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Title: Letters of Pliny

Author: the Younger Pliny

Editor: F. C. T. Bosanquet

Translator: William Melmoth

Release date: September 1, 2001 [eBook #2811]
Most recently updated: November 11, 2018

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/2811

Credits: Produced by David Reed and David Widger

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LETTERS OF
PLINY ***

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.
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.

CONTENTS

LETTERS GAIUS PLINIUS CAECILIUS
SECUNDUS
I — To SEPTITTUS
II — To ARRIANUS
III — To VOCONIUS ROMANUS
IV — To CORNELIUS TACITUS
V — To POMPEIUS SATURNINUS
VI — To ATRIUS CLEMENS
VII — To FABIUS JUSTUS
VIII — To CALESTRIUS TIRO
IX — To SOCIUS SENECIO
X — To JUNSUS MAURICUS
XI — To SEPTITIUS CLARUS
XII — To SUETONIUS TRANQUILLUS
XIII — To ROMANUS FIRMUS
XIV — TO CORNELIUS TACITUS
XV — To PATERNUS
XVI — To CATILIUS SEVERUS [27]
XVII — To VOCONIUS ROMANUS
XVIII — To NEPOS
XIX — To AVITUS
XX — To MACRINUS
XXI — To PAISCUS

XXII — To MAIMUS
XXIII — To GALLUS
XXIV — To CEREALIS
XXV — To CALVISIUS
XXVI — To CALVISIUS
XXVII — To BAEBIUS MACER
XXVIII — To ANNIUS SEVERUS
XXIX — To CANINIUS RUFUS
XXX — To SPURINNA AND COTTIA[53]
XXXI — To JULIUS GENITOR
XXXII — To CATILIUS SEVERUS
XXXIII — To ACILIUS
XXXIV — To NEPOS
XXXV — To SEVERUS
XXXVI — To CALVISIUS RUFUS
XXXVII — To CORNELIUS PRISCUS
XXXVIII — To FABATUS (HIS WIFE'S GRANDFATHER)
XXXIX — To ATTIUS CLEMENS
XL — To CATIUS LEPIDUS
XLI — To MATURUS ARRIANUS
XLII — To STATIUS SABINUS
XLIII — To CORNELIUS MINICIANUS
XLV — To ASINIUS

XLVI — To HISPULLA
XLVII — To ROMATIUS FIASIUS
XLVIII — To LICINIUS SURA
XLIX — To ANNIUS SEVERUS
L — To TITIUS ARISTO
LI — To NONIUS MAXIMUS
LII — To DOMITIUS APOLLINARIS
LIII — To CALVISIUS
LIV — To MARCELLINUS
LV — To SPURINNA
LVI — To PAULINUS
LVII — To RUFUS
LVIII — To ARRIANUS
LIX — To CALPURNIA[88]
LX — To CALPURNIA
LXI — To PRISCUS
LXII — To ALBINUS
LXIII — To MAXIMUS
LXIV — To ROMANUS
LXV — To TACITUS
LXVI — To CORNELIUS TACITUS
LX VII — To MACER
LXVIII — To SERVIANUS

LXIX — To SEVERUS
LXX — To FABATUS
LXXI — To CORNELIANUS
LXXII — To MAXIMUS
LXXIII — To RESTITUTUS
LXXIV — To CALPURNIA[111]
LXXV — To MACRINUS
LXXVI — To TUSCUS
LXX VII — To FABATUS (HIS WIFE'S GRANDFATHER)
LXXVIII — To CORELLIA
LXXIX — To CELER
LXXX — To PRISCUS
LXXXI — To GEMINIUS
LXXXII — To MAXIMUS
LXXXIII — To SURA
LXXXIV — To SEPTITIUS
LXXXV — To TACITUS
LXXX VI — To SEPTITIUS
LXXXVII — To CALVISIUS
LXXX VIII — To ROMANUS
LXXXIX — To ARISTO
XC — To PATERNUS
XCI — To MACRINUS

XCII — To RUFINUS
XCIII — To GALLUS
XCIV — To ARRIANUS
XCV — To MAXIMUS
XCVI — To PAULINUS
XCVII — To CALVISIUS
XCVIII — To ROMANUS
XCIX — To GEMINUS
C — To JUNIOR
CI — To QUADRATUS
CII — To GENITOR
CIII — To SABINIANUS
CIV — To MAXIMUS
CV — To SABINIANUS
CVI — To LUPERCUS
CVII — To CANINIUS
CVIII — To Fuscus
CIX — To PAULINUS
CX — To FUSCUS
FOOTNOTES TO THE LETTERS OF PLINY]

