rolls of judges, and remanded back to the punishment from which he had escaped, by breaking his chains. At the same time a sentence of the proconsul Velius Paullus was read, by which it appeared that Archippus had been condemned to the mines for forgery. He had nothing to produce in proof of this sentence having ever been reversed. He alleged, however, in favour of his restitution, a petition which he presented to Domitian, together with a letter from that prince, and a decree of the Prusensians in his honour. To these he subjoined a letter which he had received from you; as also an edict and a letter of your august father confirming the grants which had been made to him by Domitian. For these reasons, notwithstandng crimes of so atrocious a nature were laid to his charge, I did not think proper to determine anything concerning him, without first consulting with you, as it is an affair which seems to merit your particular decision. I have transmitted to you, with this letter, the several allegations on both sides.
WHEN I summoned the judges, Sir, to meet me for a session [1044b] I was about to hold, Flavius Archippus requested to be excused, claiming the privilege of being a philosopher. [1045b] Some people present argued that he should not only be excused from this role but also removed from the judges' list and sent back to the punishment he had escaped by breaking his chains. At the same time, a sentence from the proconsul Velius Paullus was read, showing that Archippus had been sentenced to the mines for forgery. He had no evidence that this sentence had ever been overturned. However, he claimed in support of his reinstatement a petition he submitted to Domitian, along with a letter from that emperor and a decree from the Prusensians in his honor. He also attached a letter he received from you, as well as an edict and a letter from your esteemed father confirming the benefits granted to him by Domitian. For these reasons, despite the serious crimes attributed to him, I did not think it right to make any decision about him without first consulting you, as this matter seems to require your specific judgment. I have sent you, along with this letter, the various claims from both sides.
DOMITIAN'S LETTER TO TERENTIUS MAXIMUS
Domitian's Letter to Terentius Maximus
"Flavius Archippus the philosopher has prevailed with me to give an order that six hundred thousand sesterces [1046b] be laid out in the purchase of an estate for the support of him and his family, in the neighbourhood of Prusias, [1047b] his native country. Let this be accordingly done; and place that sum to the account of my benefactions."
FROM THE SAME TO L. APPIUS MAXIMUS
FROM THE SAME TO L. APPIUS MAXIMUS
"I recommend, my dear Maximus, to your protection that worthy philosopher Archippus; a person whose moral conduct is agreeable to the principles of the philosophy he professes; and I would have you pay entire regard to whatever he shall reasonably request."
"I suggest, my dear Maximus, that you look after the esteemed philosopher Archippus; someone whose moral behavior aligns with the principles of the philosophy he teaches; and I would like you to fully consider any reasonable requests he may make."
THE EDICT OF THE EMPEROR NERVA
THE EDICT OF THE EMPEROR NERVA
"There are some points no doubt, Quirites, concerning which the happy tenour of my government is a sufficient indication of my sentiments; and a good prince need not give an express declaration in matters wherein his intention cannot but be clearly understood. Every citizen in the empire will bear me witness that I gave up my private repose to the security of the public, and in order that I might have the pleasure of dispensing new bounties of my own, as also of confirming those which had been granted by predecessors. But lest the memory of him [1048b] who conferred these grants, or the diffidence of those who received them, should occasion any interruption to the public joy, I thought it as necessary as it is agreeable to me to obviate these suspicions by assuring them of my indulgence. I do not wish any man who has obtained a private or a public privilege from one of the former emperors to imagine he is to be deprived of such a privilege, merely that he may owe the restoration of it to me; nor need any who have received the gratifications of imperial favour petition me to have them confirmed. Rather let them leave me at leisure for conferring new grants, under the assurance that I am only to be solicited for those bounties which have not already been obtained, and which the happier fortune of the empire has put it in my power to bestow."
"There are definitely some points, citizens, where the smooth running of my government shows what I believe; and a good leader doesn’t need to state explicitly what is already clear. Every citizen in the empire can attest that I sacrificed my personal comfort for the sake of public safety, so that I could enjoy giving out new benefits myself, as well as affirming those that were provided by my predecessors. But to ensure that the memory of him [1048b] who granted these benefits, or the hesitation of those who received them, doesn’t dampen the public happiness, I found it necessary and pleasing to clear up these doubts by reassuring them of my generosity. I don’t want anyone who received a privilege from previous emperors to think they would lose it just because I might restore it; nor should anyone who has been favored by imperial grants feel the need to ask me for confirmation. Instead, let them allow me the freedom to give out new benefits, knowing that I should only be approached for those that haven’t already been granted, and which the improved fortune of the empire allows me to give."
FROM THE SAME TO TULLIUS JUSTUS
FROM THE SAME TO TULLIUS JUSTUS
"Since I have publicly decreed that all acts begun and accomplished in former reigns should be confirmed, the letters of Domitian must remain valid."
"Since I've publicly announced that all actions started and completed in previous reigns should be upheld, the letters of Domitian must stay valid."
LXVII — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
FLAVIUS ARCHIPPUS has conjured me, by all my vows for your prosperity, and by your immortal glory, that I would transmit to you the memorial which he presented to me. I could not refuse a request couched in such terms; however, I acquainted the prosecutrix with this my intention, from whom I have also received a memorial on her part. I have annexed them both to this letter; that by hearing, as it were, each party, you may the better be enabled to decide.
FLAVIUS ARCHIPPUS has summoned me, through all my commitments to your success and your lasting fame, to share the memorial he presented to me. I couldn't turn down a request expressed in such a way; however, I informed the prosecutrix of my intention, and I've also received a memorial from her. I've attached both to this letter so that by considering each party's perspective, you can make a more informed decision.
LX VIII — TRAJAN TO PLINY
IT is possible that Domitian might have been ignorant of the circumstances in which Archippus was when he wrote the letter so much to that philosopher's credit. However, it is more agreeable to my disposition to suppose that prince designed he should be restored to his former situation; especially since he so often had the honour of a statue decreed to him by those who could not be ignorant of the sentence pronounced against him by the proconsul Paullus. But I do not mean to intimate, my dear Pliny, that if any new charge should be brought against him, you should be the less disposed to hear his accusers. I have examined the memorial of his prosecutrix, Furia Prima, as well as that of Archippus himself, which you sent with your last letter.
It's possible that Domitian didn't know the circumstances surrounding Archippus when he wrote that letter praising him. However, I actually prefer to think that the prince intended for him to be restored to his previous position, especially since he often had the honor of a statue awarded to him by those who couldn't have been ignorant of the sentence passed against him by the proconsul Paullus. But I don’t mean to imply, my dear Pliny, that if any new accusation comes up against him, you should be less willing to listen to his accusers. I've reviewed the statement from his accuser, Furia Prima, as well as Archippus's response, which you sent with your last letter.
LXIX — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
THE apprehensions you express, Sir, that the lake will be in danger of being entirely drained if a communication should be opened between that and the sea, by means of the river, are agreeable to that prudence and forethought you so eminently possess; but I think I have found a method to obviate that inconvenience. A channel may be cut from the lake up to the river so as not quite to join them, leaving just a narrow strip of land between, preserving the lake; by this means it will not only be kept quite separate from the river, but all the same purposes will be answered as if they were united: for it will be extremely easy to convey over that little intervening ridge whatever goods shall be brought down by the canal. This is a scheme which may be pursued, if it should be found necessary; but I hope there will be no occasion to have recourse to it. For, in the first place, the lake itself is pretty deep; and in the next, by damming up the river which runs from it on the opposite side and turning its course as we shall find expedient, the same quantity of water may be retained. Besides, there are several brooks near the place where it is proposed the channel shall be cut which, if skilfully collected, will supply the lake with water in proportion to what it shall discharge. But if you should rather approve of the channel's being extended farther and cut narrower, and so conveyed directly into the sea, without running into the river, the reflux of the tide will return whatever it receives from the lake. After all, if the nature of the place should not admit of any of these schemes, the course of the water may be checked by sluices. These, however, and many other particulars, will be more skilfully examined into by the engineer, whom, indeed, Sir, you ought to send, according to your promise, for it is an enterprise well worthy of your attention and magnificence. In the meanwhile, I have written to the illustrious Calpurnius Macer, in pursuance of your orders, to send me the most skilful engineer to be had.
The concerns you have, Sir, about the lake potentially being completely drained if a connection is made between it and the sea through the river, reflect the prudence and foresight you are known for; however, I believe I've developed a solution to avoid that issue. A channel can be created from the lake to the river without fully connecting them, leaving a narrow strip of land in between to preserve the lake; this way, it will remain completely separate from the river while still achieving all the same functions as if they were connected. It will be easy to transport goods over that small ridge from the canal. This is a plan that can be undertaken if necessary, but I hope there won’t be a need for it. Firstly, the lake itself is quite deep, and secondly, by damming the river on the opposite side and redirecting its flow as needed, the same amount of water can be retained. Additionally, there are several streams near the location where the channel will be cut that can be skillfully collected to supply the lake with water in proportion to what it discharges. However, if you prefer the channel to be extended further and narrower, passing directly into the sea without entering the river, the tide will return whatever it receives from the lake. Ultimately, if the nature of the site doesn’t allow for any of these plans, the water flow can be managed with sluices. These details and others will be more adeptly assessed by the engineer, whom you should send, as you promised, because this is a project worthy of your attention and generosity. Meanwhile, I have reached out to the esteemed Calpurnius Macer, as per your orders, to have the most skilled engineer available sent to me.
LXX — TRAJAN TO PLINY
IT is evident, my dearest Secundus, that neither your prudence nor your care has been wanting in this affair of the lake, since, in order to render it of more general benefit, you have provided so many expedients against the danger of its being drained. I leave it to your own choice to pursue whichever of the schemes shall be thought most proper. Calpurnius Macer will furnish you, no doubt, with an engineer, as artificers of that kind are not wanting in his province.
It’s clear, my dearest Secundus, that you’ve been both careful and thoughtful about the lake situation, since you’ve put so many plans in place to prevent it from being drained for the greater good. I’ll leave it up to you to decide which of the options seems best. Calpurnius Macer will surely provide you with an engineer, as there’s no shortage of skilled workers in his area.
LXXI — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
A VERY considerable question, Sir, in which the whole province is interested, has been lately started, concerning the state [1049b] and maintenance of deserted children.[1050] I have examined the constitutions of former princes upon this head, but not finding anything in them relating, either in general or particular, to the Bithynians, I thought it necessary to apply to you for your directions: for in a point which seems to require the special interposition of your authority, I could not content myself with following precedents. An edict of the emperor Augustus (as pretended) was read to me, concerning one Annia; as also a letter from Vespasian to the Lacedaemonians, and another from Titus to the same, with one likewise from him to the Achaeans, also some letters from Domitian, directed to the proconsuls Avidius Nigrinus and Armenius Brocchus, together with one from that prince to the Lacedaemonians: but I have not transmitted them to you, as they were not correct (and some of them too of doubtful authenticity), and also because I imagine the true copies are preserved in your archives.
A significant question, Sir, that affects the entire province has recently come up regarding the condition and care of abandoned children. I’ve looked into the constitutions of past rulers on this matter, but since I didn’t find anything related, either generally or specifically, to the Bithynians, I thought it was important to seek your guidance. In a matter that seems to need your direct involvement, I couldn’t rely solely on previous cases. I was shown an edict supposedly from Emperor Augustus regarding one Annia, as well as a letter from Vespasian to the Lacedaemonians, another from Titus to the same group, and one from him to the Achaeans, along with several letters from Domitian addressed to proconsuls Avidius Nigrinus and Armenius Brocchus, and one from him to the Lacedaemonians. However, I haven’t sent these to you because they weren’t accurate (and some are questionable in terms of authenticity), and I believe the genuine copies are kept in your archives.
LXXII TRAJAN TO PLINY
THE question concerning children who were exposed by their parents, and afterwards preserved by others, and educated in a state of servitude, though born free, has been frequently discussed; but I do not find in the constitutions of the princes my predecessors any general regulation upon this head, extending to all the provinces. There are, indeed, some rescripts of Domitian to Avidius Nigrinus and Armenhis Brocchus, which ought to be observed; but Bithynia is not comprehended in the provinces therein mentioned. I am of opinion therefore that the claims of those who assert their right of freedom upon this footing should be allowed; without obliging them to purchase their liberty by repaying the money advanced for their maintenance.[1051]
THE question about children who were abandoned by their parents, then taken in and raised by others while living in a state of servitude, even though they were born free, has been often debated; however, I cannot find any general regulations from the constitutions of my predecessor princes that apply to all provinces. There are indeed some rulings from Domitian to Avidius Nigrinus and Armenhis Brocchus that should be followed, but Bithynia is not included in the provinces mentioned. Therefore, I believe that the claims of those who argue for their right to freedom on this basis should be recognized, without requiring them to buy their freedom by paying back the costs of their upbringing. [1051]
LXXIII — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
HAVING been petitioned by some persons to grant them the liberty (agreeably to the practice of former proconsuls) of removing the relics of their deceased relations, upon the suggestion that either their monuments were decayed by age or ruined by the inundations of the river, or for other reasons of the same kind, I thought proper, Sir, knowing that in cases of this nature it is usual at Rome to apply to the college of priests, to consult you, who are the sovereign of that sacred order, as to how you would have me act in this case.
