Ex Libris C. K. OGDEN THE LIT? HP HP ijj JL OF PLINY. I J. WRIGHT, Printer, 2?o. 38, St. John's Sguare, Clerkenwett. THE LETTERS OF PLINY THE CONSUL. BY WILLIAM MELMOTH, ESQ. THE TENTH EDITION, KEVJSED AND CORRECTED. VOL. I. LONDON: PRINTED FOR LACKINGTON, ALLEN, AND CO. J CADELL AND DAVIESJ LONGMAN AND CO.; W. J. AND J. RICHARDSON; VERNOR AND HOOD; OTRIDGE AND SON; CUTHELL AND MARTINA CARTON AND HARVEY; OGILVY AND SON; J.NUKN; J.WALKER; R. LEA ; i E. BOQKER ; AND J. ASPERNE. 1805. THE v.\ PREFACE. 1 LINT may be considered in these Letters as writing his own memoirs ; every epistle is a kind of historical sketch, wherein we have a view of him in some striking atti- tude, either of active or contemplative life. And if that were his real design in their publication, he could not, it should seem, have taken a more agreeable, or, perhaps, a more modest method of transmitting him- self to posterity. To enter, therefore, into a detail concerning him, would be only an- ticipating the Author himself, and amusing the Reader with a copy, while the original stands before him. Nothing seems requi- site to be farther added to the piece, than just to mark the date : PLINY was born in the reign of NERO, about the eight hundred and fifteenth year of Rome, and the sixty- r^vf " ~ vi THE PREFACE. second of the Christian aera. As to the time of his death, antiquity has given us no information ; but it is conjectured he died either a little before, or soon after the de- cease of that excellent prince, the admirable TRAJAN; that is, about the year of CHRIST one hundred and sixteen. The elegance of this Author's manner* adds force to the most interesting, at the same time that it enlivens the most com- mon subjects. But the polite and spirited turn of these Letters is by no means their principal recommendation : they receive a much higher value, as they exhibit one of the most amiable and exemplary characters in all antiquity. PLINY'S whole life seems to have been employed in the exercise of every generous and social virtue. To for- ward modest merit, to encourage ingenious talents, to vindicate oppressed innocence, are some of the glorious purposes to which he devoted his power, his fortune, and his 1 abilities. THE PREFACE vii abilities. But how does he rise in our esteem and admiration, when we see him exerting (with a grace that discovers his humanity as well as his politeness) the no- blest acts both of public and private muni- ficence, not so much from the abundance of his wealth, as the wisdom of his ceco?- iiomy ! What a celebrated ancient has observed concerning the style of the famous Grecian painter TIMANTHES, is applicable to that of PLINY, intelligitur plus semper quam pin- gitur; his meaning is generally much fuller than his expression. This, as it heighten? the difficulty of his interpreter's task, so it necessarily gives great scope to an objector. But in drawing after these excellent masters of antiquity, the most successful are only, perhaps, the most excusable ; as those who have the truest taste of their works, will least expect to see the strength and spirit of them fully preserved in a copy. This, how- ever, via THE PREFACE. ever, is not mentioned as claiming indul- gence to any errors in the present attempt : on the contrary, they are willingly resigned to just correction. A true critic is a kind of censor in the republic of letters ; and none who wish well to its interests, would desire to suppress or restrain his office. The translator, at least, has received too much advantage in the course of this perform- ance, from the animadversions of some of the best judges in both languages, not to value that enlightening art, wherever it may be exercised with the same accurate and candid spirit. THE THE LETTERS OF PLINY, BOOK. I. LETTER I. To SEPTITIUS. You have frequently pressed me to make a se- lect collection of my Letters (if, in truth, there be any which deserve a preference) and give them to the public. I have selected them ac- cordingly ; not, indeed, in their proper order of time, for I was not compiling a history ; but just as they presented themselves to my hands. 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 en- quire aftef the rest, which at present lie neglect- ed, and preserve those I shall hereafter write. Farewel. VOL. I. B LETTER 10 THE LETTERS BOOK I. LETTER II. To ARIANUS. 1 FORESEE your journey hither is likely to be de- layed, 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, in any of my former speeches, attempted the same style of composi- tion ; for I have endeavoured to imitate your old favourite Domosthenes, and Carvus, who is late- ly hecome mine. When I say this, I mean only with respect to their manner ; for, to catch their sublime spirit, is given, alone, to the inspired few. My subject, indeed, seemed naturally to lead me to this (may I venture to call it?) emulation ; as it was, in general, of such a nature as demand- ed all the thunder of eloquence, even to a degree sufficient to have awakened (if it be possible) that indolence, in which I have long reposed. I have not, however, neglected the softer graces of my admired Tully, wherever I could, with pro- priety, step out of my direct road to enjoy a more flowery path : for, it was warmth, not austerity, at which I aimed. I would not have you ima- gine, by this, that I am bespeaking your indul- gence : on the contrary, to induce you to exer- cise the utmost severity of your criticism, I will confess, that neither my friends nor myself are averse BOOK I. or PLINY. 11 averse from the publication of this piece, if you should jwin with us in giving the same partial vote. The truth is, as I must publish something, I wish (and it is the wish, I confess, of indolence) it might be this performance rather than any other, merely because it is already finished. At all events, however, something I must publish, and for many reasons; chiefly, because the tracts which I have already sent into the world, though they have long since lost all their recommendation from no- velty, are still, I am told, in request ; if, indeed, the booksellers do not flatter me. And let them, since, by that innocent deceit, I am encouraged to pursue my studies. Farewel. LETTER III. To CAN INI us RUFUS. How stands Comum*, that favourite scene of yours and mine ? What becomes of the pleasant villa, the vernal portico, the shady planetree- walk, the crystal canal, so agreeably winding along its flowery banks, together with the charm- ing lake b below, which serves, at once, the pur- poses of use and beauty ? What have you to tell me * The city where Pliny was born : it still subsists, and is now called Como, situated upon the lake Larius, or Logo di Como, in the duchy of Milan. b The lake Larius, upon the banks of which this villa was situated. B2 12 THE LETTERS BOOK I. me of the firm yet soft gestatio c , the sunny bath, the public saloon, the private dining-room, and all the elegant apartments for repose, both atnoon^ and night ? Do these possess my friend, and di- vide his time with pleasing vicissitude? Or do the affairs of the world, as usual, call him frequently from this agreeable retreat ? If the scene of your enjoyments lies wholly there, you are happy : if not, you are under the common error of mankind. But leave, my friend (for certainly it is time) the sordid pursuits of life to others, and devote your- self, in this calm and undisturbed recess, entirely to pleasures of the studious kind. Let these em- ploy your idle as well as serious hours ; let them be, at once, your business and your amusement; the subjects of your waking and even sleeping thoughts : produce something that shall be really and for ever your own. All your other possessions will pass from one master to another : this alone, when once yours, will remain yours for ever. As I well know the temper and genius of him to whom I am addressing myself, I must exhort you to think of your abilities as they deserve : do justice to those excellent talents you possess, and the world, believe me, will certainly do so too. Farewel. LETTER * A piece of ground set apart for the purpose of exercising, ei- ther on horseback, or in their vehicles ; it was generally conti- guous to their gardens, and laid out in the form of a circus. d It was customary among the Romans to sleep in the middle of the day ; and they had apartments for that purpose distinct from their bedchambers. Bo OK I. OF PLINY. 13 LETTER IV. To POMPEIA CELERIXA. You might perceive, by my last short letter, I had no occasion for yours, to inform me of the various conveniences you enjoy at your several villas. The elegant accommodations which are to be found at Narnia 3 , Ocriculum b , Carsola c , Peru- sia j , particularly the pretty bath at Narnia, I am extremely well acquainted with. The fact is, I have a property in every thing which belongs to you ; and I know of no other differen9e between your house and my own, than that I am more care- fully attended in the former than the latter. You may, perhaps, have occasion to make the same ob- servation in your turn, whenever you shall give me your company here ; and I wish for it, not only that you may partake of mine with the same ease and freedom that I do of yours, but to awaken the industry of my domestics, who are grown somewhat careless in their attendance upon me. A long course of mild treatment is apt to wear out the impressions of awe in servants; whereas, new faces quicken their diligence, and they are generally more inclined to please their master by attentions to his guest, than to himself. Farewel. LETTER a Now called Narni, a city in Ombria, in the duchy of Spoleto. b Otricoli, in the same duchy. < Carsola, in the same duchy. * Perugia, in Tuscany. Bs U THE LETTERS BOOK I. LETTER V. To VOCONIUS ROMANUS. JDiD you ever see a more abject and mean-spi- rited creature than Regulus has appeared since the death of Domitian ; during whose reign his conduct was no less infamous, though more con- cealed, than under Nero's ? lie has lately expres- sed some apprehensions of my resentment: and, indeed, he has reason ; for, I look upon him with the utmost indignation. He not only promoted the prosecution against Rusticus Arulenus, but exulted in his death ; insomuch, that he actually recited and published a libel upon his memory, wherein he styles him, the stoics ape : adding, that " he was stigmated* by the wound he re- " ceived J The impropriety of this expression, in the original, seems to lie in the word stigmosum, which Regulus, probably, either coin- ed 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 the like unwarranted stamp. It is observable how careful the Romans were of preserving the purity of their language, ft seems even to have been a point which they thought worthy the attention of the state it- self; for, we find the Cumeans not daring to make use of the Latin language in their public acts, without having first obtain- ed leave inform* : And Tiberius, himself, would not hazard the word monopolium, in the senate, without making an excuse for employing a foreign torm|. Seneca gives it as a certain maxim, that wherever a general false taste in style and expression pre- vails, it is an infallible sign of a corruption of manners in that people : a liberty of introducing obsolete words, or forming new ones, * Liv. I. 40. c. 42. f Suet, in Tib. c. 71. BOOK I. OF PLINY. 