CORRESPONDENCE WITH THE EMPEROR
TRAJAN

I — TO THE EMPEROR TRAJAN[1001]
II — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
III — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
IV — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
V — TRAJAN TO PLINY
VI — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
VII — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
VIII — TRAJAN TO PLINY
X — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
XI — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
XII — TRAJAN TO PLINY
XIII — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
XIV — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
XV — TRAJAN TO PLINY
XVI — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
XVII — TRAJAN TO PLINY
XVIII — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
XIX — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
XX — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
XXI — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
XXII — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
XXIII — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
XXIV — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN

XXV — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
XXVI — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
XXVII — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
XXVIII — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
XXIX — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
XXX — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
XXXI — TRAJAN TO PLINY
XXXII — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
XXXIII — TRAJAN TO PLINY
XXXIV — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
XXXV — TRAJAN TO PLINY
XXXVI — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
XXX VII — TRAJAN TO PLINY
XXXVIII To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
XXXIX — TRAJAN TO PLINY
XL — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
XLI — TRAJAN TO PLINY
XLII — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
XLIII — TRAJAN TO PLINY
XLIV — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
XLV — TRAJAN TO PLINY
XLVI — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
XLVII — TRAJAN TO PLINY

XLVIII — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
XLIX — TRAJAN TO PLINY
L — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
LI — TRAJAN TO PLINY
LII — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
LIII — TRAJAN TO PLINY
LIV — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
LV — TRAJAN TO PLINY
LVI — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
LVII — TRAJAN TO PLINY
LVIII — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
LIX — TRAJAN TO PLINY
LX — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
LXI — TRAJAN TO PLINY
LXII — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
LXIII — TRAJAN TO PLINY
LXIV — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
LXV — TRAJAN TO PLINY
LXVI — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
LXVII — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
LX VIII — TRAJAN TO PLINY
LXIX — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
LXX — TRAJAN TO PLINY

LXXI — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
LXXII TRAJAN TO PLINY
LXXIII — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
LXX IV — TRAJAN TO PLINY
LXXV — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
LXXVI — TRAJAN TO PLINY
LXXVII — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
LXXVIII — TRAJAN TO PLINY
LXXIX — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
LXXX — TRAJAN TO PLINY
LXXXI — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
LXXXII — TRAJAN TO PLINY
LXXXIII — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
LXXXIV — TRAJAN TO PLINY
LXXXV — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
LXXXVI — TRAJAN TO PLINY
LXXXVII — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
LXXXVIII — TRAJAN TO PLINY
LXXXIX — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
XC — TRAJAN TO PLINY
XCI — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
XCII — TRAJAN TO PLINY
XCIII — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN

XCIV — TRAJAN TO PLINY
XCV — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
XCVI — TRAJAN TO PLINY
XCVII To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
XCVIII — TRAJAN TO PLINY
XCIX — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
C — TRAJAN TO PLINY
CI To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
CII — TRAJAN TO PLINY
CIII — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
CIV — TRAJAN TO PLINY
CV — To TIlE EMPEROR TRAJAN
CVI — TRAJAN TO PLINY
CVII — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
CVIII — TRAJAN TO PLINY
CIX — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
CX — TRAJAN TO PLINY
CXI — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
CXII — TRAJAN TO PLINY
CXIII — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
CXIV — TRAJAN TO PLINY
CXV — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
CXVI — TRAJAN TO PLINY

CXVII — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
CXVIII — TRAJAN TO PLINY
CXIX — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
CXX — TRAJAN TO PLINY
CXXI — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
CXXII — TRAJAN TO PLINY
FOOTNOTES TO THE CORRESPONDENCE WITH THE
EMPEROR TRAJAN

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.
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.

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.
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.

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:

"For dreams descend 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,

"Without a sign, his sword the brave man draws,
And asks 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.

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.

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

"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."

[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:

"His mighty words like Jove's own thunder roll;
Greece hears, and trembles to her inmost 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:

"Frequent and soft, as falls the winter snow,
Thus from his lips the copious periods flow."

Not but that I extremely admire him,[26] too, of whom the poet says,

"Few were his words, but wonderfully strong."