Having been approached by some people to allow them the right (in line with what previous proconsuls have done) to move the remains of their deceased loved ones, due to suggestions that either their tombs have deteriorated with age or been damaged by flooding, or for other similar reasons, I felt it was appropriate, Sir, knowing that in such matters it is customary in Rome to consult the college of priests, to ask you, who lead that sacred order, how you would like me to proceed in this situation.
LXX IV — TRAJAN TO PLINY
IT will be a hardship upon the provincials to oblige them to address themselves to the college of priests whenever they may have just reasons for removing the ashes of their ancestors. In this case, therefore, it will be better you should follow the example of the governors your predecessors, and grant or deny them this liberty as you shall see reasonable.
It will be difficult for the locals to be required to go through the college of priests whenever they have valid reasons for moving their ancestors' ashes. In this situation, it would be better for you to follow the example of your predecessors and grant or deny them this freedom as you see fit.
LXXV — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
I HAVE enquired, Sir, at Prusa, for a proper place on which to erect the bath you were pleased to allow that city to build, and I have found one to my satisfaction. It is upon the site where formerly, I am told, stood a very beautiful mansion, but which is now entirely fallen into ruins. By fixing upon that spot, we shall gain the advantage of ornamenting the city in a part which at present is exceedingly deformed, and enlarging it at the same time without removing any of the buildings; only restoring one which is fallen to decay. There are some circumstances attending this structure of which it is proper I should inform you. Claudius Polyaenus bequeathed it to the emperor Claudius Cæsar, with directions that a temple should be erected to that prince in a colonnade-court, and that the remainder of the house should be let in apartments. The city received the rents for a considerable time; but partly by its having been plundered, and partly by its being neglected, the whole house, colonnade-court, and all, is entirely gone to ruin, and there is now scarcely anything remaining of it but the ground upon which it stood. If you shall think proper, Sir, either to give or sell this spot of ground to the city, as it lies so conveniently for their purpose, they will receive it as a most particular favour. I intend, with your permission, to place the bath in the vacant area, and to extend a range of porticoes with seats in that part where the former edifice stood. This new erection I purpose dedicating to you, by whose bounty it will rise with all the elegance and magnificence worthy of your glorious name. I have sent you a copy of the will, by which, though it is inaccurate, you will see that Polyaenus left several articles of ornament for the embellishment of this house; but these also are lost with all the rest: I will, however, make the strictest enquiry after them that I am able.
I’ve checked, Sir, with Prusa about a suitable location to build the bath you kindly approved for the city, and I found one that works well. It’s on the site where there used to be a beautiful mansion, but now it’s completely in ruins. By choosing this spot, we can beautify a part of the city that’s currently very unattractive and expand it without demolishing any buildings—just restoring one that’s in disrepair. There are some details about this structure that I should share with you. Claudius Polyaenus left it to Emperor Claudius Caesar with instructions to build a temple for him in a colonnade court, and the rest of the house was to be rented out. The city received rent for a long time, but due to it being plundered and neglected, the entire house, colonnade court, and everything has fallen into ruin, leaving almost nothing but the ground it stood on. If you think it’s appropriate, Sir, to give or sell this piece of land to the city, since it’s so convenient for their use, they would consider it a great favor. With your permission, I plan to place the bath in the empty area and add a line of porticoes with seats where the former building used to be. I intend to dedicate this new structure to you, as it will be built with all the elegance and grandeur befitting your illustrious name. I’ve sent you a copy of the will, which, although it’s not precise, shows that Polyaenus left several decorative items for this house; unfortunately, these are also lost like everything else. I will, however, look into finding them as thoroughly as I can.
LXXVI — TRAJAN TO PLINY
1 HAVE no objection to the Prusenses making use of the ruined court and house, which you say are untenanted, for the erection of their bath. But it is not sufficiently clear by your letter whether the temple in the centre of the colonnade-court was actually dedicated to Claudius or not; for if it were, it is still consecrated ground.[1052]
1 I have no problem with the Prusenses using the ruined court and house, which you mentioned are unoccupied, to build their bath. However, your letter doesn't make it clear whether the temple in the middle of the colonnade-court was actually dedicated to Claudius; if it was, that area is still considered sacred ground.[1052]
LXXVII — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
I HAVE been pressed by some persons to take upon myself the enquiry of causes relating to claims of freedom by birth-right, agreeably to a rescript of Domitian's to Minucius Rufus, and the practice of former proconsuls. But upon casting my eye on the decree of the senate concerning cases of this nature, I find it only mentions the proconsular provinces.[1053] I have therefore, Sir, deferred interfering in this affair, till I shall receive your instructions as to how you would have me proceed.
I have been urged by some people to investigate the reasons behind claims of freedom by birthright, in accordance with a directive from Domitian to Minucius Rufus and the actions of previous proconsuls. However, when I look at the Senate's decree regarding these cases, I see that it only references the proconsular provinces.[1053] Therefore, Sir, I have postponed my involvement in this matter until I receive your guidance on how you would like me to proceed.
LXXVIII — TRAJAN TO PLINY
IF you will send me the decree of the senate, which occasioned your doubt, I shall be able to judge whether it is proper you should take upon yourself the enquiry of causes relating to claims of freedom by birth-right.
IF you send me the senate's decree that caused your doubt, I’ll be able to determine whether it’s appropriate for you to undertake the investigation of cases regarding freedom claims based on birth-right.
LXXIX — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
JULIUS LARGUS, of Ponus[1054] (a person whom I never saw nor indeed ever heard his name till lately), in confidence, Sir, of your distinguishing judgment in my favour, has entrusted me with the execution of the last instance of his loyalty towards you. He has left me, by his will, his estate upon trust, in the first place to receive out of it fifty thousand sesterces[1055] for my own use, and to apply the remainder for the benefit of the cities of Heraclea and Tios,[1056] either by erecting some public edifice dedicated to your honour or instituting athletic games, according as I shall judge proper. These games are to be celebrated every five years, and to be called Trajan's games. My principal reason for acquainting you with this bequest is that I may receive your directions which of the respective alternatives to choose.
JULIUS LARGUS, from Ponus[1054] (a person I've never met or even heard of until recently), has confidently entrusted me, Sir, with carrying out the last act of loyalty he showed towards you. In his will, he has left me his estate on the condition that I first take fifty thousand sesterces[1055] for myself, and then use the rest for the benefit of the cities of Heraclea and Tios[1056], either by building a public structure in your honor or setting up athletic games, based on what I think is best. These games are to take place every five years and will be called Trajan's games. The main reason I'm letting you know about this bequest is so I can get your advice on which option to choose.
LXXX — TRAJAN TO PLINY
By the prudent choice Julius Largus has made of a trustee, one would imagine he had known you perfectly well. You will consider then what will most tend to perpetuate his memory, under the circumstances of the respective cities, and make your option accordingly.
By the wise choice that Julius Largus has made for a trustee, one would think he knew you quite well. So, consider what would best honor his memory, given the situation in each city, and choose accordingly.
LXXXI — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
You acted agreeably, Sir, to your usual prudence and foresight in ordering the illustrious Calpurnius Macer to send a legionary centurion to Byzantium: you will consider whether the city of Juliopolis' does not deserve the same regard, which, though it is extremely small, sustains very great burthens, and is so much the more exposed to injuries as it is less capable of resisting them. Whatever benefits you shall confer upon that city will in effect be advantageous to the whole country; for it is situated at the entrance of Bithynia, and is the town through which all who travel into this province generally pass.
You acted wisely, Sir, as you always do, by telling Calpurnius Macer to send a centurion to Byzantium. You should think about whether the city of Juliopolis deserves the same attention. Even though it’s very small, it bears significant burdens and is more vulnerable to damage because it has less ability to defend itself. Any benefits you provide to that city will ultimately be beneficial for the entire region, as it’s located at the entrance of Bithynia and is the place where most travelers pass through to reach this province.
LXXXII — TRAJAN TO PLINY
THE circumstances of the city of Byzantium are such, by the great confluence of strangers to it, that I held it incumbent upon me, and consistent with the customs of former reigns, to send thither a legionary centurion's guard to preserve the privileges of that state. But if we should distinguish the city of Juliopolis[1057] in the same way, it will be introducing a precedent for many others, whose claim to that favour will rise in proportion to their want of strength. I have so much confidence, however, in your administration as to believe you will omit no method of protecting them from injuries. If any persons shall act contrary to the discipline I have enjoined, let them be instantly corrected; or if they happen to be soldiers, and their crimes should be too enormous for immediate chastisement, I would have them sent to their officers, with an account of the particular misdemeanour you shall find they have been guilty of; but if the delinquents should be on their way to Rome, inform me by letter.
THE circumstances of the city of Byzantium are such, due to the large number of strangers coming there, that I felt it necessary, in line with the customs of previous reigns, to send a legionary centurion's guard to maintain the privileges of that state. However, if we treat the city of Juliopolis[1057] in the same manner, it would set a precedent for many others, whose claims to that favor would increase based on their lack of strength. I have a lot of confidence in your administration and believe you will use every method to protect them from harm. If anyone acts contrary to the rules I have set, they should be corrected immediately; or if they are soldiers and their offenses are too serious for immediate punishment, I want them sent to their officers, along with a report of the specific misconduct you find they have committed; but if the offenders are on their way to Rome, please inform me by letter.
LXXXIII — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
BY a law of Pompey's[1058] concerning the Bithynians, it is enacted, Sir, that no person shall be a magistrate, or be chosen into the senate, under the age of thirty. By the same law it is declared that those who have exercised the office of magistrate are qualified to be members of the senate. Subsequent to this law, the emperor Augustus published an edict, by which it was ordained that persons of the age of twenty-two should be capable of being magistrates. The question therefore is whether those who have exercised the functions of a magistrate before the age of thirty may be legally chosen into the senate by the censors?[1059] And if so, whether, by the same kind of construction, they may be elected senators, at the age which entitles them to be magistrates, though they should not actually have borne any office? A custom which, it seems, has hitherto been observed, and is said to be expedient, as it is rather better that persons of noble birth should be admitted into the senate than those of plebeian rank. The censors elect having desired my sentiments upon this point, I was of opinion that both by the law of Pompey and the edict of Augustus those who had exercised the magistracy before the age of thirty might be chosen into the senate; and for this reason, because the edict allows the office of magistrate to be undertaken before thirty; and the law declares that whoever has been a magistrate should be eligible for the senate. But with respect to those who never discharged any office in the state, though they were of the age required for that purpose, I had some doubt: and therefore, Sir, I apply to you for your directions. I have subjoined to this letter the heads of the law, together with the edict of Augustus.
BY a law of Pompey's concerning the Bithynians, it is stated, Sir, that no one under the age of thirty can be a magistrate or be elected to the senate. This law also declares that those who have served as magistrates are qualified to be members of the senate. Following this law, Emperor Augustus issued an edict that allows individuals at the age of twenty-two to be eligible for the role of magistrate. The question then is whether those who held the position of magistrate before turning thirty can be legally chosen for the senate by the censors. And if so, whether, by the same reasoning, they can be elected senators at the age that qualifies them to be magistrates, even if they have not actually held any office. A custom has been followed, it seems, which suggests it is better for individuals of noble birth to be included in the senate rather than those of lower social class. The censors elect, who requested my opinion on this matter, brought me to the conclusion that both the law of Pompey and the edict of Augustus permit those who held magistrate positions before thirty to be chosen for the senate; for this reason: the edict permits taking on the role of magistrate before turning thirty, and the law states that anyone who has been a magistrate is eligible for the senate. However, regarding those who never held any office in the state, despite being of the required age, I have some doubts; and therefore, Sir, I seek your guidance. I have attached the main points of the law, along with the edict of Augustus, to this letter.
LXXXIV — TRAJAN TO PLINY
I AGREE with you, my dearest Secundus, in your construction, and am of opinion that the law of Pompey is so far repealed by the edict of the emperor Augustus that those persons who are not less than twenty-two years of age may execute the office of magistrates, and, when they have, may be received into the senate of their respective cities. But I think that they who are under thirty years of age, and have not discharged the function of a magistrate, cannot, upon pretence that in point of years they were competent to the office, legally be elected into the senate of their several communities.
I AGREE with you, my dear Secundus, in your understanding, and I believe that the law of Pompey has been partly overridden by the edict of Emperor Augustus. This means that individuals who are at least twenty-two years old can serve as magistrates and, once they do, can be accepted into the senate of their cities. However, I think that those who are under thirty and haven’t held the position of a magistrate cannot legally be elected into the senate of their communities just because they are of age for the role.