15 " ccived in the cause of Viteliius :" sudi is the strain of his eloquence \ He fell so furiously upon the character of Hcrenmus Senecio, who was ca- pitally convicted upon the information of Metius Cams, that the latter said to him, one day, Pray u-hat business have you with my dead men ? Did I ever interfere in the affair of Crassus, or Ca~ merinus ? These, you know, were victims to Re- gulus, iii Nero's time. For these reasons, he ima- gines I am highly exasperated, and, therefore, when he recited his last piece, did not give me an invitation. Besides, he has not forgotten, it seems, the dano-crous snare he once laid for me. 7 O 7 when he and I were pleading before the centum- viri b . Rusticus had desired me to be counsel for Arionilla, Timon's wife : Regulus was engaged against ones, is a mark, he thinks, of an equal licentiousness of the mo- ral kind*. Accordingly, it is observedt, there is scarce more than eight or ten instances of new words Can be produced from the most approved Human writers, in the course of two or three centuries. It is possible, however, a delicacy of this sort may be carried too tar ; and, in fact, we rind some of their best writers, complaining of the poverty of tiieir language]: ; notwithstanding, Tully has ventured to assert it was more copious than the Greek. b A select bndy of men who farmed a court of judicature, called the centumviral court. Their jurisdiction extended chief- ly, if not entirely, to questions concerning wills and intestate es- tates ; for, though Tully, in his first book de Oratore, enumerates other points which came in question before them, yet Pitiscusjl is of opinion (and with great prwbabiliiy) that, in latter times, their business was singly confined to the cases first mentioned. Their number, as appears by our author, amounted to 180. * P.p. 114. j-Snnad.sur HOT. \Lufr. 1. 33'2. Shuntil. 8, 3. Plia. Ep. 13. 1. 4. De Fin. r. 1. sub iit. |! /.*-,-. in zerb, 154 16 THE LETTERS BOOK I. against her. In the course of my defence, I strongly insisted upon a decree which had been formerly made by the worthy Modestus, at that time banished by Domitian. Now behold Regu- lus in his true colours : " Pray," says he, " what " are your sentiments of Modestus ?" You Avill easily judge how extremely hazardous it would have been to have answered in his favour, and how infamous if the reverse. But some guardian power, I am persuaded, assisted me in this emer- gency. " I would tell you my sentiments," I said, " if that were a matter for the consideration " of the centumviri." Still he repeated his ques- tion. I replied, " It was not customary to exa- " mine witnesses to the character of a man after " sentence had passed upon him." He pressed me a third time : " I do not enquire" said he, " what " you think of Modestus in general ; I only ask " your opinion of his' loyalty" " Since you will " have my sentiments, then," I returned," I think " it illegal even to ask a question concerning a " person who stands convicted." This silenced him ; and I was universally applauded and con- gratulated, that, without wounding my charac- ter by an advantageous, perhaps, though un- generous answer, I had not entangled myself in so insidious a snare. Regulus, conscious of this unworthy treatment, has solicited Coecilius Ce- ler, and Fabius Justus, to use their interest to bring BOOK I. OF PLINY. 17 bring about a reconciliation between us. And lest this should not be sufficient, he has applied also to Spurinna for the same purpose ; to whom he came in the humblest manner (for he is the most abject creature living, where he has any thing to fear) and entreated him to call upon me very early the next morning, and endeavour, by any means, to soften my resentment; " for," says he, "I can no longer support myself under this " anxiety of mind." Accordingly, I was awak- ened, the following day, with a message from Spurinna, informing me that he would wait upon me. I sent word back, I would call upon him ; however, both of us mutually setting out to pay this visit, we met under Livia's portico. He acquainted me with the commission he had re- ceived from Regulus, and interceded for him, as became so worthy a man in behalf of one of a very different character, without greatly press- ing the thing. I ought not, I said, to conceal from him the true state of the case, and after I should have informed him, I would leave it to himself to consider what answer was proper for me to return. " But, I cannot positively," I added, " determine any thing till Mauricus c (who " was then in exile) shall return, by whose sen- u timents I think myself obliged to be entirely * guided in this affair," A few days after, Regu- lus c - Brother to Rusticus Arulenus, who had been put to deatU upon the information of this Regulut. 18 THE LETTERS BOOK I. lus met me as I was attending upon the praetor, and calling me aside, said, he was afraid I deeply resented an expression he had once made use of, in his reply to me and Satrius Rufus, before the centumviri, to this purpose : Rufus and that other, who affects to rival Tully, and to despise the eloquence of our age. I answered, that now, indeed, I perceived he spoke it with a sneer, since he owned he meant it so ; otherwise it might have passed for a compliment. I was free to own, I said, that I endeavoured to imitate Cice- ro, and was, by no means, contented with taking my example from modern eloquence ; for I looked upon it as a very absurd thing not to copy the best models of every kind. But, " how happens it/' continued I, " that you, \vho remember so " well what passed upon this occasion, should " have forgotten that other, when you pushed me " so strongly concerning the loyalty of Modes- " tus?" Confounded by this unexpected question, palid as he always is, he turned still paler. After a good deal of hesitation, he said, it was not at me he aimed; it was only at Modestus. Observe now, I beseech you, the implacable spirit of this fellow, who was not ashamed thus to confess himself capable of insulting the unfortunate. But the reason he gave in justification of this infa- mous proceeding, is pleasant. " He wrote," said he, " in a certain letter, which was read to Do- " mitian, BOOK I. OF PLIXY. ic> " mitian, that I was the most execrable of all " scoundrels :" and the character Modestus gave of him was the truth, beyond all manner of con- troversy. Here, I think, I broke off the conver- sation, being desirous to reserve to myself the li- berty of acting as I should see proper when Mau- ricus returns. It is no easy matter, I well know, to destroy Kegulus; he is rich, and at the head of a party ; there are many with whom he has credit 11 , and more that arc afraid of him : a pas- sion d There seems to have been a cast of uncommon blackness in the character of this Regulus; otherwise the benevolent Pliny would scarce have singled him out, as he has in this and some following letters, for the object of his warmest contempt and indignation. Yet, infamous as he appears to have been, he was not, it seems, without 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 vir- tue ; particularly in the following epigram, occasioned by his escape from an imminent danger. Itur ad Hercidci gelidas qua Tiburis arces, Canaque sulphurd* Albulu J'umat aqin's ; Rura ncmusque sacrum^ dilcctaqiiejugeraMusis y Signal vicina quartim ab urbe lapis : Hie rudis cestivas prccstabat Porticus umbras ; Heu quain pcenc nonun Porticus uuaa iirfa.? ! yam subito collapsa ruit. cum mole sub ilia Gestatiis bijugis Regulus essct equis. Nimirum limiiit nontras Fortuna qucrelas, Qiae par tarn -magnet: HOH crat itnidne. Nutic $ damnajuvant ; aunt ipsa pt-riada tanti : Stantia non potcrant teCta probare Deos. MART. Lib. 1. Ep. 13. Where leads the way to TV bur's shady tow'rs, And snow-white Albula sulphureous pours, A villa stands, from Rome a little space; And ev'ry muse delights to haunt the place. Here 20 THE LETTERS BOOK I. sion that will sometimes prevail even beyond friendship itself. But, after all, ties of this sort are not so strong, but they may be loosen- ed ; and the popularity of a bad man is no more to be depended upon than he is himself. How- ever (to repeat it again) I shall do nothing in this affair till Mauricus returns. He is a man of sound judgment and great sagacity, formed upon long experience, and who, from his ob- servations on the past, well knows how to judge of the future. I shall consult with him, and think myself justified either in pursuing or dropping this affair, as he shall advise. In the mean while, I thought I owed this account to that Here once a Portic lent her cooling shade ; Alas ! how near to impious guilt betray'd ! Sudden it fell ; what time the steeds convey Safe from her nodding walls great Regulus away. To crush that head not even Fortune dar'd, And the world's general indignation fear'd. Blest be the ruin, be the danger blest ! The standing pile had ne'er the Gods confest. But poets, especially needy ones, such as we know Martial was, are not generally the most faithful painters in this way ; and of the two copies of Regulus now before us, there can be no doubt which most resembled the original. If antiquity had de- livered down to us more of these drawings of the same person by different hands, the truth of characters might be easier as- certained, and many of those which we now view with high ad- miration, would greatly sink, perhaps, in our esteem ; as we must have conceived a very favourable idea of Regulus, if we had never seen his picture but from Martial's pencil. Even Horace himself, we find giving a very different air to his Lpllius* from that in which he is represented by Paterculusf. * Lib. 4. Orf. 9, f Lib. 2. 102. BOOK I. OF PLINY. 21 that friendship which subsists between us, and o-ives you an undoubted right to be informed not V only of all my actions, but all my designs. Farewel. LETTER VI. To CORNELIUS TACITUS. CERTAINLY you will laugh (and laugh you may) when I tell you that your old acquaintance is turned sportsman, and has captured three noble boars. What! (you will say, with astonishment) 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 my spear, but my pencil and tablet by my side. I mused and wrote, being resolved, if I returned with my hands empty, at least to come home with my memorandums full. Believe me, this manner of studying is not to be despised : you cannot conceive how greatly exercise contri- butes to enliven the imagination. There is, be- sides, something in the solemnity of the venerable woods with which one is surrounded, together with that profound silence a which is observed on these a By the Circumstance of silence, here mentioned, as well as by the whole air of this letter, it is plain the hunting here re- commended was of a very different kind from what is practised amongst us. It is probable the wild boars were allured into their nets by some kind of prey, with which they were baited, while the sportsman watched at a distance, in silence and con- l cealment. 