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.
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.

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.

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.

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.

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.
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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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!
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.

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.

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.

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.

"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]

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

XLIII — To CORNELIUS MINICIANUS
[68]
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,

"She took great care to fall with decency."[70]

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.
"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.

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.

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.

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.
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.

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.

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.

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.

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 —
"Who swayed 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.

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:

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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, —

"Long as Achilles breathes this vital air,
To touch thy head no impious hand shall dare."[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.

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:

"Here Rufus lies, who Vindex' arms withstood,
Not for himself, but for his country's good."

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.

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.

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:

"Priscus, at thy 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.

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.

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:

"Though my shock'd soul recoils, my tongue shall tell."

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.
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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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?)

"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."

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

"The brave and mean an equal honour find."[127]

Farewell.

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.

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.
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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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]
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.

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,
"'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."
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:

"Great perils, father, wait the unequal fight;
Those younger champions will thy strength o'ercome."[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.

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?"
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.

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.

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.

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.

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.
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.

"Heav'n in loud thunder bids the trumpet sound;
And wide beneath them groans the rending ground."[153]

Again,

"Reclin'd on clouds his steed and armour lay."[154]

So in this passage:

"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."

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.

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.

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.
—

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.

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.
]

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.]
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.]
3 (return)
[ An allusion to a wound he had received in the war between
Vitellius and Vespasian.]
4 (return)
[ A brother of Piso Galba's adopted son. He was put to death
by Nero.]
5 (return)
[ Sulpicius Camerinus, put to death by the same emperor,
upon some frivolous 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.]
7 (return)
[ Junius Mauricus, the brother of Rusticus Arulenus. Both
brothers were sentenced on the same day, Arulenue to
execution and Mauricui 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.]
9 (return)
[ The Decurii were a sort of senators 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.]
11 (return)
[ A pleader and historian of some distinction, mentioned by
Tacitus, Ann. XIV. 19, and by Quintilian, X, I, 102.]
12 (return)
[ Padua.]
13 (return)
[ Domitian]
14 (return)
[ Iliad, XII. 243. Pope.]
15 (return)
[ Equal to about $4,000 of our money. After the reign of
Augustus the value 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.]
17 (return)
[ An elegant Attic orator, remarkable for the grace and
lucidity of his style, also for his vivid and accurate
delineations of character.]
18 (return)
[ A graceful and powerful orator, and friend of
Densosthenes.]
19 (return)
[ A Roman orator of the Augustan age. He was a poet and
historian as well, but gained most distinction 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.]
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.]
22 (return)
[ A contemporary and rival of Aristophanes.]
23 (return)
[ Aristophanes, Ach. 531]
24 (return)
[ Thersites. Iliad, II. V. 212.]
25 (return)
[ Ulysses. Iliad, III. V. 222.]
26 (return)
[ Menelaua. Iliad, III. V. 214.]
27 (return)
[ Great-grandfather of the Emperor M. Aurelius.]
28 (return)
[ An eminent lawyer of Trajan's reign.]
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.]
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.)]
31 (return)
[ Nerva.]
32 (return)
[ 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.]
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.]
35 (return)
[ A people of Germany.]
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.]
37 (return)
[ 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.]
39 (return)
[ About 54 cents.]
40 (return)
[ 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.]
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.]
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.]
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.]
45 (return)
[ $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).]
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.]
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."]
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.]
50 (return)
[ $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.]
52 (return)
[ Trajan.]
53 (return)
[ Spurinna's wife.]
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.]
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.]
56 (return)
[ 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.]
58 (return)
[ About $500,000.]
59 (return)
[ About $800,000.]
60 (return)
[ One of the famous seven hills upon which Rome was
situated.]
61 (return)
[ Mart. LX. 19.]
62 (return)
[ Calpurnia, Pliny's wife.]
63 (return)
[ Now Citta di Castello.]
64 (return)
[ The Romans had an absolute power over their children, of
which no age or station of the latter deprived them.]

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.]
66 (return)
[ Trajan.]
67 (return)
[ A slave was incapable of property; and, therefore, whatever
he acquired became the right of his 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.]
69 (return)
[ It was usual with Domitian to triumph, not only without a
victory, but even after a defeat, M.]
70 (return)
[ Euripides' Hecuba,]
71 (return)
[ The punishment inflicted upon the violators of Vestal
chastity was to be scourged to death. M.]
72 (return)
[ Calpurnia, Pliny's wife.]
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.]
74 (return)
[ In the original, scrinium, box for holding MSS.]