LXXXV — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
WHILST I was despatching some public affairs, Sir, at my apartments in Prusa, at the foot of Olympus, with the intention of leaving that city the same day, the magistrate Asclepiades informed me that Eumolpus had appealed to me from a motion which Cocceianus Dion made in their senate. Dion, it seems, having been appointed supervisor of a public building, desired that it might be assigned[1060] to the city in form. Eumolpus, who was counsel for Flavius Archippus, insisted that Dion should first be required to deliver in his accounts relating to this work, before it was assigned to the corporation; suggesting that he had not acted in the manner he ought. He added, at the same time, that in this building, in which your statue is erected, the bodies of Dion's wife and son are entombed,[1061] and urged me to hear this cause in the public court of judicature. Upon my at once assenting to his request, and deferring my journey for that purpose, he desired a longer day in order to prepare matters for hearing, and that I would try this cause in some other city. I appointed the city of Nicea; where, when I had taken my seat, the same Eumolpus, pretending not to be yet sufficiently instructed, moved that the trial might be again put off: Dion, on the contrary, insisted it should be heard. They debated this point very fully on both sides, and entered a little into the merits of the cause; when being of opinion that it was reasonable it should be adjourned, and thinking it proper to consult with you in an affair which was of consequence in point of precedent, I directed them to exhibit the articles of their respective allegations in writing; for I was desirous you should judge from their own representations of the state of the question between them. Dion promised to comply with this direction and Eumolpus also assured me he would draw up a memorial of what he had to allege on the part of the community. But he added that, being only concerned as advocate on behalf of Archippus, whose instructions he had laid before me, he had no charge to bring with respect to the sepulchres. Archippus, however, for whom Eulnolpus was counsel here, as at Prusa, assured me he would himself present a charge in form upon this head. But neither Eumolpus nor Archippus (though I have waited several days for that purpose) have yet performed their engagement: Dion indeed has; and I have annexed his memorial to this letter. I have inspected the buildings in question, where I find your statue is placed in a library, and as to the edifice in which the bodies of Dion's wife and son are said to be deposited, it stands in the middle of a court, which is enclosed with a colonnade. Deign, therefore, I entreat you, Sir, to direct my judgment in the determination of this cause above all others as it is a point to which the public is greatly attentive, and necessarily so, since the fact is not only acknowledged, but countenanced by many precedents.
WHILE I was handling some public matters in my place in Prusa, at the base of Olympus, planning to leave the city that same day, the magistrate Asclepiades informed me that Eumolpus had appealed to me regarding a motion made by Cocceianus Dion in their senate. It seems that Dion, having been appointed overseer of a public building, wanted it officially assigned to the city. Eumolpus, who was representing Flavius Archippus, argued that Dion should first be required to submit his accounts related to this project before it was assigned to the corporation, suggesting he hadn’t acted appropriately. He also noted that within this building, where your statue is placed, lie the remains of Dion's wife and son, and he urged me to hear this case in the public court. After I agreed to his request and postponed my journey for this reason, he asked for more time to prepare the case and requested that I try it in another city. I chose Nicea; when I took my seat there, Eumolpus, pretending he still wasn’t fully prepared, moved to postpone the trial again, while Dion insisted it should proceed. They debated this matter thoroughly, touching slightly on the merits of the case, and after considering it reasonable to adjourn, I thought it best to consult with you on an issue that could set a significant precedent. I instructed them to submit their allegations in writing so you could judge the situation based on their own representations. Dion agreed to this, and Eumolpus also promised to prepare a summary of his arguments on behalf of the community. However, he added that since he was only acting as Archippus's advocate, which he had discussed with me, he had no complaint regarding the tombs. Archippus, for whom Eumolpus was also counsel both here and in Prusa, assured me that he would present a formal complaint on this matter. But neither Eumolpus nor Archippus, despite me waiting several days for them to do so, have fulfilled their promise; Dion has, and I’ve attached his summary to this letter. I have looked at the buildings in question, where I see your statue is located in a library, and regarding the structure where Dion's wife and son are said to be buried, it is in the center of a courtyard surrounded by a colonnade. Therefore, I kindly ask you, Sir, to guide my judgment in this case above all others, as it is an issue of great public interest, and necessarily so, since the fact is not only recognized but also supported by many precedents.
LXXXVI — TRAJAN TO PLINY
You well know, my dearest Secundus, that it is my standing maxim not to create an awe of my person by severe and rigorous measures, and by construing every slight offence into an act of treason; you had no reason, therefore, to hesitate a moment upon the point concerning which you thought proper to consult me. Without entering therefore into the merits of that question (to which I would by no means give any attention, though there were ever so many instances of the same kind), I recommend to your care the examination of Dion's accounts relating to the public works which he has finished; as it is a case in which the interest of the city is concerned, and as Dion neither ought nor, it seems, does refuse to submit to the examination.
You know well, my dearest Secundus, that I believe in not intimidating people with harsh actions or treating every minor mistake as a serious crime. So, you had no reason to hesitate when you wanted my advice on this matter. Without getting into the specifics of that question (which I wouldn’t focus on, even if there were many similar cases), I suggest you look into Dion's accounts for the public works he has completed. This is important for the city's interests, and Dion should be willing to undergo this examination.
LXXXVII — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
THE Niceans having, in the name of their community, conjured me, Sir, by all my hopes and wishes for your prosperity and immortal glory (an adjuration which is and ought to be most sacred to me), to present to you their petition, I did not think myself at liberty to refuse them: I have therefore annexed it to this letter.
THE Niceans, on behalf of their community, have earnestly requested me, Sir, by all my hopes and wishes for your success and lasting honor (a plea that is and should be very sacred to me), to pass along their petition to you. I didn’t feel I could turn them down, so I have attached it to this letter.
LXXXVIII — TRAJAN TO PLINY
THE Niceans I find, claim a right, by an edict of Augustus, to the estate of every citizen who dies intestate. You will therefore summon the several parties interested in this question, and, examining these pretensions, with the assistance of the procurators Virdius Gemellinus, and Epimachus, my freedman (having duly weighed every argument that shall be alleged against the claim), determine as shall appear most equitable.
THE Niceans I find, assert a right, based on a decree from Augustus, to inherit the estate of any citizen who dies without a will. Therefore, you should call together all the parties involved in this matter and, after reviewing these claims with the help of the procurators Virdius Gemellinus and Epimachus, my freedman (carefully considering every argument presented against the claim), decide what seems fairest.
LXXXIX — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
MAY this and many succeeding birthdays be attended, Sir, with the highest felicity to you; and may you, in the midst of an uninterrupted course of health and prosperity, be still adding to the increase of that immortal glory which your virtues justly merit!
MAY this and many more birthdays be filled with the greatest happiness for you, Sir; and may you, while enjoying a continuous stream of health and success, keep adding to the lasting fame that your virtues truly deserve!
XC — TRAJAN TO PLINY
YOUR wishes, my dearest Secundus, for my enjoyment of many happy birthdays amidst the glory and prosperity of the republic were extremely agreeable to me.
YOUR wishes, my dearest Secundus, for my enjoyment of many happy birthdays amidst the glory and prosperity of the republic were incredibly pleasing to me.
XCI — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
THE inhabitants of Sinope[1062] are ill supplied, Sir, with water, which however may be brought thither from about sixteen miles' distance in great plenty and perfection. The ground, indeed, near the source of this spring is, for rather over a mile, of a very suspicious and marshy nature; but I have directed an examination to be made (which will be effected at a small expense) whether it is sufficiently firm to support any superstructure. I have taken care to provide a sufficient fund for this purpose, if you should approve, Sir, of a work so conducive to the health and enjoyment of this colony, greatly distressed by a scarcity of water.
The people of Sinope[1062] don’t have enough water, Sir, but it can be supplied from about sixteen miles away in abundance and quality. The land around the spring’s source is, for just over a mile, quite marshy and questionable. However, I’ve arranged for an evaluation to be done (which won’t cost much) to see if it’s stable enough to support any construction. I’ve ensured there’s enough funding for this if you approve, Sir, for a project that would greatly benefit the health and well-being of this colony, which is struggling with a water shortage.
XCII — TRAJAN TO PLINY
I WOULD have you proceed, my dearest Secundus, in carefully examining whether the ground you suspect is firm enough to support an aqueduct. For I have no manner of doubt that the Sinopian colony ought to be supplied with water; provided their finances will bear the expense of a work so conducive to their health and pleasure.
I want you to move forward, my dearest Secundus, by carefully checking whether the ground you think might work is solid enough to support an aqueduct. I have no doubt that the Sinopian colony needs a water supply, as long as their budget can handle the costs for a project that would greatly benefit their health and enjoyment.
XCIII — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
THE free and confederate city of the Amiseni[1063] enjoys, by your indulgence, the privilege of its own laws. A memorial being presented to me there, concerning a charitable institution,[1064] I have subjoined it to this letter, that you may consider, Sir, whether, and how far, this society ought to be licensed or prohibited.
THE free and confederate city of the Amiseni[1063] has the privilege of its own laws, thanks to your kindness. A petition was presented to me there regarding a charitable organization,[1064] and I've attached it to this letter for you to consider, Sir, whether and to what extent this society should be allowed or banned.
XCIV — TRAJAN TO PLINY
IF the petition of the Amiseni which you have transmitted to me, concerning the establishment of a charitable society, be agreeable to their own laws, which by the articles of alliance it is stipulated they shall enjoy, I shall not oppose it; especially if these contributions are employed, not for the purpose of riot and faction, but for the support of the indigent. In other cities, however, which are subject to our laws, I would have all assemblies of this nature prohibited.
IF the petition of the Amiseni that you sent me regarding the formation of a charitable society aligns with their own laws, as stated in the articles of alliance, I will not oppose it; particularly if these funds are used for supporting those in need rather than for causing unrest and division. However, in other cities that fall under our laws, I would prohibit all gatherings of this kind.
XCV — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
SUETONIUS TRANQUILLUS, Sir, is a most excellent, honour-able, and learned man. I was so much pleased with his tastes and disposition that I have long since invited him into my family, as my constant guest and domestic friend; and my affection for him increased the more I knew of him. Two reasons concur to render the privileges which the law grants to those who have three children particularly necessary to him; I mean the bounty of his friends, and the ill-success of his marriage. Those advantages, therefore, which nature has denied to him, he hopes to obtain from your goodness, by my intercession. I am thoroughly sensible, Sir, of the value of the privilege I am asking; but I know, too, I am asking it from one whose gracious compliance with all my desires I have amply experienced. How passionately I wish to do so in the present instance, you will judge by my thus requesting it in my absence; which I would not, had it not been a favour which I am more than ordinarily anxious to obtain.[1065]
SUETONIUS TRANQUILLUS is a remarkable, honorable, and knowledgeable man. I was so impressed with his character and personality that I invited him into my home a long time ago, making him a regular guest and close friend. My affection for him has only grown as I've gotten to know him better. There are two reasons why the legal privileges granted to those who have three children are especially important for him: the generosity of his friends and the unfortunate outcome of his marriage. Therefore, the advantages that nature has denied him are what he hopes to receive from your kindness, through my recommendation. I fully understand, Sir, the value of the privilege I’m asking for; but I also know that I’m making this request to someone whose willingness to fulfill my wishes I have frequently experienced. You can tell how strongly I wish to make this request given that I'm doing so in my absence, which I wouldn’t do unless it were a favor I’m particularly eager to obtain.[1065]
XCVI — TRAJAN TO PLINY
You cannot but be sensible, my dearest Secundus, how reserved I am in granting favours of the kind you desire; having frequently declared in the senate that I had not exceeded the number of which I assured that illustrious order I would be contented with. I have yielded, however, to your request, and have directed an article to be inserted in my register, that I have conferred upon Tranquillus, on my usual conditions, the privilege which the law grants to these who have three children.
You must realize, my dearest Secundus, how cautious I am in granting the favors you want; I have often stated in the senate that I haven't exceeded the number I assured that distinguished assembly I would be satisfied with. However, I have given in to your request and have ordered an entry to be added to my records, stating that I have granted Tranquillus, under my usual conditions, the privilege that the law gives to those who have three children.