22 THE LETTERS BOOK I. these occasions, that strongly inclines the mind to meditation. For the future, therefore, let me advise you, whenever you hunt, to take along with you your pencil and tablets, as well as your basket and bottle ; for be assured you will find Minerva as fond of traversing the hills as Diana. Farewel, LETTER VII. To OCTAVIUS RUFUS. SEE to what an exalted station you have raised me ! You have even invested me with a sove- reignty equal to that which Homer attributes to his mighty Jove. From Heaverts imperial throne Jove heard, his prayer, Part he admits, and scatters part in air*. Tis cealment. Something, at least, of this manner is here plainly implied, and is necessary to be hinted to the English reader, in order to his conceiving the propriety of Pliny's sentiment, which otherwise must seem absurd. This, perhaps, was their usual method of hunting in summer j as driving these animals into toils, by the assistance of hounds, is mentioned by Horace as a winter exercise : Cum tonantis annus hibernus Jwis Imbres nivesyue comparat, Trudit acres hinc fy hinc multa cane Apros in obstantcs plagas. EPOB. ii. When rain and snows appear, And wintry Jove loud thunders o'er the year, With hounds he drives into the toils The foaming boar, Mr. FKASTCIS. * Iliad, xvi. ver. 250. BOOK I. OF PLINY. 23 "Tis thus, with a nod or &frown t I may grant or reject your petition as I see proper. To be se- rious, as I am at liberty, I think, to excuse my- self to the Baetici 6 , especially at your request, from being their advocate against a single indi- vidual ; so, on the other hand, to oppose a whole province which I have long since attached to me by many good offices, and spared no pains to oblige, even at the hazard of my own interest, would be acting inconsistently with my honour, and that uniformity of conduct which I know you admire. I shall steer, therefore, in this af- fair, a middle course, and, of the alternative which you propose to me, choose that which will satisfy your judgment, as well as your inclina- tion. For I do not look upon myself obliged to consider so much what you at present desire, as what a man of your worthy character will always approve. I hope to be at Rome about the 15th of October, when we will join our united credit with Gallus, in convincing him of the reason- ableness of my oifer. In the mean while, you may assure him of my good disposition towards him : the sire of men and gods, With gracious aspect mild, compliance nods c . For why should I not continue to quote Homers verses, b The people of Bzetica, a part of Spain comprehending An- dalusia and Granada. 'Iliad. 1. v. 518. 24 THE LETTERS BOOK I. verses, since you will not put it in my power to quote any of yours? which yet I so passionately wish for, that I question whether I could with- stand such a bribe, even to plead against my old clients, the good people of Bastica. 1 had almost forgotten to mention (what, however, is of too much importance to be omitted) that I have received the excellent dates you sent me. They are likely to prove very powerful rivals to my favourite figs and morells. Farewel. LETTER VIII. To POM^EIUS SATURNINUS. JN! o THING could be more seasonable than the letter I received from you, wherein you desire me to communicate to you some of my compo- sitions : I was at that very time designing to send you one. Your request, therefore, has forwarded my intentions, and freed me, from every thing that I had to apprehend either from your refusal of this trouble, or my scruples to give it you. Without hesitation, then, I make use of your offer, as you must now take the consequence of it without reluctance. But you must not expect from a man of my indolence any thing new. On the contrary, I am going to entreat you to revise again the speech I made to my countrymen, when I dedicated the BOOK I. OF PLINY. 25 the public library which I founded for their use. You have already, I remember, obliged me with some remarks upon this piece : I now beg of you, not only to take a general view of the whole, but distinctly to criticise it, with your usual accu- racy, in all its parts. When you have corrected it, I shall still be at liberty either to publish or suppress it : and the delay in the mean time will be attended with one of these alternatives; for, while we are deliberating whether it is fit for the public view, a frequent revisal will either make it so, or convince me that it is not. Though, in- deed, the principal difficulty with me concerning the publication of this harangue, does not arise so much from the composition itself, as from the subject, which has something in it, I fear,"that will look like ostentation. For be the style ever so plain and unornamented, yet, as the occasion necessarily led me to speak not only of the munificence of my ancestors, but of my o\vn; my modesty will be greatly embarrassed. A dangerous and slippery situation ttys, even when one is led into it by a plea of necessity ! For, if mankind are not very favourable to panegyric, even when given us by 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 an- cestors ? Honourable actions, though stripped of all external advantages, are generally the VOL. I. r object S6 THE LETTERS BOOK! object of envy, but particularly so, when glory is her attendant ; and the world is never so little disposed to detract from the rectitude of your conduct, as when it passes unobserved and unap- plauded. 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 also to the public; and I am sensi- ble, that what may be exceedingly expedient 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, nothing could be more to my purpose than to explain at large the motives of my intended bounty ; for, by this means, I accustomed my mind to generous sentiments ; grew more ena- moured of the lovely forms by frequent attention to them ; arid guarded, at the same time, against that repentance which usually attends a hasty execution of liberalities not well considered. There arose, also, a farther advantage from this method, as it fixed in me a certain habitual con- tempt of money. For while mankind seem ot 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 pre- dominant a principle : and I thought my honest intentions would be the more meritorious, as they should fcoos L OF PLINY. sr should appear to proceed, not from a sudden start of munificence, but from the dictates of cool and deliberate reflection. I considered, be- sides, the nature of my design ; I was not en- gaging myself to exhibit public games or gladia- torial combats, but to establish an annual fund for the support and education of ingenious youths. The pleasures of the senses are so far from wanting the oratorial arts to recommend them, that we stand in need of all the powers of eloquence, to moderate and restrain their influ- ence, But to prevail with those who are capable of the office, to undertake with cheerfulness the disagreeable business of education; it is neces- sary to apply, in the most artful manner, not only to their interest, but their passions. If phy- sicians find it expedient to use the most insinuat- ing address in recommending to their patients a wholesome, though, perhaps, unpleasant regi- men; how much more occasion had he to exert all the powers of persuasion, who, out of regard to the public welfare, was endeavouring to re- concile it to a most useful, though not very po- pular 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 patiently to wait till they should be entitled to an honour, of which C 2 a jfe '5af THE LETTERS a few only could immediately partake. But as at that time, when I attempted to explain and enforce the design and benefit of my institution, I considered more the general good of my coun- trymen, than any reputation which might result to myself; so I am apprehensive, if I should publish this piece, it will seem as if I had a view rather to my own glory, than to the benefit of others. I am very sensible how much nobler it is to place the reward of virtue in the silent appro- bation of one's own breast, than in the applause of the world. Eame ought to be the consequence, not the motive of our actions; and though it should happen not to attend the worthy deed, yet is it by no means the less meritorious for hav- ing 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 extol- ling them. Thus the splendour of an action, which would have been deemed illustrious if re- lated by another, is totally extinguished when it Ijecomes the subject of one's own applause. Such is the disposition of mankind, if they cannot blast the action, they will censure the vanity ; and whether you do what does not deserve par-' ticular 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 BOOK I. OF PLINY. 9 with me. This speecli was delivered not be-fore a general assembly of the people at Rome, but the Decurii 1 ; not in the forum, but a minicipal assembly ; I doubt, therefore, it will appear in^ consistent that I, who, when I spoke it, seemed to endeavour 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 those persons to be present when I pronounced this discourse, 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 fonvardly displaying it to such as have no other concern in my munificence, than the benefit of example. These are the scruples which have oc^ casioned my delaying to give this piece to the public; but I submit them entirely to your judg- ment, which I shall ever esteem as a sufficient sanction of my conduct. Farewel. C 3 LETTER 1 The Decurii were a sort of senators in the municipal or cor- porate cities of Italy. 