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.]
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.]
77 (return)
[ "This is said in allusion to the idea of Nemesis supposed to
threaten excessive prosperity." (Church and Brodribb.)]
78 (return)
[ About $15,000.]
79 (return)
[ 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.]
81 (return)
[ The Roman physicians used to send their patients in
consumptive cases into Egypt, particularly to Alexandria.
M.]
82 (return)
[ Frejus, in Provence, the southern part of France. M.]
83 (return)
[ A court of justice erected by Julius Cæsar in the forum, and
opposite to 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.]
85 (return)
[ 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.]
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.)]
88 (return)
[ His wife.]
89 (return)
[ Hom. II. lib, I. V. 88.]
90 (return)
[ Now Alzia, not far from Corno.]
91 (return)
[ Nevertheless, Javolentis Priscus was one of the most
eminent lawyers of his time, and is frequently quoted in the
Digesta of Justinian.]
92 (return)
[ In the Bay of Naples.]
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.]
94 (return)
[ Now called 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.]
96 (return)
[ The 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.]
98 (return)
[ 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.]
100 (return)
[ So called, because it formerly belonged to Camillus. M.]
101 (return)
[ Civita Vecchia.]
102 (return)
[ Trajan.]
103 (return)
[ An officer in the Roman legions, answering in some sort 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.]
105 (return)
[ An officer employed by the emperor to receive and
regulate the public revenue in the provinces. M.]
106 (return)
[ Comprehending Transylvania, Moldavia, and Walaehia.
M.]
107 (return)
[ Polycletus was a freedman, and great favourite 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.]
109 (return)
[ 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.]
111 (return)
[ His wife.]
112 (return)
[ See book V. letter XX.]

113 (return)
[ Trajan.]
114 (return)
[ One of the Bithynians employed to manage the trial. M.]
115 (return)
[ About $28,000.]
116 (return)
[ About $26,000.]
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.]
118 (return)
[ The priests, as well as other magistrates, exhibited public
games to the people when they entered upon their 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.]
120 (return)
[ A Stoic philosopher and native of Tarsus. He was tutor for
some time to Octavius, afterwards Augustus, Cæsar.]
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.]
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.]
123 (return)
[ It was a doctrine maintained by the Stoics that all crimes
are equal M.]
124 (return)
[ About $400.]
125 (return)
[ About $600.]
126 (return)
[ About $93.]
127 (return)
[ Hom. II. lib. IX. V. 319.]

128 (return)
[ Those of Nero and Domitian. M.]
129 (return)
[ When Nerva and Trajan received the empire. M.]
130 (return)
[ A slave could acquire no property, and consequently was
incapable bylaw of making a will. M.]
131 (return)
[ Now called Amelia, a town in Ombria. M.]
132 (return)
[ Now Laghetto di Bassano. M.]
133 (return)
[ A province 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.]
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.]
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.]
137 (return)
[ 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.]
139 (return)
[ Helvidius.]
140 (return)
[ Upon the accession of Nerva to the empire, after the death
of Domitian. M.]
142 (return)
[ Our authors first wife; of whom we have no particular
account. After her death, he married his favourite 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.]
144 (return)
[ Aeneid, LIB. VI. V. 105.]
145 (return)
[ Arria and Fannia.]
146 (return)
[ The appellation by which the senate was addressed. 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.]
148 (return)
[ Diomed's speech to Nestor, advising him to retire from the
field of battle. Iliad, VIII. 302. Pope. M.]
149 (return)
[ Nerva.]
150 (return)
[ Domitian; by whom he had been appointed consul elect,
though he had not yet entered upon that office. 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.]
152 (return)
[ See letter CIII.]
153 (return)
[ Iliad, XXI. 387. Pope. M.]
154 (return)
[ Iliad, V. 356, speaking of 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.]
156 (return)
[ See 1st Philippic.]
157 (return)
[ See Demosthenes' speech in defence of Cteisphon.]
158 (return)
[ See end Olynthiac.]

159 (return)
[ See Aesehines' 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.]
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:

"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.]

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.]

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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]

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.

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.

XIII — To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
[1009]
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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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]

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.

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.

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.

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.

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]

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.
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
"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."
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."
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."

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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]

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.

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.

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.

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]

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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!

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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]

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.

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