XCVII To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN[1066]
IT is my invariable rule, Sir, to refer to you in all matters where I feel doubtful; for who is more capable of removing my scruples, or informing my ignorance? Having never been present at any trials concerning those who profess Christianity, I am unacquainted not only with the nature of their crimes, or the measure of their punishment, but how far it is proper to enter into an examination concerning them. Whether, therefore, any difference is usually made with respect to ages, or no distinction is to be observed between the young and the adult; whether repentance entitles them to a pardon; or if a man has been once a Christian, it avails nothing to desist from his error; whether the very profession of Christianity, unattended with any criminal act, or only the crimes themselves inherent in the profession are punishable; on all these points I am in great doubt. In the meanwhile, the method I have observed towards those who have been brought before me as Christians is this: I asked them whether they were Christians; if they admitted it, I repeated the question twice, and threatened them with punishment; if they persisted, I ordered them to be at once punished: for I was persuaded, whatever the nature of their opinions might be, a contumacious and inflexible obstinacy certainly deserved correction. There were others also brought before me possessed with the same infatuation, but being Roman citizens,[1067] I directed them to be sent to Rome. But this crime spreading (as is usually the case) while it was actually under prosecution, several instances of the same nature occurred. An anonymous information was laid before me containing a charge against several persons, who upon examination denied they were Christians, or had ever been so. They repeated after me an invocation to the gods, and offered religious rites with wine and incense before your statue (which for that purpose I had ordered to be brought, together with those of the gods), and even reviled the name of Christ: whereas there is no forcing, it is said, those who are really Christians into any of these compliances: I thought it proper, therefore, to discharge them. Some among those who were accused by a witness in person at first confessed themselves Christians, but immediately after denied it; the rest owned indeed that they had been of that number formerly, but had now (some above three, others more, and a few above twenty years ago) renounced that error. They all worshipped your statue and the images of the gods, uttering imprecations at the same time against the name of Christ. They affirmed the whole of their guilt, or their error, was, that they met on a stated day before it was light, and addressed a form of prayer to Christ, as to a divinity, binding themselves by a solemn oath, not for the purposes of any wicked design, but never to commit any fraud, theft, or adultery, never to falsify their word, nor deny a trust when they should be called upon to deliver it up; after which it was their custom to separate, and then reassemble, to eat in common a harmless meal. From this custom, however, they desisted after the publication of my edict, by which, according to your commands, I forbade the meeting of any assemblies. After receiving this account, I judged it so much the more necessary to endeavor to extort the real truth, by putting two female slaves to the torture, who were said to officiate' in their religious rites: but all I could discover was evidence of an absurd and extravagant superstition. I deemed it expedient, therefore, to adjourn all further proceedings, in order to consult you. For it appears to be a matter highly deserving your consideration, more especially as great numbers must be involved in the danger of these prosecutions, which have already extended, and are still likely to extend, to persons of all ranks and ages, and even of both sexes. In fact, this contagious superstition is not confined to the cities only, but has spread its infection among the neighbouring villages and country. Nevertheless, it still seems possible to restrain its progress. The temples, at least, which were once almost deserted, begin now to be frequented; and the sacred rites, after a long intermission, are again revived; while there is a general demand for the victims, which till lately found very few purchasers. From all this it is easy to conjecture what numbers might be reclaimed if a general pardon were granted to those who shall repent of their error.[1068]
IT is my consistent practice, Sir, to consult you on any matter where I have doubts; for who better than you can clarify my uncertainties or enlighten my ignorance? Since I have never attended any trials related to those who identify as Christians, I am unfamiliar not only with the nature of their offenses and the severity of their punishments but also with how in-depth I should investigate these cases. I wonder whether different standards are applied based on age, or if there’s no distinction between the young and adults; whether repentance qualifies someone for forgiveness; or if a person who was once a Christian forfeits that status regardless of their current beliefs; whether simply identifying as a Christian without committing a crime warrants punishment, or if it's only the offenses inherent to that identity that result in consequences. I find myself quite confused regarding these issues. Meanwhile, my approach towards those who have been presented to me as Christians has been this: I ask them if they are Christians; if they confirm, I reiterate the question twice and threaten them with punishment; if they remain steadfast, I order their immediate punishment, convinced that stubbornness and refusal to conform deserve correction. There were also others who were brought before me harboring the same misguided beliefs, but being Roman citizens, I instructed that they be sent to Rome. However, as this crime has been spreading (as often happens) during the course of this investigation, several similar cases have arisen. An anonymous tip was brought to me charging multiple individuals, who, when questioned, denied being Christians or ever having been one. They recited an invocation to the gods after me and offered sacrifices of wine and incense before your statue (which I had ordered to be brought along with those of the gods) and even insulted the name of Christ. It is said that those who are true Christians cannot be forced into such compliances, so I decided to release them. Some of those accused by a witness initially confessed to being Christians but quickly recanted; the rest admitted they had previously identified as Christians but had since renounced that belief (some over three years ago, others longer, and a few more than twenty years ago). They all worshipped your statue and the images of the gods while at the same time cursing the name of Christ. They claimed their only wrongdoing or error was that they gathered on a specific day before dawn to pray to Christ as a god, vowing with a solemn oath, not for any wicked purpose, but to never commit fraud, theft, or adultery, nor to break their word or betray a trust. After their gathering, they would separate and then come together again for a shared meal. However, they ceased this practice after my edict, which, per your instructions, prohibited any gatherings. After learning this, I felt it was necessary to uncover the truth by torturing two female slaves who were said to assist in their rituals, but all I found was evidence of a bizarre and outrageous superstition. Therefore, I thought it best to pause all further actions to consult you. This situation seems to require your careful consideration, especially since many individuals are at risk from these prosecutions, which have already spread and might continue to include people of all statuses and ages, and even both genders. In fact, this spreading superstition is not limited to cities but has also infiltrated nearby villages and rural areas. Nonetheless, it still seems possible to curb its spread. The temples, which were almost empty before, are starting to see visitors again; religious practices, after a long break, are being revitalized; and there is now a growing demand for sacrifices, which until recently had very few buyers. From all this, it is easy to infer how many might be won back if a general pardon were granted to those who repent for their mistakes.
XCVIII — TRAJAN TO PLINY
You have adopted the right course, my dearest Secundtis, in investigating the charges against the Christians who were brought before you. It is not possible to lay down any general rule for all such cases. Do not go out of your way to look for them. If indeed they should be brought before you, and the crime is proved, they must be punished;[1069] with the restriction, however, that where the party denies he is a Christian, and shall make it evident that he is not, by invoking our gods, let him (notwithstanding any former suspicion) be pardoned upon his repentance. Anonymous informations ought not to be received in any sort of prosecution. It is introducing a very dangerous precedent, and is quite foreign to the spirit of our age.
You’ve chosen the right approach, my dearest Secundtis, by looking into the accusations against the Christians brought before you. There’s no one-size-fits-all rule for these situations. Don’t go out of your way to seek them out. If they do come before you and the crime is proven, they must be punished; however, if someone denies being a Christian and can clearly show this by honoring our gods, they should be forgiven upon their repentance, regardless of any previous suspicions. Anonymous tips shouldn’t be accepted in any prosecution. This sets a very dangerous precedent and goes against the spirit of our time.
XCIX — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
THE elegant and beautiful city of Amastris,[1070] Sir, has, among other principal constructions, a very fine street and of considerable length, on one entire side of which runs what is called indeed a river, but in fact is no other than a vile common sewer, extremely offensive to the eye, and at the same time very pestilential on account of its noxious smell. It will be advantageous, therefore, in point of health, as well as decency, to have it covered; which shall be done with your permission: as I will take care, on my part, that money be not wanting for executing so noble and necessary a work.
THE elegant and beautiful city of Amastris, [1070] Sir, has, among its other main structures, a very nice street that is quite long. On one entire side of this street runs what is actually called a river, but is, in reality, nothing more than a disgusting open sewer, extremely unpleasant to look at, and also very harmful because of its foul smell. It would be beneficial, both for health and decency, to cover it; this shall be done with your permission. I will ensure that there are sufficient funds available to carry out such a noble and necessary project.
C — TRAJAN TO PLINY
IT IS highly reasonable, my dearest Secundus, if the water which runs through the city of Amastris is prejudicial, while uncovered, to the health of the inhabitants, that it should be covered up. I am well assured you will, with your usual application, take care that the money necessary for this work shall not be wanting.
IT MAKES perfect sense, my dear Secundus, that if the water flowing through the city of Amastris is harmful to the health of the residents while exposed, it should be covered. I'm confident that with your usual diligence, you will ensure that the funds needed for this project are available.
CI To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
WE have celebrated, Sir, with great joy and festivity, those votive soleninities which were publicly proclaimed as formerly, and renewed them the present year, accompanied by the soldiers and provincials, who zealously joined with us in imploring the gods that they would be graciously pleased to preserve you and the republic in that state of prosperity which your many and great virtues, particularly your piety and reverence towards them, so justly merit.
We have celebrated, Sir, with great joy and festivity, those sacred occasions that were publicly announced as before, and renewed them this year, with the soldiers and local people eagerly joining us in asking the gods to kindly protect you and the republic in the prosperity that your many and great qualities, especially your devotion and respect towards them, truly deserve.
CII — TRAJAN TO PLINY
IT was agreeable to me to learn by your letter that the army and the provincials seconded you, with the most joyful unanimity, in those vows which you paid and renewed to the immortal gods for my preservation and prosperity.
I was pleased to hear from your letter that the army and the locals supported you, with complete enthusiasm, in the vows you made and renewed to the immortal gods for my safety and success.
CIII — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
WE have celebrated, with all the warmth of that pious zeal we justly ought, the day on which, by a most happy succession, the protection of mankind was committed over into your hands; recommending to the gods, from whom you received the empire, the object of your public vows and congratulations.
We have celebrated, with all the excitement that is truly deserved, the day when, through a fortunate turn of events, the responsibility for humanity was entrusted to you; we are asking the gods, from whom you received your power, to bless the purpose of your public promises and congratulations.
CIV — TRAJAN TO PLINY
I WAS extremely well pleased to be informed by your letter that you had, at the head of the soldiers and the provincials, solemnised my accession to the empire with all due joy and zeal.
I was really happy to hear from your letter that you, along with the soldiers and the locals, celebrated my rise to the empire with all the joy and enthusiasm it deserved.
CV — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
VALERIUS PAULINUS, Sir, having bequeathed to me the right of patronage[1071] over all his freedmen, except one, I intreat you to grant the freedom of Rome to three of them. To desire you to extend this favour to all of them would, I fear, be too unreasonable a trespass upon your indulgence; which, in proportion as I have amply experienced, I ought to be so much the more cautious in troubling. The persons for whom I make this request are C. Valerius Astraeus, C. Valerius Dionysius, and C. Valerius Aper.
VALERIUS PAULINUS, Sir, has given me the right to take care of all his freedmen, except for one. I kindly ask you to grant freedom in Rome to three of them. To request that you extend this favor to all of them might be too much of an imposition on your generosity; which, based on my prior experiences, makes me even more careful in asking for your help. The individuals I’m requesting this for are C. Valerius Astraeus, C. Valerius Dionysius, and C. Valerius Aper.
CVI — TRAJAN TO PLINY
YOU act most generously in so early soliciting in favour of those whom Valerius Paulinus has confided to your trust. I have accordingly granted the freedom of the city to such of his freedmen for whom you requested it, and have directed the patent to be registered: I am ready to confer the same on the rest, whenever you shall desire me.
You are being very generous by asking so early on behalf of those whom Valerius Paulinus has entrusted to you. As a result, I have granted city freedom to the freedmen you requested it for and have instructed that the document be registered. I'm ready to do the same for the others whenever you need me to.
CVII — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
P. ATTIUS AQUILA, a centurion of the sixth equestrian cohort, requested me, Sir, to transmit his petition to you, in favour of his daughter. I thought it would be unkind to refuse him this service, knowing, as I do, with what patience and kindness you attend to the petitions of the soldiers.
P. ATTIUS AQUILA, a centurion of the sixth equestrian cohort, asked me to pass along his request to you on behalf of his daughter. I felt it would be rude to decline his request, knowing how patiently and kindly you handle the petitions of the soldiers.
CVIII — TRAJAN TO PLINY
I HAVE read the petition of P. Attius Aquila, centurion of the sixth equestrian cohort, which you sent to me; and in compliance with his request, I have conferred upon his daughter the freedom of the city of Rome. I send you at the same time the patent, which you will deliver to him.
I have read the petition from P. Attius Aquila, a centurion in the sixth equestrian cohort, that you sent me; and in response to his request, I have granted his daughter the freedom of the city of Rome. I'm also sending you the official document, which you will give to him.
CIX — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
I REQUEST, Sir, your directions with respect to the recovering those debts which are due to the cities of Bithynia and Pontus, either for rent, or goods sold, or upon any other consideration. I find they have a privilege conceded to them by several proconsuls, of being preferred to other creditors; and this custom has prevailed as if it had been established by law. Your prudence, I imagine, will think it necessary to enact some settled rule, by which their rights may always be secured. For the edicts of others, how wisely however founded, are but feeble and temporary ordinances, unless confirmed and sanctioned by your authority.
I REQUEST, Sir, your guidance on how to recover the debts owed to the cities of Bithynia and Pontus, whether for rent, goods sold, or any other reason. I see they have a privilege granted by several proconsuls, allowing them to be prioritized over other creditors; this practice has continued as if it were law. I believe your wisdom will find it essential to establish a clear rule to always protect their rights. The edicts of others, no matter how wisely crafted, are weak and temporary unless they are backed and approved by your authority.