30 THE LETTERS BOOK I. LETTER IX. To MlNUTIUS FUNDANUS. vv HEN one considers hqw the tinje passes at Rome, one cannot but be surprised, that, take any single day, and it either js, or at least seems to be, spent reasonably enough ; and yet, upon casting up the whole sum, the amount will apr pear quite otherwise. Ask any one how he has been employed to-day? he will tell you, perhaps,, " I have been at the ceremony of investing the " manly 1 robe ; this frienc} invited me to a wedr " ding ; thqt desired me to attend the hearing of " his cause ; one begged me to be witness to his " will ; another called me to a consultation." These are offices which seem, while one is en- gaged in them, extremely necessary ; and yet, when in the silence of retirement, we look back upon the many hours thus employed, we cannot but condemn them as solemn impertinences. At such a season one is apt to reflect, How much of my life has been spent in trifles ! At least, it is a reflection which frequently occurs to me at Laurentum, after I have been employing myself in my studies, or even in the necessary care of the animal machine ; (for the body must be re- paired The Roman youths at the age of seventeen changed their habit, and took up the toga virilis, or manly gown, upon which, occasion they were conducted, by the friends of the family, with, great ceremony, either into the forum or capital, and invested with this new robe. BOOK I. OF PLINY, 31 paired and supported, if we would preserve the mind in all its vigour. ) In that peaceful retreat, I neither hear nor speak any thing of which I have occasion to repent. I suffer none to repeat to me the whispers of slander ; nor do I censure any man, unless myself, when I am dissatisfied with my compositions. There I live undisturbed by rumour, and free from the anxious solicitudes of hope or fear, conversing only with myself and my books. True and genuine life ! pleasing and ho- nourable repose ! More, perhaps, to be desired than employments of any kind ! Thou solemn sea and solitary shore, best and most retired scene for contemplation, with how many noble thoughts have ye inspired me ! Snatch then, my friend, as I have, the first occasion of leaving the noisy town, with all its frivolous pursuits, and devote your days to study, or even resign them to indo- lence; for, as my ingenious friend Attilius plea- santly said, " It is better to have nothing to do, " than to be doing nothing." LETTER X f ToAiRius CLEMENS. IF ever polite literature flourished at Rome, it certainly flourishes now ; and I could give you many eminent instances : I \yill content myself, however, with naming only Euphrates the philo- C 4 aopher, 32 THE LETTERS BOOK I. sophcr. I first became acquainted with this ex- cellent person in my youth, when I served in the army in Syria. I had an opportunity of convers- ing with him familiarly, and took some pains to gain his affection : though that, indeed, was no- thing difficult, for he is exceedingly open to ac- cess, and actuated by those social principles he professes to teach. I should think myself ex- tremely happy if I had as fully answered the ex- pectations he, at that time, conceived of me, as lie exceeds every thing 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 ; if I can with truth say I yet know. 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 re- spective 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 strike the most injudicious observer. He reasons with much force, acuteness, and elegance, and frequently rises into all the sublime and luxuriant eloquence of Plato. His style is rich and flowing, and, at the same time, so wonderfully captivating, that he forces the reluctant attention of the most unwilling hearer, BOOK I. OF PLINY. 35 hearer. His outward appearance is agreeable to all 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 o negligence in his habit ; his countenance is grave, but not austere; and his approach com- mands respect without creating awe. Distin- guished as he is by the sanctity of his manners, he is no less so by his polite and affable address. He points his eloquence 5 ' against the vices, not the persons of mankind, and without severity re- claims the wanderer from the paths of virtue. His exhortations so captivate your attention, that you hang 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 competitors for his daughter, he preferred Euphrates, as first in me- rit, though not in dignity. But to dwell any longer upon the virtues of a man, whose conver- sation I am so unfortunate as not to have leisure sufficiently 34 THE LETTERS BOOK I. sufficiently to enjoy ; what would it avail but to increase my regret ? My time is wholly taken up in the execution of a very honourable, indeed, but very troublesome employment; in hearing causes, answering petitions, passing accounts, and writing letters ; but letters, alas ! where genius has no share. I sometimes complain to Euphrates (for I have leasure at least to complain) of these unpleasing occupations. He endeavours to comfort me, by affirming, that to be engaged in the service of the public, to hear and deter- mine causes, 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. It may be so ; but that it is as agreeable as to spend whole days in attending to his useful conversation-^ even his rhetoric will never be able to convince me. I cannot, therefore, but strongly recom- mend it to you, who have leisure, the next time you come to Rome (and you will come, I dare say, so much the sooner) to take the benefit of his elegant and refined instructions. I am not, you see, in the number of those who envy others the happiness they cannot share themselves ; on the contrary, it is a very sensible pleasure to me, when I find my friends in possession of an enjoy- ment from which I have the misfortune to be ex- cluded. Farewel. LETTER BOOK I. OF PLINY, 35 LETTER XI. To FABJUS JUSTUS. IT is long since I received a letter from you; You will alledge, perhaps, you have nothing to write but let me have the satisfaction, at least, of seeing it under your hand, that you have no- thing to write, or tell me in the good old style, If you are well, I am well. I shall he content- ed even with that; as, indeed, that single cir- cumstance from a friend, includes every thing. You may possibly think J jest; but, believe me, I am perfectly in earnest. In short, all I desire is, to know how it is with you ; for I can no longer remain in this ignorance without the utmost anxiety. Farevvel, LETTER XII f To CALESTRIUS TIRO, I HAVE suffered a most sensible loss; if that word is sufficiently strong to express the misfor- tune which has deprived me of so excellent a man. Corellius Rufus is dead ! and dead, too, by his own act ! a circumstance of great aggra- vation 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 dis,- ease 56 THE LETTERS BOOK L ease snatches from us, that they fall by the ge- neral destiny of mankind ; but those who destroy themselves, leave us under the inconsolable re- flection that they had it in their power to have lived longer. 'Tis true, Corellius had many in- ducements to be fond of life; a blameless con- science, high reputation, and great dignity of character, together with all the tender endear- ments of a wife, a daughter, a grandson, and sisters ; and amidst these considerable pledges of happiness, he had many and faithful friends. Still, it must be owned, he had the highest rea- son (which, to a wise man, will always have the force of the strongest obligation) to determine him in this resolution. He had long laboured under so tedious and painful a distemper, that even these blessings, great and valuable as they are, could not balance the evils he suffered. li\ his thirty-third year, (as I have frequently heard him say) he was seized with the gout in his feet. This distemper he received from his father; for diseases, as well as possessions^ are some- times transmitted by inheritance. A life of abstinence and virtue had somewhat broken the force of this distemper while he had strength and youth to struggle with it; as a manly courage supported him under the increasing weight of it in his old age. I remember, iu the reign of Domitian, to have made him a visit at BOOK I. OF PLINY. 37 at his villa, near Rome, where I found him under the most incredible and undeserved tor- tures ; for the gout was now not only in his feet, but had spread itsejf over his whole bod}'. As soon. as I entered his chamber, his servants withdrew ; for it was his constant rule, never to suffer them to be present when any very intimate friend was with him : he even carried it so far as to dismiss his wife upon such occasions, though worthy of the highest confidence. Casting his eyes round the room, " I)o you knorv," says lie, " why I en~ " dure life under these cruel agonies ? It is with " the hope that I may outlive, at least for one " day, that villain 3 '. And Oh ! ye gods, had you " given me strength, as you have given me reso* " lution, I would infallibly have that pleasure /** Heaven heard his prayer, and having survived that tyrant, and lived to see liberty restored, he broke through those other great, but now less forcible attachments to the world, since he could leave it in possession of security and freedom r 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 un- interrupted attacks, by an effort of heroism. He had refused all sustenance during four days, when his wife Hispulla sent our common friend Gemi- nius to me, with the melancholy news that he was a Domitian. 35 THJE LETTERS BOOK I. was resolved to die; and that she and her daughter having in vain joined in their most tender per- suasions to divert him from his purpose, the only hope they had now left was my endeavours to* reconcile him to life. I ran to his house with the utmost precipitation. As I approached it, I met a second messenger from Hispulla, who informed me there was nothing to be hoped for, even from me, as he now seemed more inflexible than ever in his resolution. What confirmed their fears was an expression he made use of to his physi- cian, who pressed him to take some nourishment. " 'Tis resolved" he replied j an expression which, as it raised my admiration of his greatness of soul, so it does my grief, for the loss of him. I am every moment reflecting what a valuable friend, what an excellent man, I am deprived of. That he was arrived to his sixty-seventh year, which is an age even the strongest seldom ex- ceed, I welt know ; that he is delivered from a life of continual pain ; that he left his family and (what he loved even more) his country in a flourishing state : all this I know. Still I cannot O 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?) upon a private ac- count. For I have lost, oh ! my friend, I have lost the witness, the guide, and the governor of my life ! And, to confess to you as I did to Calvisius, BOOK I. OF PLINY. 39 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, therefore, I en- treat you ; not by telling me that he was old, that he was infirm : all this I know ; but by supplying me with some reflections that are un- common and resistless, that neither the com- merce of the world, nor the precepts of the phi- losophers can teach me. 