CX — TRAJAN TO PLINY
THE right which the cities either of Pontus or Bithynia claim relating to the recovery of debts of whatever kind, due to their several communities, must be determined agreeably to their respective laws. Where any of these communities enjoy the privilege of being preferred to other creditors, it must be maintained; but, where no such privilege prevails, it is not just I should establish one, in prejudice of private property.
THE right that the cities of Pontus or Bithynia claim regarding the collection of debts owed to their communities must be handled according to their respective laws. If any of these communities have the privilege of being prioritized over other creditors, that should be upheld; however, where no such privilege exists, it is not fair for me to create one that disadvantages private property.
CXI — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
THE solicitor to the treasury of the city of Amisis instituted a claim, Sir, before me against Julius Piso of about forty thousand denarii,[1072] presented to him by the public above twenty years ago, with the consent of the general council and assembly of the city: and he founded his demand upon certain of your edicts, by which donations of this kind are prohibited. Piso, on the other hand, asserted that he had conferred large sums of money upon the community, and, indeed, had thereby expended almost the whole of his estate. He insisted upon the length of time which had intervened since this donation, and hoped that he should not be compelled, to the ruin of the remainder of his fortunes, to refund a present which had been granted him long since, in return for many good offices he had done the city. For this reason, Sir, I thought it necessary to suspend giving any judgment in this cause till I shall receive your directions.
THE solicitor to the treasury of the city of Amisis filed a claim, Sir, before me against Julius Piso for about forty thousand denarii, [1072] given to him by the public over twenty years ago, with the agreement of the general council and assembly of the city: and he based his demand on certain of your edicts, which prohibit this kind of donation. Piso, on the other hand, argued that he had given significant amounts of money to the community and had essentially spent nearly all of his estate. He pointed out the long time that had passed since this donation and hoped that he would not be forced, to the detriment of what remained of his fortune, to repay a gift that had been given to him long ago in gratitude for many good deeds he had done for the city. For this reason, Sir, I found it necessary to hold off on making any judgment in this matter until I receive your instructions.
CXII — TRAJAN TO PLINY
THOUGH by my edicts I have ordained that no largesses shall be given out of the public money, yet, that numberless private persons may not be disturbed in the secure possession of their fortunes, those donations which have been made long since ought not to be called in question or revoked. We will not therefore enquire into anything that has been transacted in this affair so long ago as twenty years; for I would be no less attentive to secure the repose of every private man than to preserve the treasure of every public community.
THOUGH I've decreed that no gifts should be given from public funds, to ensure that countless individuals aren’t disrupted in their secure ownership of their wealth, the donations made a long time ago should not be questioned or taken back. Therefore, we won't look into anything that has happened in this matter for as long as twenty years; I want to be just as focused on protecting the peace of every individual as I am on preserving the resources of the public.
CXIII — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
THE Pompeian law, Sir, which is observed in Pontus and Bithynia, does not direct that any money for their admission shall be paid in by those who are elected into the senate by the censors. It has, however, been usual for such members as have been admitted into those assemblies, in pursuance of the privilege which you were pleased to grant to some particular cities, of receiving above their legal number, to pay one[1073] or two thousand denarii[1074] on their election. Subsequent to this, the proconsul Anicius Maximus ordained (though indeed his edict related to some few cities only) that those who were elected by the censors should also pay into the treasury a certain sum, which varied in different places. It remains, therefore, for your consideration whether it would not be proper to settle a certain sum for each member who is elected into the councils to pay upon his entrance; for it well becomes you, whose every word and action deserves to be immortalized, to establish laws that shall endure for ever.
THE Pompeian law, Sir, which is followed in Pontus and Bithynia, does not require any money for the admission of those elected to the senate by the censors. However, it has been common for newly admitted members of those assemblies, due to the privilege you granted to certain cities to exceed their legal number, to pay one[1073] or two thousand denarii[1074] upon their election. Later, the proconsul Anicius Maximus decreed (though his edict applied to only a few cities) that those elected by the censors should also contribute a sum to the treasury, which varied by location. Therefore, it is now for you to consider whether it would be appropriate to establish a specific amount for each member elected to the councils to pay upon their entrance; it truly befits you, whose every word and action deserves to be remembered, to create laws that will last forever.
CXIV — TRAJAN TO PLINY
I CAN give no general directions applicable to all the cities of Bithynia, in relation to those who are elected members of their respective councils, whether they shall pay an honorary fee upon their admittance or not. I think that the safest method which can be pursued is to follow the particular laws of each city; and I also think that the censors ought to make the sum less for those who are chosen into the senate contrary to their inclinations than for the rest.
I can't provide any general guidelines that would work for all the cities of Bithynia regarding whether elected council members should pay an honorary fee upon their admission. I believe the best approach is to adhere to the specific laws of each city. I also think that the censors should set a lower fee for those who are chosen for the senate against their will compared to others.
CXV — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
THE Pompeian law, Sir, allows the Bithynians to give the freedom of their respective cities to any person they think proper, provided he is not a foreigner, but native of some of the cities of this province. The same law specifies the particular causes for which the censors may expel any member of the senate, but makes no mention of foreigners. Certain of the censors therefore have desired my opinion whether they ought to expel a member if he should happen to be a foreigner. But I thought it necessary to receive your instructions in this case; not only because the law, though it forbids foreigners to be admitted citizens, does not direct that a senator shall be expelled for the same reason, but because I am informed that in every city in the province a great number of the senators are foreigners. If, therefore, this clause of the law, which seems to be antiquated by a long custom to the contrary, should be enforced, many cities, as well as private persons, must be injured by it. I have annexed the heads of this law to my letter.
THE Pompeian law, Sir, allows the Bithynians to grant freedom in their respective cities to anyone they choose, as long as he is not a foreigner but a native of one of the cities in this province. The same law outlines the specific reasons for which censors may expel any member of the senate but does not mention foreigners. Some censors have therefore sought my opinion on whether they should expel a member if that person happens to be a foreigner. However, I felt it was important to get your guidance on this matter; not only because the law prohibits foreigners from becoming citizens but does not specify that a senator should be expelled for that reason, but also because I have been informed that many senators in every city in the province are foreigners. If this clause of the law, which seems outdated due to long-standing practice to the contrary, were to be enforced, many cities and individuals would face harm as a result. I have attached the details of this law to my letter.
CXVI — TRAJAN TO PLINY
You might well be doubtful, my dearest Secundus, what reply to give to the censors, who consulted you concerning their right to elect into the senate foreign citizens, though of the same province. The authority of the law on one side, and long custom prevailing against it on the other, might justly occasion you to hesitate, The proper mean to observe in this case will be to make no change in what is past, but to allow those senators who are already elected, though contrary to law, to keep their seats, to whatever city they may belong; in all future elections, however, to pursue the directions of the Pompeian law: for to give it a retrospective operation would necessarily introduce great confusion.
You might be wondering, my dear Secundus, how to respond to the censors who asked you about their right to elect foreign citizens into the senate, even if they are from the same province. The law supports one side, while longstanding custom goes against it, which might justifiably make you hesitate. The best approach here would be to make no changes to what has already happened but to allow those senators who are currently elected, even if it was against the law, to keep their positions, no matter what city they come from. However, for all future elections, you should follow the rules set by the Pompeian law. Changing it retroactively would only lead to significant confusion.
CXVII — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
IT is customary here upon any person taking the manly robe, solemnising his marriage, entering upon the office of a magistrate, or dedicating any public work, to invite the whole senate, together with a considerable part of the commonalty, and distribute to each of the company one or two denarii.[1075] I request you to inform me whether you think proper this ceremony should be observed, or how far you approve of it. For myself, though I am of opinion that upon some occasions, especially those of public festivals, this kind of invitation may be permitted, yet, when carried so far as to draw together a thousand persons, and sometimes more, it seems to be going beyond a reasonable number, and has somewhat the appearance of ambitious largesses.
It’s a tradition here that whenever someone takes on a manly role, gets married, starts their duties as a magistrate, or dedicates any public project, they invite the entire senate along with a good number of the townspeople, and give each guest one or two denarii. [1075] I’d like to know whether you think this ceremony should be followed, and how much you support it. Personally, I believe that on certain occasions, especially public festivals, this kind of invitation can be acceptable; however, when it leads to gathering a thousand people or more, it seems excessive and has the look of seeking recognition through extravagant gifts.
CXVIII — TRAJAN TO PLINY
You very justly apprehended that those public invitations which extend to an immoderate number of people, and where the dole is distributed, not singly to a few acquaintances, but, as it were, to whole collective bodies, may be turned to the factious purposes of ambition. But I appointed you to your present government, fully relying upon your prudence, and in the persuasion that you would take proper measures for regulating the manners and settling the peace of the province.
You rightly understood that public invitations aimed at large groups of people, where resources are given out not just to a few friends but to whole groups, can be misused for ambitious and divisive purposes. However, I appointed you to your current position because I trust your judgment and believe you will take the right steps to manage behaviors and maintain peace in the province.
CXIX — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
THE athletic victors, Sir, in the Iselastic[1076] games, conceive that the stipend you have established for the conquerors becomes due from the day they are crowned: for it is not at all material, they say, what time they were triumphantly conducted into their country, but when they merited that honour. On the contrary, when I consider the meaning of the term Iselastic, I am strongly inclined to think that it is intended the stipend should commence from the time of their public entry. They likewise petition to be allowed the treat you give at those combats which you have converted into Iselastic, though they were conquerors before the appointment of that institution: for it is but reasonable, they assert, that they should receive the reward in this instance, as they are deprived of it at those games which have been divested of the honour of being Iselastic, since their victory. But I am very doubtful, whether a retrospect should be admitted in the case in question, and a reward given, to which the claimants had no right at the time they obtained the victory. I beg, therefore, you would be pleased to direct my judgment in these points, by explaining the intention of your own benefactions.
THE athletic winners, Sir, in the Iselastic[1076] games, believe that the payment you established for the champions should start from the day they are crowned. They argue that it doesn’t really matter when they were welcomed back to their country, but rather when they earned that honor. However, when I think about the meaning of the term Iselastic, I’m inclined to believe that the payment should begin from the time of their public entry. They also request to be included in the treat you offer at those events you have turned into Iselastic, even though they were champions before that institution was established. They assert that it is only fair for them to receive the reward in this case, as they are missing out on it in games that have lost the distinction of being Iselastic, since their victory. But I’m quite unsure whether past victories should count in this situation and whether a reward should be granted for something they had no claim to at the time of their win. Therefore, I kindly ask you to guide my judgment on these matters by clarifying the intent behind your contributions.
CXX — TRAJAN TO PLINY
THE stipend appointed for the conqueror in the Iselastic games ought not, I think, to commence till he makes his triumphant entry into his city. Nor are the prizes, at those combats which I thought proper to make Iselastic, to be extended backwards to those who were victors before that alteration took place. With regard to the plea which these athletic combatants urge, that they ought to receive the Iselastic prize at those combats which have been made Iselastic subsequent to their conquests, as they are denied it in the same case where the games have ceased to be so, it proves nothing in their favour; for notwithstanding any new arrangements which has been made relating to these games, they are not called upon to return the recompense which they received prior to such alteration.
The stipend for the winner of the Iselastic games shouldn't start until he makes his triumphant entry into his city. Also, the prizes for those contests that I decided to make Iselastic shouldn't be given retroactively to winners from before the change was made. As for the argument that these athletes make—that they should receive the Iselastic prize for events that have been made Iselastic after their victories—they can't claim this, because it doesn’t prove anything in their favor. No matter what new changes have been made regarding these games, they aren't required to return the rewards they received before the changes took place.
CXXI — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
I HAVE hitherto never, Sir, granted an order for post-chaises to any person, or upon any occasion, but in affairs that relate to your administration. I find myself, however, at present under a sort of necessity of breaking through this fixed rule. My wife having received an account of her grandfather's death, and being desirous to wait upon her aunt with all possible expedition, I thought it would be unkind to deny her the use of this privilege; as the grace of so tender an office consists in the early discharge of it, and as I well knew a journey which was founded in filial piety could not fail of your approbation. I should think myself highly ungrateful therefore, were I not to acknowledge that, among other great obligations which I owe to your indulgence, I have this in particular, that, in confidence of your favour, I have ventured to do, without consulting you, what would have been too late had I waited for your consent.
I have never, Sir, given an order for carriages to anyone, or on any occasion, except in matters related to your administration. However, I currently feel a certain necessity to break this consistent rule. My wife has just learned about her grandfather's death, and she wants to visit her aunt as quickly as possible. I thought it would be unkind to deny her this privilege, as the kindness in such a matter lies in acting swiftly, and I knew that a journey rooted in familial love would certainly have your approval. I would consider myself very ungrateful if I didn't acknowledge that, among the many debts I owe to your kindness, this one in particular stands out—trusting in your favor, I took the liberty to act without consulting you, something that would have been too late had I waited for your consent.