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. Farewel. LETTER XIII. To Socius SENECIO. THIS year has proved extremely fertile in poeti- cal productions : during the whole month of April, scarce a day has passed wherein we have not been entertained with the recital of some poem. It is a pleasure to me to find, notwith- standing there seems to be so little disposition in the public to attend assemblies of this kind, that a taste for polite literature still exists, and men of genius are not discouraged from producing their performances. It is visible, the greater part of the audience which is collected upon these occa- sions, come with reluctance, loiter round the place 40 THE LETTERS BOOK I. place of assembly, join in little parties of con- versation, and are perpetually sending to enquire whether the author has made his entrance, whe- ther he has read the preface, or whether he has almost finished the piece. Then, with an air of the greatest indifference, they just look in, and withdraw again ; some by stealth, and others with less ceremony. It was not thus in the time of our ancestors. It is reported that Claudius Cassar one day hearing a noise near his palace, enquired the occasion ; and being informed that Nonianus 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 company even of the most idle man living, and remind him of the ap- pointment ever so often, or ever so long before- hand, either he would avoid it under pretence of forgetfulness, or if not, would look upon it as so much time lost; and for no other reason, per- haps, but because he had not lost it. So much the rather do those authors deserve our encou- ragement and applause, who have resolution to persevere in their studies, and exhibit their per- formances, notwithstanding this fastidiousness, or indifference of their audience. For my own part, I scarce ever refuse to be present upon such occasions ; though, to say truth, the authors have generally been my friends, as, indeed, there are BOOK. I. OF PLINY. 41 are few men of genius who are not It is this has kept me in town longer than I intended. I am now, however, at liberty to return into the country, and compose something myself; but without any intention of reciting it, lest I should seem to have rather lent than given my attend- ance to those recitations of my friends ; for in these, as in all other good offices, the obligation ceases the moment you seem to expect a return. Farewel. LETTER XIV. To JUNIUS MAURICUS. You desire me to look out a proper husband for your niece : it is with justice you enjoin me that office. You were a witness to the esteem and affection I bore that great man, her father, and with what noble instructions he formed 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 agree- able 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 grand- children of llusticus Arulenus ; a choice I should be long in determining, if I were not acquainted with Minutius ^Emilianus, who seems formed for our purpose. He loves me with all that warmth of affection which is usual between young men VOL. I. D ef 42 THE LETTERS BOOK I. 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 a , one of those provinces in Italy which still retain much of the frugal simplicity and pu- rity of ancient manners. He is the son of Mi- nutius Macrinus, whose humble desires were sa- tisfied with standing at the head of the eques- trian order b : for though he was nominated by Vespasian among 4 those whom that prince digni- fied with the praetorian office, yet, with an in- flexible greatness of mind, he resolutely preferred an elegant repose, to the ambitious, shall I call them, or honourable pursuits in which we in public life are engaged ? His grand-mother, on the mother's side, is Serrana Procula, of Padua : you are no stranger to the character of its citi- zens; yet Serrana is looked upon, even among these people of correct manners, as an exemplary instance of strict virtue. Acilius, his uncle, is a man of singular gravity, wisdom, and integrity. In short, you will find nothing throughout his family unworthy of yours. Minutius himself has great vivacity, as well as application, together with a most amiable and becoming modesty. He A town in the territories of Venice, now called Brescia. b See page 53, note b . BOOK I. OF PLINY. 4S He has already, with much 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 genteel and florid countenance, with a certain noble mien that speaks the man of distinction : advantages, I think, by no means to be slighted, and which I consider as the proper tribute to virgin innocence. I am doubtful whether I should 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 unneces- sary 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, that you will find every circumstance far beyond what I have represented. I confess, indeed, I love Minutius (as he justly deserves) Avith the warmth of a most ardent affection; but for that very rea- son I would not ascribe more to his merit than I know it will support. Farewel. D 2 LETTER 44 THE LETTERS BOOK I. LETTER XV. To SEPT i TI us CLARUS. riow happened it, my friend, that you did not keep your engagement the other night to sup with me? But take notice, justice is to be had, and I expect you shall fully reimburse me the expence I was at to treat you ; which, let me tell you, was no small sum. I had prepared, you must know, a lettuce a-piece, three snails' 1 , two eggs, and a barley cake, with some sweet wine and snow b : the snow most certainly I shall charge to your account, as a rarity that will not keep. Besides all these curious dishes, there were olives of Andalusia, gourds, shalots, and a hundred * The English reader may probably be surprised to find this article in Pliny's philosophical bill of fare ; it will not be im- proper, therefore, to inform him, that a dish of snails was very common at a Roman table. The manner used to fatten them is related by some very grave authors of antiquity ; and Pliny the elder mentions one Fulvius Hirpinus, who had studied that art with so much success, that the shells of some of his snails would Contain about ten quarts. [H. N. i. 9 56.] In some parts of Switzerland this food is still in high repute. See Ad- dison's Trav. 3G4. b The Romans used SHOW not only to cool their liquors, but their stomachs, after having inflamed themselves with high eat- ing: Nivem rodunt, says Seneca, solatium stomachi (fstuantis.- [Ep_ 95.] This custom still prevails in Italy, especially at Naples, where (as Mr. Addison observes) they " drink very few *' liquors, not so much as water, that have not lain in fresco, " and every body, from the highest to the lowest, makes use ef *' it ; insomuch that a scarcity of snow would raise a mutiny at " Naples, as much as a dearth of corn or provisions in another " country." Trav. 185. BOOK I. OF PLINY. 45 hundred other dainties equally sumptuous. You should likewise have been entertained either with an interlude, the rehearsal of a poem, or a piece of music, as you liked best ; or (such was my li- berality) with all three. But the luxurious deli- cacies and Spanish dancers of a certain I know not who, were, it seems, more to your taste. However, I shall have my revenge of you, de- pend upon it ; in what manner, shall at present be a secret. In good truth it was not kind, thus to mortify your friend I had almost said your- self; and, upon second thoughts, I do say so : for how agreeably should we have spent the evening, in laughing, trifling, and literary amuse- ments ! You may sup, I confess, at many places more splendidly ; but you can no where be c In the original the dishes are specified, viz. oysters, the ma- trices of sows, with a certain sea shell-fish, prickly like a hedge- hog, called Echinus, all in the highest estimation among the Roman admirers of table luxury, as appears/ by numberless passages in the classic writers. Our own country had the ho- nour to furnish them with oysters, which they fetched from Sandwich: Montanus, mentioned by Juvenal, was so well skilled in the science of good eating, that he could tell by the. first taste whether they came from that coast : Circcfis nota foratt, an Liicriiiuin ad saxian, Rupinove edita fundo Ostrea, callebat primo dcprcndere morsu. Sat. iv. 140. He, whether Circe's rock his oysters bore, Or Lucrine lake, or the Ratupian shore, Knew at first taste. Mr. DUKB. D3 46 THI LETTERS BOOK I, be treated with more unconstrained cheerfulness, simplicity, and freedom : only make the experi- ment ; and if you do not ever afterwards prefer my table to any other, never favour me with your company again. Farewel. LETTER XVI. To ERUCIUS. I CONCEIVED an affection for my frientHPom- peius Saturninus, and admired his genius, even long before I knew the extensive variety of his talents : but he has now taken full and unreserv- ed possession of my whole heart. I have heard him, in the unpremeditated as well as studied speech, plead with no less force and energy, than grace and eloquence. He abounds with just re- flections ; his periods are graceful and majestic ; his words harmonious, and stamped with the mark of genuine antiquity. These united quali- ties infinitely delight you, not only when you are carried along, if I may so say, with the resistless flow of his charming and emphatical elocution, but also when considered distinctly and apart from that advantage. I am persuaded you will be of this opinion when you peruse his orations, and will not hesitate to place him in the same rank with the ancients, whom he so happily emu- lates. But you will view him with increased pleasure BOOK I. OF PLINY. 47 pleasure in the character of an historian, in which his style is hoth concise and clear, elegant and sublime ; and the same strength of expression, though more compressed, runs through his his- torical harangues, which so eminently distin- guishes and adorns his public orations. But these are not the whole of his excellencies ; he has com- posed several poetical pieces in the manner of Calvus and Catullus. What strokes of wit, what sweetness of numbers, what pointed satire, and what touches of the tender passion appear in his verses ! in the midst of which he sometimes de- signedly falls into an agreeable negligence in his metre, in the manner too of those admired poets. He read to me, the other day, some letters which he assured me were written by his wife : I fan- cied I was perusing Plautus or Terence in prose. Whether they are that lady's, (as he positively affirms) or his own, Avhich he absolutely denies, he deserves equal applause ; either for writing so politely himself, or for having so highly improved and refined the genius of his wife, whom he mar- ried young and uninstructed. His works are ever in my hands ; and I never sit down to compose any thing of my own, or to revise what I have already written, or am in a disposition to amuse myself, that I do not take up this agreeable au- thor; and, as often as I do so, he is still new. Let me strongly recommend him to the same de- D 4 gree 48 THE LETTERS BOOK I. gree of intimacy with you ; nor be it any objec- tion to his works that he is a contemporary au- thor. Had he flourished in some former age, not only his publications, but pictures and sta- tues, representing his person, would have been passionately enquired after : shall we, then, from a sort of satiety, and merely because he is pre- sent among us, suffer his talents to languish and fade away unhonoured and unadmired ? It is surely a very perverse and envious disposition, to look with indifference upon a man worthy of the highest approbation, for no other reason, but be- cause we have it in our power to see him, and to converse with him, and not only to give him our applause, but our friendship. Farewel. LETTER XVII. To CORNELIUS TJTIANUS. I HE social virtues have not yet quite forsaken the world ; and there are still those whose gene- rous esteem extends even to departed merit. Ti- tianus Capito, has obtained the emperor's permis- sion to erect a statue in the forum to the late L. Syllanus. It is a truly laudable and noble appli- cation of princely favour, to employ it to so wor- thy a purpose, and to exert one's interest for the glory of others. To preserve the memory of emi- 1 nent BOOK I. OF PLINY. 