CXXII — TRAJAN TO PLINY
You did me justice, my dearest Secundus, in confiding in my affection towards you. Without doubt, if you had waited for my consent to forward your wife in her journey by means of those warrants which I have entrusted to your care, the use of them would not have answered your purpose; since it was proper this visit to her aunt should have the additional recommendation of being paid with all possible expedition.
You did me a favor, my dearest Secundus, by trusting in my feelings for you. Without a doubt, if you had waited for my approval to send your wife on her trip using those warrants I gave you, they wouldn’t have worked out as you intended; it was important that this visit to her aunt should be made as quickly as possible.
FOOTNOTES TO THE CORRESPONDENCE WITH THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
1001 (return)
[ The greater part of
the following letters were written by Pliny during his administration in
the province of Bithynia. They are of a style and character extremely
different from those in the preceding collection; whence some critics have
injudiciously inferred that they are the production of another hand: not
considering that the occasion necessarily required a different manner. In
letters of business, as these chiefly are, turn and sentiment would be
foreign and impertinent; politeness and elegance of expression being the
essentials that constitute perfection in this kind: and in that view,
though they may be less entertaining, they have not less merit than the
former. But besides their particular excellence as letters, they have a
farther recommendation as so many valuable pieces of history, by throwing
a strong light upon the character of one of the most amiable and glorious
princes in the Roman annals. Trajan appears throughout in the most
striking attitude that majesty can be placed in; in the exertion of power
to the godlike purposes of justice and benevolence: and what one of the
ancient historians has said of him is here clearly verified, that "he
rather chose to be loved than flattered by his people." To have been
distinguished by the favour and friendship of a monarch of so exalted a
character is an honour that reflects the brightest lustre upon our author;
as to have been served and celebrated by a courtier of Pliny's genius and
virtues is the noblest monunient of glory that could have been raised to
Trajan. M.]
1001 (return)
[ Most of the letters that follow were written by Pliny during his time as governor in the province of Bithynia. They have a style and tone that are quite different from those in the previous collection; some critics have mistakenly suggested that they were written by someone else, not recognizing that the situation required a different approach. In business correspondence, which these mostly are, flowery language and sentiment would be out of place; politeness and elegance of expression are the key elements of perfection in this format. So, while they might be less entertaining, they hold just as much merit as the earlier letters. Beyond their individual excellence as letters, they also serve as valuable historical documents, shedding light on the character of one of the most admirable and celebrated emperors in Roman history. Trajan consistently presents himself in the strongest possible light, using his power for the noble causes of justice and kindness. What one of the ancient historians wrote about him is clearly validated here: "he preferred to be loved rather than flattered by his people." Being recognized by a monarch of such high character is a great honor that reflects well on our author; conversely, being served and praised by a courtier of Pliny's talent and virtues is the finest tribute to Trajan that could have been made. M.]
1002 (return)
[ Nerva, who succeeded
Domitian, reigned but sixteen months and a few days. Before his death he
not only adopted Trajan, and named him for his successor, but actually
admitted him into a share of the government; giving him the titles of
Cæsar, Germanicus and Imperator. Vid. Plin. Paneg. M.]
1002 (return)
[ Nerva, who took over after Domitian, ruled for just sixteen months and a few days. Before he died, he not only adopted Trajan and named him as his successor, but also allowed him to be involved in the government, giving him the titles of Cæsar, Germanicus, and Imperator. See Plin. Paneg. M.]
1003 (return)
[ $16,000.]
1003 (__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__)
[$16,000.]
1004 (return)
[ One of the four
governments of Lower Egypt. M.]
1004 (return)
[One of the four governments of Lower Egypt. M.]
1005 (return)
[ The extensive power
of paternal authority was (as has been observed in the notes above)
peculiar to the Romans. But after Chrysippus was made a denizen of Rome,
he was not, it would seem, consequentially entitled to that privilege over
those children which were born before his denization. On the other hand,
if it was expressly granted him, his children could not preserve their
right of patronage over their own freedmen, because that right would of
course devolve to their father, by means of this acquired dominion over
them. The denization therefore of his children is as expressly solicited
as his own. But both parties becoming quirites, the children by this
creation, and not pleading in right of their father, would be patres fam.
To prevent which the clause is added, "ita ut sint in patris potestate:"
as there is another to save to them their rights of patronage over their
freedmen, though they were reduced in patrmam potestate. M.]
1005 (return)
[ The extensive power of paternal authority was, as noted above, unique to the Romans. However, once Chrysippus became a citizen of Rome, it appears he was not automatically granted authority over the children born before his citizenship. Conversely, if this privilege was explicitly given to him, then his children wouldn’t retain their own right of patronage over their freedmen, since that right would transfer to their father due to his new dominance over them. Therefore, the request for citizenship for his children is just as important as his own. But since both parties became citizens—his children through this process, and not claiming rights through their father—they would become patres fam. To prevent this situation, the clause is added, "ita ut sint in patris potestate:" and there’s another provision to preserve their patronage rights over their freedmen, even though they were placed under the authority of their father. M.]
1006 (return)
[ Pliny enjoyed the
office of treasurer in conjunction with Cornutus Tertullus. It was the
custom at Rome for those who had colleagues to administer the duties of
their posts by monthly turns. Buchner. M.]
1006 (return)
[ Pliny served as treasurer alongside Cornutus Tertullus. In Rome, it was customary for those with colleagues to take turns managing their responsibilities on a monthly basis. Buchner. M.]
1007 (return)
[ About $16,000; the
annual income of Pliny's estate in Tuscany. He mentions another near Comum
in Milan, the yearly value of which does not appear. We find him likewise
meditating the purchase of an estate, for which he was to give about
$117,000 of our money; but whether he ever completed that purchase is
uncertain. This, however, we are sure of, that his fortunes were but
moderate, considering his high station and necessary expenses: and yet, by
the advantage of a judicious economy, we have seen him in the course of
these letters, exercising a liberality of which after ages have furnished
no parallel. M.]
1007 (return)
[About $16,000; the annual income of Pliny's estate in Tuscany. He mentions another estate near Comum in Milan, but the yearly value of that one is not clear. We also see him considering the purchase of an estate for about $117,000 of our money, though it's uncertain if he ever finalized that deal. What we do know is that his wealth was relatively modest, given his high position and necessary expenses. Still, through smart budgeting, we’ve seen him throughout these letters displaying a generosity that later generations have not matched. M.]
1008 (return)
[ The senators were not
allowed to go from Rome into the provinces without having first obtained
leave of the emperor. Sicily, however, had the privilege to be excepted
out of that law; as Gallia Narbonensis afterwards was, by Claudius Cæsar.
Tacit. Ann. XII. C. 23. M.]
1008 (return)
[ Senators weren't allowed to leave Rome for the provinces without first getting permission from the emperor. However, Sicily had the privilege of being exempt from that rule, just like Gallia Narbonensis was later by Claudius Caesar. Tacit. Ann. XII. C. 23. M.]
1009 (return)
[ One of the seven
priests who presided over the feasts appointed in honour of Jupiter and
the other gods, an office, as appears, of high dignity, since Pliny ranks
it with the augurship.]
1009 (return)
[ One of the seven priests who oversaw the festivals held in honor of Jupiter and the other gods, a position that clearly held great importance, as Pliny places it alongside the role of augur.]
1010 (return)
[ Bithynia, a province
in Anatolia, or Asia Minor, of which Pliny was appointed governor by
Trajan, in the sixth year of his reign, A. D. 103, not as an ordinary
proconsul, but as that emperor's own lieutenant, with powers
extraordinary. (See Dio.) The following letters were written during his
administration of that province. M.]
1010 (return)
[ Bithynia, a province in Anatolia, or Asia Minor, where Pliny was appointed governor by Trajan in the sixth year of his reign, A.D. 103, not as a typical proconsul, but as the emperor's personal deputy, with special powers. (See Dio.) The following letters were written during his time in charge of that province. M.]
1011 (return)
[ A north wind in the
Grecian seas, which rises yearly some time in July, and continues to the
end of August; though others extend it to the middle of September. They
blow only in the day-time. Varenius's Geogr. V.I. p. 513. M.]
1011 (return)
[ A north wind in the Greek seas that starts around July each year and lasts until the end of August, although some say it goes until mid-September. It only blows during the daytime. Varenius's Geogr. V.I. p. 513. M.]
1012 (return)
[ The inhabitants of
Prusa (Brusa), a principal city of Bithynia.]
1012 (return)
[ The residents of Prusa (Brusa), a major city in Bithynia.]
1013 (return)
[ In the sixth year of
Trajan's reign, A. D. 103, and the 41st of our author's age: he continued
in this province about eighteen months. Vid. Mass, in Vit. Phin. 129. M.]
1013 (return)
[ In the sixth year of Trajan's rule, A.D. 103, and the 41st year of the author's life: he stayed in this province for about eighteen months. See Mass, in Vit. Phin. 129. M.]
1014 (return)
[ Among other noble
works which this glorious emperor executed, the forum or square which went
by his name seems to have been the most magnificent. It was built with the
foreign spoils he had taken in war. The covering of this edifice was all
brass, the porticoes exceedingly beautiful and magnificent, with pillars
of more than ordinary height and dimensions. In the centre of this forum
was erected the famous pillar which has been already described.]
1014 (return)
[ Among other great achievements this glorious emperor accomplished, the forum or square that bore his name appears to have been the most magnificent. It was constructed using the foreign spoils he had captured in war. The roof of this building was entirely made of brass, the porticoes were incredibly beautiful and grand, with pillars taller and larger than usual. In the center of this forum stood the famous pillar that has already been described.]
1015 (return)
[ It is probable the
victory here alluded to was that famous one which Trajan gained over the
Daciaiss; some account of which has been given in the notes above. It is
certain, at least, Pliny lived to see his wish accomplished, this emperor
having carried the Roman splendour to its highest pitch, and extended the
dominions of the empire farther than any of his predecessors; as after his
death it began to decline. M.]
1015 (return)
[ It's likely that the victory mentioned here refers to the famous one Trajan won over the Dacians; a summary of which has been provided in the notes above. At the very least, it is certain that Pliny lived to see his wish fulfilled, as this emperor took Roman grandeur to its peak and expanded the empire's territories farther than any of his predecessors; after his death, it started to decline. M.]
1016 (return)
[ The capital of
Bithynia; its modern name is Izmid.]
1016 (return)
[ The capital of Bithynia; its modern name is Izmit.]
1017 (return)
[ The town of
Panticapoeum, also called Bosporus, standing on the European side of the
Cimmerian Bosporus (Straits of Kaffa), in the modern Crimea.]
1017 (return)
[ The town of Panticapoeum, also known as Bosporus, located on the European side of the Cimmerian Bosporus (Straits of Kaffa), in present-day Crimea.]
1018 (return)
[ Nicea (as appears by
the 15th letter of this book), a city in Bithynia, now called Iznik. M.]
1018 (return)
[ Nicea (as noted in the 15th letter of this book), a city in Bithynia, now known as Iznik. M.]
1019 (return)
[ Sarmatia was divided
into European, Asiatic, and German Sarmatia. It is not exactly known what
bounds the ancients gave to this extensive region; however, in general, it
comprehended the northern part of Russia, and the greater part of Poland,
&c. M.]
1019 (return)
[ Sarmatia was divided into European, Asiatic, and German Sarmatia. The exact boundaries established by the ancient peoples for this vast area are unclear; however, it generally included the northern part of Russia, most of Poland, etc. M.]
1020 (return)
[ The first invention
of public couriers is ascribed to Cyrus, who, in order to receive the
earliest intelligence from the governors of the several provinces, erected
post-houses throughout the kingdom of Persia, at equal distances, which
supplied men and horses to forward the public despatches. Augustus was the
first who introduced this most useful institution among the Romans, by
employing post-chaises, disposed at convenient distances, for the purpose
of political intelligence. The magistrates of every city were obliged to
furnish horses for these messengers, upon producing a diploma, or a kind
of warrant, either from the emperor himself or from those who had that
authority under him. Sometimes, though upon very extraordinary occasions,
persons who travelled upon their private affairs, were allowed the use of
these post-chaises. It is surprising they were not sooner used for the
purposes of commerce and private communication. Louis XI. first
established them in France, in the year 1414; but it was not till later (date uncertain) that the post-office was settled in England by Act of
Parliament, M.]
1020 (return)
[ The first public courier service is credited to Cyrus, who set up post-houses at regular intervals across the Persian kingdom to get timely updates from the governors of various provinces. Augustus was the first to implement this beneficial system in Rome by using post chaises located at convenient distances for political messages. Local magistrates were required to provide horses for these messengers whenever they presented a diploma or warrant from the emperor or someone authorized by him. Occasionally, though in rare instances, private travelers were allowed to use these post chaises. It's surprising they weren't used earlier for trade and personal communication. Louis XI established them in France in 1414, but the post office in England was not officially set up by an Act of Parliament until later (date uncertain), M.]
1021 (return)
[ Particular temples,
altars, and statues were allowed among the Romans as places of privilege
and sanctuary to slaves, debtors and malefactors. This custom was
introduced by Romulus, who borrowed it probably from the Greeks; but
during the free state of Rome, few of these asylums were permitted. This
custom prevailed most under the emperors, till it grew so scandalous that
the Emperor Pius found it necessary to restrain those privileged places by
an edict. See Lipsii Excurs. ad Taeiti Ann. III, C. 36, M.]
1021 (return)
[ Certain temples, altars, and statues were recognized by the Romans as special places of refuge for slaves, debtors, and wrongdoers. This practice was established by Romulus, likely borrowed from the Greeks; however, during Rome's republican period, very few of these sanctuaries were allowed. This custom was most prevalent during the imperial era, to the point that it became so outrageous that Emperor Pius found it necessary to limit those privileged spaces through an edict. See Lipsii Excurs. ad Taeiti Ann. III, C. 36, M.]
1022 (return)
[ General under
Deeebalus, king of the Dacians. M.]
1022 (return)
[ General under Deeebalus, king of the Dacians. M.]
1023 (return)
[ A province in Daeia,
comprehending the southern parts of Servia and part of Bulgaria. M.]
1023 (return)
[ A province in Daeia, comprising the southern parts of Servia and part of Bulgaria. M.]
1024 (return)
[ The second expedition
of Trajan against Decebalus was undertaken the same year that Pliny went
governor into this province; the reason therefore why Pliny sent this
Calhidromus to the emperor seems to be that some use might possibly be
made of him in favour of that design, M.]
1024 (return)
[ The second expedition of Trajan against Decebalus took place in the same year that Pliny became governor of this province. The reason Pliny sent Calhidromus to the emperor seems to be that he might be useful for that purpose, M.]
1025 (return)
[ Receiver of the
finances. M.]
1025 (__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__)
[ Finance Receiver. M.]
1026 (return)
[ The coast round the
Black Sea.]
1026 (return)
[ The coastline around the Black Sea.]
1027 (return)
[ The text calls him
primipilarem, that is, one who had been Prirnipilus, in officer in the
army, whose post was both highly honourable and profitable; among other
parts of his office he had the care of the eagle, or chief standard of the
legion. M.]
1027 (return)
[ The text refers to him as primipilarem, which means he was a Primipilus, an officer in the army. This position was both very respected and financially rewarding; part of his responsibilities included taking care of the eagle, or the main standard of the legion. M.]
1028 (return)
[ Slaves who were
purchased by the public. M.]
1028 (return)
[ Slaves who were bought by the community. M.]
1029 (return)
[ The most probable
conjecture (for it is a point of a good deal of obscurity) concerning the
beneficiary seems to be that they were a certain number of soldiers
exempted from the usual duty of their office, in order to be employed as a
sort of body-guards to the general. These were probably foot; as the
equites here mentioned were perhaps of the same nature, only that they
served on horseback. Equites singulares Cæsaris Augusti, &c., are
frequently met with upon ancient inscriptions, and are generally supposed
to mean the bodyguards of the emperor. M.]
1029 (return)
[ The most likely guess (since it's quite unclear) about the beneficiaries seems to be that they were a group of soldiers exempted from their regular duties to serve as bodyguards for the general. These were probably infantry, while the equites mentioned here were likely similar but served on horseback. Equites singulares Cæsaris Augusti, etc., are often found in ancient inscriptions and are generally thought to refer to the emperor's bodyguards. M.]
1030 (return)
[ A province in Asia
Minor, bounded by the Black Sea on the north, Bithynia on the west, Pontus
on the east, and Phrygia on the south.]
1030 (return)
[ A region in Asia Minor, bordered by the Black Sea to the north, Bithynia to the west, Pontus to the east, and Phrygia to the south.]
1031 (return)
[ The Roman policy
excluded slaves from entering into military service, and it was death if
they did so. However, upon cases of great necessity, this maxim was
dispensed with; but then they were first made free before they were
received into the army, excepting only (as Servius in his notes upon
Virgil) observes after the fatal battle of Cannae; when the public
distress was so great that the Romans recruited their army with their
slaves, though they had not time to give them their freedom. One reason,
perhaps, of this policy might be that they did not think it safe to arm so
considerable a body of men, whose numbers, in the times when the Roman
luxury was at its highest, we may have some idea of by the instance which
Pun the naturalist mentions of Claudius Isodorus, who at the time of his
death was possessed of no less than 4,116 slaves, notwithstanding he had
lost great numbers in the civil wars. Pun. Hist. Nat. XXXIII. 10. M.]
1031 (return)
[ The Roman policy excluded slaves from military service, and the penalty for doing so was death. However, in cases of urgent necessity, this rule was relaxed; but they had to be freed before being accepted into the army, except for instances noted by Servius in his commentary on Virgil after the disastrous battle of Cannae. During that time, the public crisis was so severe that the Romans enlisted their slaves without the opportunity to grant them freedom first. One possible reason for this policy might have been the belief that it was too risky to arm such a large group of men, as suggested by the example of Claudius Isodorus, who, according to the naturalist Pliny, owned no less than 4,116 slaves at the time of his death, even after losing many in the civil wars. Pun. Hist. Nat. XXXIII. 10. M.]
1032 (return)
[ A punishment among
the Romans, usually inflicted upon slaves, by which they were to engage
with wild beasts, or perform the part of gladiators, in the public shows.
M.]
1032 (return)
[ A punishment among the Romans, usually given to slaves, where they had to fight wild animals or act as gladiators in public events. M.]
1033 (return)
[ It has been generally
imagined that the ancients had not the art of raising water by engines;
but this passage seems to favour the contrary opinion. The word in the
original is sipho, which Hesychius explains (as one of the commentators
observes) "instrumentuns ad jaculandas aquas adversas incendia; an
instrument to throw up water against fires." But there is a passage in
Seneca which seems to put this matter beyond conjecture, though none of
the critics upon this place have taken notice of it: "Solemiss," says he,
"duabus manibus inter se junctis aguam concipere, et com pressa utrinque
palma in modum ciphonis exprimere" (Q. N. 1. II. 16) where we plainly see
the use of this sipho was to throw UP water, and consequently the Romans
were acquainted with that art. The account which Pliny gives of his
fountains at Tuscum is likewise another evident proof. M.]
1033 (return)
[People generally think that the ancients couldn’t pump water with machines, but this passage suggests otherwise. The original word is sipho, which Hesychius explains (as one commentator points out) as "an instrument to throw up water against fires." However, there’s a passage in Seneca that seems to clarify this, though none of the critics have noted it: "Solemiss," he says, "with both hands joined together to collect water, and with the palms pressed on both sides, to squeeze like a siphon" (Q. N. 1. II. 16), where we clearly see that the function of this sipho was to lift water, indicating that the Romans were familiar with this technique. Pliny's description of his fountains at Tuscum also serves as further evidence. M.]
1034 (return)
[ This was an
anniversary custom observed throughout the empire on the 30th of December.
M.]
1034 (return)
[ This was an anniversary tradition celebrated across the empire on December 30th. M.]
1035 (return)
[ About $132,000.]
1035 (__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__)
[ Around $132,000.]
1036 (return)
[ About $80,000.]
1036 (__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__)
[ About $80,000.]
1037 (return)
[ About $400,000. To
those who are not acquainted with the immense riches of the ancients, it
may seem incredible that a city, and not the capital one either, of a
conquered province should expend so large a sum of money upon only the
shell (as it appears to be) of a theatre: but Asia was esteemed the most
considerable part of the world for wealth; its fertility and exportations
(as Tully observes) exceeding that of all other countries. M.]
1037 (return)
[ About $400,000. To those who aren't familiar with the immense wealth of the ancients, it might seem unbelievable that a city, and not even the capital of a conquered province, would spend such a large amount of money just on what looks like the shell of a theater. However, Asia was regarded as the most significant part of the world in terms of wealth; its productivity and exports (as Tully notes) surpassed those of all other regions. M.]
1038 (return)
[ The word carte, in
the original, comprehends more than what we call the pit in our theatres,
as at means the whole space lit which the spectators sat. These theatres
being open at the top, the galleries here mentioned were for the
convenience of retiring in bad weather. M.]
1038 (return)
[ The word "carte" in the original refers to more than just the pit in our theaters; it means the entire area that was lit where the audience sat. These theaters were open-topped, and the galleries mentioned here were for the convenience of retreating in bad weather. M.]
1039 (return)
[ A place in which the
athletic exercises were performed, and where the philosophers also used to
read their lectures. M.]
1039 (return)
[ A place where sports activities took place, and where philosophers would also give their lectures. M.]
1040 (return)
[ The Roman foot
consisted of 11.71 inches of our standard, M.]
1040 (return)
[ The Roman foot measured 11.71 inches in our standard measurement, M.]
1041 (return)
[ A colony in the
district of Cataonia, in Cappadocia.]
1041 (return)
[ A settlement in the
region of Cataonia, in Cappadocia.]
1042 (return)
[ The honorary
senators, that is, such who were not received into the council of the city
by election, but by the appointment of the emperor, paid a certain sum of
money upon their admission into the senate. M.]
1042 (return)
[ The honorary senators, meaning those who weren’t elected to the city council but were appointed by the emperor, paid a certain amount of money when they joined the senate. M.]
1043 (return)
[ "Graeculi. Even under
the empire, with its relaxed morality and luxurious tone, the Romans
continued to apply this contemptuous designation to people to whom they
owed what taste for art and culture they possessed." Church and Brodribb.]
1043 (return)
[ "Graeculi. Even during the empire, with its laid-back morals and lavish lifestyle, the Romans still used this scornful term for the people to whom they owed their appreciation of art and culture." Church and Brodribb.]
1044 (return)
[ A Roman cubit is
equal to a foot 5.406 inches of our measure. Arbuthanot's Tab. M.]
1044 (return)
[ A Roman cubit equals 1 foot 5.406 inches in our measurement. Arbuthanot's Tab. M.]
1045 (return)
[ About $480.]
1045 (__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__)
[ About $480.]
1046 (return)
[ About $120.]
1046 (__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__)
[ Approximately $120.]
1047 (return)
[ A diploma is properly
a grant of certain privileges either to particular places or persons. It
signifies also grants of other kinds; and it sometimes means
post-warrants, as, perhaps, it does in this place. M.]
1047 (return)
[ A diploma is essentially a document that provides specific rights to certain locations or individuals. It can also refer to other types of grants; in some cases, it may mean post-warrants, as it likely does here. M.]
1049 (return)
[ Cybele, Rhea, or Ops,
as she is otherwise called; from whom, according to the pagan creed, the
rest of the gods are supposed to have descended. M.]
1049 (return)
[Cybele, Rhea, or Ops, as she is also known; from whom, according to pagan belief, the other gods are thought to have descended. M.]
1040b (return)
[ Whatever was
legally consecrated was ever afterwards unapplicable to profane uses. M.]
1040b (return)
[ Anything that was legally sanctified could never be used for ordinary purposes. M.]
1041b (return)
[ That is, a city not
admitted to enjoy the laws and privileges of Rome. M.]
1041b (return)
[ That is, a city that isn't recognized as having the laws and privileges of Rome. M.]
1042b (return)
[ The reason why they
did not choose to borrow of the public at the same rate of interest which
they paid to private persons was (as one of the Commentators observes)
because in the former instance they were obliged to give security, whereas
in the latter they could raise money upon their personal credit. M.]
1042b (return)
[ The reason they didn’t choose to borrow from the public at the same interest rate they paid to private individuals was (as one of the commentators notes) because in the former case, they had to provide collateral, while in the latter, they could secure funds based on their personal credit. M.]
1043b (return)
[ These, in the
original institution as settled by Augustus, were only commanders of his
body-guards; but in the later times of the Roman empire they were next in
authority under the emperor, to whom they seem to have acted as a sort of
prime ministers. M.]
1043b (return)
[ Originally, these were just leaders of Augustus's bodyguards; however, in the later periods of the Roman Empire, they were the highest authority under the emperor and acted like prime ministers. M.]
1044b (return)
[ The provinces were
divided into, a kind of circuits called conventus, whither the proconsuls
used to go in order to administer justice. The judges here mentioned must
not be understood to mean the same sort of judicial officers as with us:
they rather answered to our juries. M.]
1044b (return)
[ The provinces were divided into circuits called conventus, where the proconsuls would go to administer justice. The judges mentioned here shouldn't be understood as the same type of judicial officers we have today; they were more akin to our juries. M.]
1045b (return)
[ By the imperial
constitutions the philosophers were exempted from all public functions.
Catariscus. M.]
1045b (return)
[ According to the imperial constitutions, philosophers were exempt from all public duties. Catariscus. M.]
1046b (return)
[ About $24,000.]
1046b (__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__)
[ About $24,000.]
1047b (return)
[ Geographers are not
agreed where to place this city; Cellarius conjectures it may possibly be
the same with Prusa ad Olympum, Prusa at the foot of Mount Olympus in
Mysia.]