49 nent characters, is, indeed, habitual to Capito : he has placed in his house (where he may safely take that liberty) the statues of the Bruti, the Cassii, and the Catos a ; which he not only con- templates with ardent veneration, but has also celebrated the respective lives of those great pa- triots in some excellent verses. One may be very sure a person possesses great virtue himself^ who thus admires it in others. Capito has, by this act, secured to himself, that immortality which he has bestowed on Syllanus ; for, he who erects a statue in the Roman forum to a worthy character, receives as much honour as he con- fers. Farewel. LETTER XVIII. To SUETONIUS TRANQUILLUS. YOUR letter informs me, that you are extreme- ly alarmed by a dream; apprehending, that it forebodes some ill success to you in the cause you have undertaken to defend ; and, therefore, desire * Suetonius informs us, that Caligula destroyed the statues of those illustrious persons which Augustus had erected in the capitol ; and published an edict, whereby he prohibited sta- tues to be raised to any person in his life-time, unless by the em- peror's express permission. It is probable, Pliny here alludes to a decree of this nature made by some succeeding emperor, perhaps Domitian, against publicly erecting^tatues to these glo- rious assertors of liberty. 50 THE LETTERS BOOK I. desire that I would get it adjourned for a few days, or, at least, to the next. This is a favour, you are sensible, not very easily obtained, but I will use all my interest for that purpose ; For dreams descend from Jove*. HOM. In the mean while, it is very material for you to recollect, whether your dreams b generally repre- sent things as they afterwards fall out, or quite the reverse. But if I may judge of yours by one that happened to*myself, you have nothing to fear; for, it portends you will acquit yourself with great success. I had promised to be counsel for Julius a Pope, Iliad i. 63. b Dreams were considered from the earliest antiquity as sa- cred admonitions and hints of futurity. Many of the heathen oracles were delivered in this manner, and, even among the Jews, we find several intimations conveyed to their prophets in the same way. The Romans, in general, were great observers of dreams, and Augustus Czes-ar is said to have escaped a very imminent danger at the battle of Philippi, by quitting his tent in compliance with a dream of Antonius, his physician*. This is mentioned to obviate any prejudice against Pliny, which may arise in the mind of a reader unacquainted with the prevailing sentiments of the ancients upon this point, who might other- wise be surprised to find our author talk seriously upon a sub- ject of this nature. The truth is, as an eminent criticf has observed, with great good-sense, there seems to be as much te- merity in never giving credit to dreams, as there is superstition in always doing so. " It appears to me," says be, " that the " true medium between these two extremes, is to treat them as " we would a known liar ; we are sure he most usually relates " falsehoods, however, nothing hinders but he may sometimes " speak truth." * Val. Max. I. 1. c. 7. f Dacier sur Hor. 1. 3. Ep. 2. BOOK I. OF PLINY. 51 Julius 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 be concerned in the cause. 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 considerable men in Rome, and particular favourites of Ca3sar ; any of which circumstances were sufficient, after such an in- auspicious 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 c for I looked upon the promise 1 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 cause which first procured me the favourable attention of the public, and threw open to me the gates of Fame. Con- sider then, whether your dream, like that which I have related, may not pre-signify success. But, after all, perhaps, you will think it more safe to pursue this cautious maxim : u 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 expedient, and endeavour c Iliad xii. 243. POPE. 52 TH E LETTERS BOOK!. endeavour that your cause shall be heard any day you like best. In this respect, you are in a bet- ter situation than I was : the court of the cen- tumviri, where I was to plead, admits of no ad- journment ; whereas, in that where your cause is to be heard, though it is not easy to procure one, still, however, it is possible. Farewel. LETTER XIX. To ROMANUS FlRMUS. As you are my town's-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 strong and weighty reasons) to contribute all in my power to the advance- ment 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 ses- terces* ; but that we may also have the satisfac- tion 1 About 8001. of our money. The sesterce was a Roman silver coin, the value of which the most accurate antiquarians have settled at 1 penny, 3 farthings and 3-4ths, making 1000 to be equal to 81. Is. 5}d. ; but, to avoid fractions in this place and throughout all the following calculations, a thousand ses- terces are considered as equivalent to only 81. sterling. BOOK I. OF PLINY. 53 tion of seeing you a Roman b knight, I present to you three hundred thousand , in order to make Kip the sum requisite to entitle you to that dig- nity. The long acquaintance we have had, leaves me no room to doubt you will ever be forgetful of this instance of my friendship. And I know your disposition much too well to think it neces- sary to advise you to enjoy this honour with the modesty that becomes a person who received it from me : for the advanced rank we possess by the good offices of a friend, is a kind of sacred trust, wherein we have his judgment, as well as our own character, to maintain, and therefore to be guarded with the greater caution. LETTER b " The equestrian dignity, or that order of the Roman people " which we commonly call knights, had nothing in it analo- gous to any order of modern knighthood, but depended en- tirely upon a valuation of their estates; and every citizen, whose entire fortunes amounted to 400,000 sesterces, that is, to 32291. 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 distinc- tion than the privilege of wearing a gold ring, which was the " peculiar badge of their order." Life of Tully, vol. i. 3. in not. * About 24001. sterling. 54 THE LETTERS BOOK I. LETTER XX. To CORNELIUS TACITUS. I HAVE frequent debates with a learned and ju- dicious person of my acquaintance, who admires nothing so much in the eloquence of the bar, as conciseness. I agree with him, where the cause will admit of this precision, it may be properly adopted ; but insist, that to omit what is mate- rial to be mentioned, or only slightly to touch upon those points which should be strongly in- culcated, and impressed on the minds of the au- dience, is, in effect, to desert the cause one has undertaken. In many cases, a copious manner of expression gives strength and weight to our ideas, which frequently make their effect 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 amongst the Grecians, together with Cato and the two Gracchi, among our own countrymen, as instances in favour of the con- cise style. In return, I name Demosthenes, JEschines, Hyperides, and many others in oppo- sition to Lysias ; while I confront Cato and the Gracchi, as also Caesar, Pollio, Ccelius, but above all, Cicero, whose longest oration is generally esteemed the best. It is in good compositions, as in every thing else that is valuable ; the more there Bo OK I. OF PLINY. 55 there is of them, the better. You may observe in statues, basso-relievos, pictures, and the bo^ dies of men, and even in animals and trees, that nothing is more graceful than magnitude, if ac- companied with proportion. The same holds true in pleading ; and even in books, a large volume carries somewhat of 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 persons, upon whose works I found my opinion, made considerable additions to their orations when they published them. This I deny ; and appeal to the harangues of numberless orators, particularly to those of Cicero, for Murena and Varenus, where he seems to have given us little more than the general charge. Whence it ap- pears, that many things which he enlarged upon at the time he delivered those orations, were re- trenched 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 advo- cate than himself; and, he tells us further, that he employed four whole days in defence of Cor- nelius ; by which it plainly appears, that those orations which, when delivered at their full length, had necessarily taken up so much time at 56 THE LETTERS at the bar, were greatly altered and abridged when he afterwards comprised them in a single volume, though, I must confess, indeed, a large one. But it is objected, there is a wide differ- ence between good pleading and just composi- tion. This opinion, I acknowledge, has had some favourers, and it may be true ; neverthe- less, I am persuaded (though I may, perhaps, be mistaken) that, as it is possible a pleading may be well received by the audience, which has not merit enough to recommend it to the reader ; so a good oration cannot be a bad pleading : for the oration on paper is, in truth,., the original and model of the speech that was pronounced. It is for this reason we find, in many of the best ora- tions extant, numberless expressions which have the air of unpremeditated discourse; and even in those which we are sure were never spoken ; as, for instance, in the following passage from the oration against Verres. " A certain mechanic " whafs his name ? Oh, I'm obliged to you for " helping me to it : yes, I mean Polyclctus." It cannot then be denied, that the nearer approach a speaker makes to the rules of just composition, the more perfect he will be in his art ; always supposing, however, that he has the necessary indulgence in point of time ; for, if he be limited in that article, no blame can justly be fixed upon the advocate, though much certainly upon the judge, BOOK I. OF PLINY. 57 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 brevity, but copiousness, a full representation of every material circum* stance, which they recommend. And how is it possible for an advocate to acquit himself of that duty, unless in the most insignificant causes, if he affect to be concise ? Let me add what expe- rience, 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*. Upon those occasions, I have ever found the judgments of mankind are to be influenced by different modes of applica- tion, and that the slightest circumstances fre- quently produce the most important conse* quences. There is so vast a variety in the dis- positions and understandings of men, that they seldom agree in their opinions concerning any one point in debate before them ; or, if they do, it is generally from the movement of different passions. Besides, as every man naturally fa- vours his own discoveries, when he hears an ar- gument urged which had before occurred to himself, he will certainly embrace it as extremely convincing. The orator, therefore, should so * 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. VOL. I, E 58 THE LETTERS COOK I. adapt himself to his audience, as to throw out something which every one of them, in turn, may receive and approve as conformahle to his own particular sentiments. I remember when Regulus and I were concerned together in a cause, he said to me, " You seem to think it ne- " cessary to dwell upon every single circum- " stance ; whereas I always take aim at once at " my adversary's throat, and there I closely " press him."" ('Tis true, he tenaciously holds whatever part he has once fixed upon ; but the misfortune is, he is extremely apt to mistake the right place.) I answered, it might possibly hap- pen, that what he called the throat, was, in reality, some less vital part. As for myself, said I, who do not pretend to direct my aim with so much certainty, I attack every part, and push at every opening ; in short, to use a vulgar proverb, I leave no stone unturned. As in agriculture, it is not my vineyards, or my woods alone, but my fields also, that I cultivate ; and (to pursue the allusion) as I do not content myself with sowing those fields with only one kind of grain, but employ several different sorts; so, in my pleadings at the bar, I scatter various arguments like so many kinds of seed, in order to reap from thence whatever may happen to succeed : for the elisposition of your judges is as precarious, and as little to be ascertained, as that of soils and seasons, BOOK I. OF PLINY. 9 seasons. I remember the comic writer Eupolis mentions it in praise of that excellent orator Pericles, that On his lips Pfersuasion hung, And powerful Reason ruVd his tongue: Thus he alone could boast the art, To charm at once and pierce the heart t But could Pericles, without the richest variety of expression, and merely by force of the concise or the rapid style, or both together (for they are extremely different) have thus charmed and pierced the heart? To delight and to persuade, requires time, and a great compass of language ; and to leave a sting in the minds of his audi- ence, is an effect not to be expected from an ora- tor who slightly pushes, but from him, and him only, who thrusts home and deep. Another co- mic poet b , speaking of the same orator, says, His mighty words like Jove's own thunder roll; Greece hears, and humbles to her inmost soul. But it is not the close and the reserved ; it is the copious, the majestic, and the sublime orator, who, with the lightning and thunder of his elo- quence, hurries you impetuously along, and bears down all before him. There is a just mean, I own, in every thing 1 ; but he equally misseth the mark, " Aristophanes. E2 60 THE LETTERS BOOK I. mark, who falls short of it, as he who goes be- yond it ; he who confines himself in too narrow a compass, as he who launches out with too great a latitude. Hence it is as common to hear our orators condemned for being too barren, as too luxuriant ; for not reaching, as well as for overflowing the bounds of their subject. Both, no doubt, are equally distant from the proper medium ; but with this difference, however, that in the one the fault arises from an abundance, in the other, from a deficiency ; an error which if it be not a sign of a more correct, yet it is certainly of a more fertile genius. When I say this, I Would not be understood to approve that ever- lasting talker mentioned in Homer, but that fother d described in the following lines : Frequent and soft as falls the winter snow, Thus from his lips the copious periods flow. Not but I extremely admire him" too, of whom the poet says, Few were his words, but wonderfully strong-. Yet, if I were to choose, I should clearly give the preference to the style resembling winter j, .that is, to the full and diffusive j in short, to c Thersites, Iliad ii. v. 212. * Ulysses, Iliad iii. v. 2.22. s, ibid. BOOK I. OF PLINY. Gl to that pomp of eloquence which seems all hea- venly and divine. But (it is replied) the ha- rangue of a more moderate length is most gene- rally admired. It is so, I confess : but by whom ? By the indolent only ; and to fix the standard by the laziness and false delicacy of these, would surely be the highest absurdity. Were you to consult persons of this cast, they would tell you, not only that it is best to say lit- tle, but that it is best to say nothing. Thus, my friend, I have laid before you my sentiments upon this subject, and I shall readily abandon them, if not agreeable to yours. But, should you dissent from me, I beg you would communicate to me your reasons. For though I ought to yield, in this case, to your more en- lightened judgment, yet, in a point of such con- sequence, I had rather receive my conviction, from argument, than authority. If you should be of my opinion in this matter, a line or two in return, intimating your concurrence, will be suf* ficient to confirm me in the justness of my sen* timents : on the contrary, if you should thinly me mistaken, I beg you to give me your objec- tions at large. Yet has it not somewhat the air of bribery, to request only a short letter, if you. agree with me ; but enjoin you the trouble of a very E 3 6& THE LETTERS BOOK I. very long one, if you should be of a different opinion? Farewel. LETTER XXL To PATERNUS. As I rely very much upon the strength of your judgment, so I do upon the goodness of your eyes : not because I think your discernment very great (for I would not make you yain, but, because I think it as good as mine : which, it must be owned, is saying a great deal in its favour. Jesting apart, I like very well the ap- pearance of the slaves which were purchased for me by your recommendation ; all that I want farther, is to be satisfied of their behaviour : and, for this, I must depend upon their characters more than their countenances. Farewel. LETTER XXtt. To CATILIUS SEVZRUS. I AM, at present, (and have been a considerable time) detained in Rome, under the most alarm- ing apprehensions. Titus Aristo, whom I esteem and love with singular regard, is fallen into a dan- gerous and obstinate illness, which deeply affects me. BOOK I. OF PLINY. 63 me. Virtue, knowledge, and good sense, shine out with so superior a lustre in this excellent man, that learning herself, and every valuable endowment, seems involved in the danger of his single person. How consummate is his- know- ledge, both in the political and civil laws of his country ! How thoroughly conversant is he in every branch of history and antiquity ? In q, word, there is no article of science, you would wish to be informed of, in which he is not skill- ed. As, for my own part, whenever I would ac- quaint myself with any abstruse point of litera- ture, I have recourse to him, as to one who sup- plies me with its most hidden treasures. What an engaging sincerity, what dignity in his con- versation ! How humble, yet how graceful his diffidence ! 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 weighing every opposite reason that is offered, and tracing it with a most judicious penetration, from its source through all its remotest conse? quenqes. His diet is frugal, his dress plain; and whenever I enter his chamber, and view him re- clined upon his couch, I consider the scene be- fore me, as a true image of ancient simplicity, to which his illustrious mind reflects the noblest or- nament. He places no part of his happiness in os- tentation, but in the secret approbation of his E 4 conscience ; 64 THE LETTERS BOOK I. "conscience ; seeking the reward of his virtue, not in the clamorous applauses of the world, but in the silent satisfaction which results from hav- ing acted well. In short, you will not easily find his equal, even among our philosophers by pro- fession. He frequents not the places of public disputations' 1 , nor idly amuses himself and others with vain and endless controversies. His ex- alted talents are employed to nobler purposes, and exerted in the scenes of civil and active life. Many has he assisted with his interest, still more with his advice ! But though he dedicates his time to the affairs of the world, he regulates his conduct by the precepts of philosophy ; and, in temperance, piety, justice, and fortitude, he has no superior. It is astonishing with what pati- ence he supports his illness ; how he bears pain, endures thirst, and quietly submits to the pres- sure of those cloaths which are laid upon him to promote perspiration in this raging fever. He lately called me, and a few more of his particular friends, to his bed-side, requesting us to ask his physicians what turn they apprehended his dis- temper 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 The philosophers used to hold their disputations in the Gymnasia and Porticos, being places of the most public resort for walking, &c. BOOK I. OF PLINY. 65 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 des- perate. A resolution this, in my estimation, truly heroical, and worthy of the highest ap- plause. Instances are frequent in the world, of rushine; into the arms of death without reflec- O tion, and by a sort of blind impulse ; but delibe- rately to weigh the reasons for life or death, and to be determined in our choice, as either side of the scale prevails, is the mark of no common greatness of mind b . We have had the satisfac- tion to receive the opinion of his physicians in ~his favour : may heaven give success to their art, and b The general lawfulness of self-murder, was a doctrine by no means universally received in the ancient pagan world ; many of the most considerable names, both Greek and Roman, having expressly declared against that practice. Pythagoras, Socrates, Plato, Tully, have condemned it : even Brutus him- self, though he fell by his own hands, yet, in his cooler and philosophical hours, wrote a treatise*, wherein he highly con- demned Cato, as being guilty of an act both of impiety and cowardice, in destroying himself. The judicious Virgil also adopts the same sentiments, and represents such unhappy per- sons as in a state of punishment : Proximo delude tenent mcesti loca^ qui sibi letum Insontes peperere mamij lucemque perosi Projicere animam : Quam vellent cethere in alto^ JVWrtc 4" pauperism fy duros perferre la-bores t I ' Plut, in Brut. f JE&. vii. 434. Then 66 THE LETTERS BOOK I. and free me from this painful anxiety ! If that should happily be the event, I shall immediately retire to my favourite Laurentiniim, or, in other words, to my books and my studies. At present, so much of my time and thoughts are employed in attendance upon my friend, and in my appre- hensions for his life, that I have neither leisure nor inclination for subjects of literature. Thus have I informed you of my fears, my wishes, and my intentions. Communicate to me, in return, but in a gayer style, an account not only of what you are and have been doing, but even of your future designs. It will be a very sensible consolation to me in this distress of mind, to be assured that yours is easy. Farewel. LETTER XXIIL To POMPEIUS FALCO. 