1047b (return)
[ Geographers don't agree on where to locate this city; Cellarius suggests it might be the same as Prusa ad Olympum, which is Prusa at the base of Mount Olympus in Mysia.]
1048b (return)
[ Domitian.]
1048b (__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__)
[Domitian.]
1049b (return)
[ That is, whether
they should be considered in a state of freedom or slavery. M.]
1049b (return)
[ That is, whether they should be viewed as free individuals or enslaved. M.]
1050 (return)
[ "Parents throughout
the entire ancient world had the right to expose their children and leave
them to their fate. Hence would sometimes arise the question whether such
a child, if found and brought up by another, was entitled to his freedom,
whether also the person thus adopting him must grant him his freedom
without repayment for the cost of maintenance." Church and Brodribb.]
1050 (return)
[ "In ancient times, parents everywhere had the right to abandon their children and leave them to their fate. This sometimes raised the question of whether a child who was found and raised by someone else was entitled to their freedom, and whether the adopting person had to give them their freedom without being repaid for the cost of raising them." Church and Brodribb.]
1051 (return)
[ "This decision of
Trajan, the effect of which would be that persons would be slow to adopt
an abandoned child which, when brought up, its natural parents could
claim back without any compensation for its nurture, seems harsh, and we
find that it was disregarded by the later emperors in their legal
decisions on the subject." Church and Brodribb.]
1051 (return)
[ "Trajan's decision meant that people would hesitate to adopt an abandoned child, as the biological parents could reclaim the child later without paying anything for the care provided. This seems unfair, and we see that later emperors ignored it in their legal rulings on the matter." Church and Brodribb.]
1052 (return)
[ And consequently by
the Roman laws unapplicable to any other purpose. M.]
1052 (return)
[ And therefore, according to Roman laws, it cannot be used for any other purpose. M.]
1053 (return)
[ The Roman provinces
in the times of the emperors were of two sorts: those which were
distinguished by the name of the provinciae Cæsaris and the provinciae
senatus. The provinciae Cæsaris, or imperial provinces, were such as the
emperor, for reasons of policy, reserved to his own immediate
administration, or of those whom he thought proper to appoint: the
provinciae senatus, or proconsular provinces, were such as he left to the
government of proconsuls or praetors, chosen in the ordinary method of
election. (Vid. Suet, in Aug. V. 47.) Of the former kind was Bithynis, at
the time when our author presided there. (Vid. Masson. Vit. Plin. p. 133.)
M.]
1053 (return)
[ The Roman provinces during the reign of the emperors were of two types: those known as the provinciae Cæsaris and the provinciae senatus. The provinciae Cæsaris, or imperial provinces, were directly managed by the emperor for reasons of governance or by those he deemed suitable to appoint. The provinciae senatus, or proconsular provinces, were managed by proconsuls or praetors elected through the usual voting process. (See Suet, in Aug. V. 47.) One example of the former type was Bithynia, at the time when our author was in charge there. (See Masson. Vit. Plin. p. 133.) M.]
1054 (return)
[ A province in Asia,
bordering upon the Black Sea, and by some ancient geographers considered
as one province with Bithynia. M.]
1054 (return)
[ A province in Asia, bordering the Black Sea, and by some ancient geographers regarded as one province with Bithynia. M.]
1055 (return)
[ About $2,000. M.]
1055 (__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__)
[ About $2,000. ]
1056 (return)
[ Cities of Pontus near
the Euxine or Black Sea. M.]
1056 (return)
[Cities of Pontus near the Euxine or Black Sea. M.]
1057 (return)
[ Gordium, the old
capital of Phrygia. It afterwards, in the reign of the Emperor Augustus,
received the name of Juliopolis. (See Smith's Classical Diet.)]
1057 (return)
[ Gordium, the ancient capital of Phrygia. Later, during the reign of Emperor Augustus, it was renamed Juliopolis. (See Smith's Classical Dictionary.)]
1058 (return)
[ Pompey the Great
having subdued Mithridates, and by that means enlarged the Roman empire,
passed several laws relating to the newly conquered provinces, and, among
others, that which is here mentioned. M.]
1058 (return)
[ Pompey the Great, having defeated Mithridates and thereby expanded the Roman Empire, enacted several laws regarding the newly conquered provinces, including the one mentioned here. M.]
1059 (return)
[ The right of electing
Senators did not originally belong to the censors, who were only, as
Cicero somewhere calls them, guardians of the discipline and manners of
the city; but in process of time they engrossed the whole privilege of
conferring that honour. M.]
1059 (return)
[ The authority to elect Senators didn't originally belong to the censors, who were merely, as Cicero refers to them, custodians of the city's discipline and conduct; however, over time they took over the entire privilege of granting that honor. M.]
1060 (return)
[ This, probably, was
some act whereby the city was to ratify and confirm the proceedings of
Dion under the commission assigned to him.]
1060 (return)
[ This was likely some action for the city to approve and confirm the actions taken by Dion under the authority given to him.]
1061 (return)
[ It was a notion which
generally prevailed with the ancients, in the Jewish as well as heathen
world, that there was a pollution in the contact of dead bodies, and this
they extended to the very house in which the corpse lay, and even to the
uncovered vessels that stood in the same room. (Vid. Pot. Antiq. V. II.
181.) From some such opinion as this it is probable that the circumstance,
here mentioned, of placing Trajan's statue where these bodies were
deposited, was esteemed as a mark of disrespect to his person.]
1061 (return)
[ It was a commonly held belief among ancient cultures, both Jewish and pagan, that there was a defilement associated with touching dead bodies. This belief extended to the very house where the corpse was located and even to the uncovered items in the same room. (See Pot. Antiq. V. II. 181.) Based on a belief like this, it’s likely that putting Trajan's statue in the location where these bodies were buried was seen as a sign of disrespect to him.]
1062 (return)
[ A thriving Greek
colony in the territory of Sinopis, on the Euxine.]
1062 (return)
[ A successful Greek colony in the area of Sinopis, by the Black Sea.]
1063 (return)
[ A colony of Athenians
in the province of Pontus. Their town, Amisus, on the coast, was one of
the residences of Mithridates.]
1063 (return)
[ A settlement of Athenians in the region of Pontus. Their city, Amisus, located by the coast, was one of the homes of Mithridates.]
1064 (return)
[ Casaubon, in his
observations upon Theophrastus (as cited by one of the commentators)
informs us that there were at Athens and other cities of Greece Certain
fraternities which paid into a common chest a monthly contribution towards
the support of such of their members who had fallen into misfortunes; upon
condition that, if ever they arrived to more prosperous circumstances,
they should repay into the general fund the money so advanced. M.]
1064 (return)
[ Casaubon, in his observations on Theophrastus (as mentioned by one of the commentators), tells us that there were fraternities in Athens and other Greek cities that contributed a monthly fee to a common fund to support members who faced hardships; on the condition that, if they ever became more financially secure, they would repay the amount they received back into the fund. M.]
1065 (return)
[ By the law for
encouragement of matrimony (some account of which has already been given
in the notes above), as a penalty upon those who lived bachelors, they
were declared incapable of inheriting any legacy by will; so likewise, if
being married, they had no children, they could not claim the full
advantage of benefactions of that kind.]
1065 (return)
[ According to the law meant to promote marriage (which has been discussed in the notes above), bachelors were stripped of their right to inherit any legacy through a will. Similarly, if they were married but had no children, they couldn’t fully benefit from such gifts.]
1066 (return)
[ This letter is
esteemed as almost the only genuine monument of ecclesiastical antiquity
relating to the times immediately succeeding the Apostles, it being
written at most not above forty years after the death of St. Paul. It was
preserved by the Christians themselves as a clear and unsuspicious
evidence of the purity of their doctrines, and is frequently appealed to
by the early writers of the Church against the calumnies of their
adversaries. M.]
1066 (return)
[ This letter is considered one of the few authentic records from the early Church after the Apostles, written no more than forty years after St. Paul’s death. It was kept by Christians as a clear and trustworthy proof of their beliefs and is often referenced by early Church writers to counter the accusations of their opponents. M.]
1067 (return)
[ It was one of the
privileges of a Roman citizen, secured by the Semprorian law, that he
could not be capitally convicted but by the suffrage of the people; which
seems to have been still so far in force as to make it necessary to send
the persons here mentioned to Rome. M.]
1067 (return)
[ One of the rights of a Roman citizen, guaranteed by the Sempronian law, was that he could not be sentenced to death without a vote from the people; and it appears that this rule was still in effect, making it necessary to send the individuals mentioned here to Rome. M.]
1068 (return)
[ These women, it is
supposed, exercised the same office as Phoebe mentioned by St. Paul, whom
he styles deaconess of the church of Cenchrea. Their business was to tend
the poor and sick, and other charitable offices; as also to assist at the
ceremony of female baptism, for the more decent performance of that rite:
as Vossius observes upon this passage. M.]
1068 (return)
[ These women were believed to have served the same role as Phoebe mentioned by St. Paul, whom he calls the deaconess of the church of Cenchrea. Their responsibilities included caring for the poor and sick, as well as performing other charitable duties; they also assisted in the ceremony of female baptism to ensure the rite was conducted more appropriately, as noted by Vossius in his commentary on this passage. M.]
1069 (return)
[ If we impartially
examine this prosecution of the Christians, we shall find it to have been
grounded on the ancient constitution of the state, and not to have
proceeded from a cruel or arbitrary temper in Trajan. The Roman
legislature appears to have been early jealous of any innovation in point
of public worship; and we find the magistrates, during the old republic
frequently interposing in cases of that nature. Valerius Maximus has
collected some instances to that purpose (L. I. C. 3), and Livy mentions
it as an established principle of the earlier ages of the commonwealth, to
guard against the introduction of foreign ceremonies of religion. It was
an old and fixed maxim likewise of the Roman government not to suffer any
unlicensed assemblies of the people. From hence it seems evident that the
Christians had rendered themselves obnoxious not so much to Trajan as to
the ancient and settled laws of the state, by introducing a foreign
worship, and assembling themselves without authority. M.]
1069 (return)
[ If we take a fair look at the prosecution of the Christians, we’ll find it rooted in the longstanding laws of the state, rather than stemming from any cruel or arbitrary disposition in Trajan. The Roman government was historically wary of any changes to public worship, and we see magistrates of the early republic frequently intervening in such matters. Valerius Maximus has compiled several examples of this (L. I. C. 3), and Livy notes that it was a well-established principle in the early days of the republic to prevent the introduction of foreign religious practices. It was also an old and firm rule of the Roman government not to allow any unauthorized gatherings of the people. Therefore, it seems clear that the Christians had made themselves targets not so much because of Trajan, but due to the ancient and established laws of the state, by bringing in foreign worship and gathering without permission. M.]
1071 (return)
[ By the Papian law,
which passed in the consulship of M. Papius Mutilus and Q. Poppeas
Secundus, u. c. 761, if a freedman died worth a hundred thousand sesterces
(or about $4,000 of our money), leaving only one child, his patron (that
is, the master from whom he received his liberty) was entitled to half his
estate; if he left two children, to one-third; but if more than two, then
the patron was absolutely excluded. This was afterwards altered by
Justinian, Inst. 1. III. tit. 8. M.]
1071 (return)
[ According to the Papian law, which was enacted during the consulship of M. Papius Mutilus and Q. Poppeas Secundus in 761 A.U.C., if a freedman died with a fortune of a hundred thousand sesterces (around $4,000 today), leaving only one child, his patron (the master who granted him freedom) was entitled to half of his estate. If he had two children, the patron received one-third; but if there were more than two, the patron was completely excluded. This was later changed by Justinian, Inst. 1. III. tit. 8. M.]
1072 (return)
[ About $7,000.]
1072 (__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__)
[ About $7K.]
1073 (return)
[ About $175]
1073 (__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__)
[ About $175]
1074 (return)
[ About $350.]
1074 (__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__)
[About $350.]
1075 (return)
[ The denarius=7 cents.
The sum total, then, distributed among one thousand persons at the rate
of, say, two denara a piece would amount to about $350.]
1075 (return)
[ The denarius = 7 cents.
So, if you divide the total sum among one thousand people at a rate of about two denarii each, it would come to around $350.]
1076 (return)
[ These games are
called Iselastic from the Greek word invehor, because the victors, drawn
by white horses, and wearing crowns on their heads, were conducted with
great pomp into their respective cities, which they entered through a
breach in the walls made for that purpose; intimating, as Plutarch
observes, that a City which produced such able and victorious citizens,
had little occasion for the defence of walls (Catanaeus). They received
also annually a certain honourable stipend from the public. M.]
1076 (return)
[ These games are called Iselastic from the Greek word invehor, because the winners, drawn by white horses and wearing crowns on their heads, were brought in with great ceremony into their cities, which they entered through a specially made breach in the walls; indicating, as Plutarch notes, that a city which produced such skilled and victorious citizens had little need for defensive walls (Catanaeus). They also received an annual honorable stipend from the public. M.]
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