1 o u desire my opinion, whether you can with decency act as an advocate during your tri- buneship ? But before I determine that ques- tion, I must know what are your sentiments of that office ; whether you look upon it as a mere shadow Then crowds succeed, who prodigal of breath, Themselves anticipate the doom of death ; , Tho' free from guilt, they cast their lives away, And sad and sullen hate the golden day. Oh ! with what joy the wretches now wou'd bear Pain, toil, and woe, to breathe the vital air ! PITT. . See Book o. let* 13. note*. BOOK I. OF PLINY. 67 shadow of honour, and an empty title, or as a sacred and inviolable function, the exercise of which as no power can suspend, so neither ought the person himself who is invested with it ? When I was myself in that post, (possibly I might be mistaken in supposing I was become of any im- portance, however, upon the supposition that I really was) I entirely quitted the bar. I thought it unbecoming a magistrate, who, upon all occa- sions, had a right of precedency, and in whose presence every person is obliged to rise, to be seen standing, while all about him were seated ; that he who has authority to impose silence on any man, should himself be directed when ta cease speaking ; that he, whom it is held impi- ous to interrupt", should be exposed to the scur- rilous liberties of bar orators ; which, to chastise, would be thought a sort of insolence of office, and yet it would he weakness to overlook. I considered farther, the great difficulty I should be under, if either my client or his adversary should happen to appeal to me as tribune, whe- ther to interpose my authority, or, by a kind of resignation of my office, to act solely in my pri- vate capacity. For these reasons, I rather chose to officiate as the public magistrate, than the private advocate. But, with respect to you, (I repeat 6 As their characters were held sacred, it was esteemed the highest act of impiety to offer them any injury, or so much as to interrupt them when they were speaking. 68 THE LETTERS BOOK I. repeat it again) the whole depends upon what your sentiments are of the office in question, and under what character you would choose to ap- pear ; remembering- always, that a wise man will take upon himself such only as he is capable of sustaining with dignity. LETTER XXIV. To BEBIUS. MY friend and guest, Tranquillus, has an in- clination to purchase a small farm, of which, as I am informed, an acquaintance of yours intends to dispose. I beg you would endeavour he may ob- tain it upon reasonable terms ; which will add to his satisfaction in the purchase. A dear bargain is always disagreeable, particularly, as it is a re- flection upon the buyer's judgment. There are several circumstances attending this little villa, which (supposing my friend has no objection to the price) are extremely suitable to his taste and desires : the convenient distance from Rome, the goodness of the roads, the smallness of the build- ing, and the very few acres of land around it, Avhich are just enough to amuse, but not to em- ploy him. To a man of the literary turn that Tranquillus is, it is sufficient if he have but a small spot to relieve the mind and divert the eye, where he may saunter round his grounds, tra- verse BOOK I. OF PLINY. 69 verse his single walk, grow familiar with his two or three vines, and count his little plantations. I mention these particulars, to let you see how much he will be obliged to me, as I shall be to you, if you can help him to this convenient little box, at a price which he shall have no occasion to repent. Farewel. THE THE LETTERS OF BOOK. II. LETTER I. To VOCONIUS Ho MAN US. ROME has not for many years beheld a more magnificent and solemn spectacle, than was lately exhibited in the public funeral of that great man, the illustrious and fortunate 3 Virginius Rufus. He lived thirty years in the full enjoy- ment * The ancients seem to have considered fortune as a mark of merit in the person who was thus distinguished. Cicero (to borrow the observation of the excellent Mr. Addison) recom- mended Pompey to the Romans for their general, upon three accounts, as he was a man of courage, of conduct, andofgoo^ fortune ; and not only Sylla, the dictator, but several of the Roman emperors, as is still to be seen upon their medals, among other titles, gave themselves that offdix, or fortunate. 72 THE LETTERS BOOK II. ment of the highest reputation : and as he had the satisfaction to see his actions celebrated by poets, and recorded by historians, he seems even to have anticipated his fame with poste- rity. He was thrice raised to the dignity of consul; that he, who b refused to be the first of princes, might, at least, be the highest of subjects. 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 , was in quiet possession of the empire ; it seems as if Providence had pur- posely 6 At the time of the general defection from Nero, Virginiu* was at the head of ti very powerful army in Germany, which had pressed him, and even attempted to force him, to accept the title of emperor. But he constantly refused it ; adding, that he would not even suffer it to be given to any person but whom the senate should elect. With this army he marched against Vindex, who had put himself at the head of 100,000 Gauls, and having come up with him, gave him battle, in which Vindex was slain, and his forces entirely defeated. After this victory, when Nero's death was known in the army, the soldiers renewed their application to Virginius to accept the imperial dignity ; and though one of the tribunes rushed into his lent, and threat- ened that he should either receive the empire, or his sword through his body, he resolutely persisted in his former senti- ments. But as soon as the news of Nero's death was confirm- ed, and that the senate had declared for Galba, he prevailed with the army, though with much difficulty, to support that prince. Plutarch, in Galb. c The justness of this glorious title, the friend of mankind, which our author here gives to Nerva, is confirmed by the concurrent testimony of all the historians of these times. That excellent Book II. OF PLINY. 73 posely preserved him to these times, that he might receive the honour of a public funeral. He calmly expired in the 84th year of his age, universally esteemed and revered ; and had enjoyed an unin- terrupted state of health during his whole life, excepting only a paralytic tremor in his hands, which, however, was attended with no pain. His last sickness, indeed, was severe and tedious; but even that circumstance contributed to render his character the more laudable. As he was prepar- ing to return his public acknowledgments to the emperor, who had raised him to the consulship, a large volume which he accidentally received at that time, too weighty for a feeble old man, slipped out of his hands. In hastily endeavour- ing to recover it, the pavement being extremely slippery, he fell down and broke his thigh-bone; which fracture, as it was unskilfully set at first, and having, besides, the infirmities of age to con- tend with, could never be brought to unite again. The funeral obsequies paid to the memory of this great man, have done honour to the emperor, to the present age, and even to eloquence herself. The consul Cornelius Tacitus pronounced his funeral oration : and thus the series of his felici- ties excellent emperor's short reign seems, indeed, to-have 'been one uninterrupted series of generous and benevolent actions ; and he Used to express the satisfaction he felt of being conscious that lie had not committed a single act which could give just offence to any man. Dion, 1. 68. VOL, I. F 74 THE LETTERS BOOK II. tics was completed by the public applause of a most eloquent orator. He died full of years and of glory, as illustrious by the honours he refused as by those he accepted. Still, however, he will be missed and lamented by the world, as the shining model of a better age ; especially by my- self, who not only admired him as a patriot, but loved him as a friend. We were natives of the same province, and of neighbouring towns, and our estates also were contiguous. Besides these accidental connexions, he was likewise left guar- dian to me ; and, indeed, he always treated me with the affection of a parent. Whenever I of- fered myself a candidate for any employment in the state, he constantly supported me with his interest ; and although he had long since re- nounced all offices of this nature, he would kindly give up the repose of his retirement, and come in person to give me his suffrage. A t the season of the year when it is customary for the priests to nominate such as they judge worthy to be re- ceived into their sacred office/ he constantly pro- posed me. Even in his last sickness I received a distinguishing mark of his affection : for, being apprehensive he might be appointed, by the se- nate, 4 Namely, of augurs. " This college, as regulated by Sylla, " consisted of fifteen, who were all persons of the first distinc- " tion in Rome r it was a priesthood for life, of a character in- " dehble, which no crime or forfeiture could efface; it was ne- " cessary,' BOOK- II. OF PLINY. 75 natc, one of the five commissioners to reduce the public expences, he fixed upon me, young as I am, to carry his excuses, in preference to so many other friends of superior age and dignity; and, in a very obliging manner, assured me, that had he a son of his own, he would, nevertheless, have employed me in that office. Have I not cause then to lament his death, as if it were immature, and thus pour out the fulness of my grief into the bosom of my friend ? if, indeed, it be reason- able to grieve upon this occasion, or to esteem that event death, which, to such a man, is rather to be looked upon as the period of his mortality than the end of his life. He lives, my friend, and will continue to live for ever; and his fame will spread farther, and be more celebrated by mankind, now that he is removed from their sight. I had many other things to write to you, but my mind is too full of the present subject to turn it to any other. Virginius is constantly in my thoughts ; the vain but lively impressions of him are continually before my eyes, and I am for ever fondly imagining that I hear him, converse with him, and embrace him. We have still, per- haps, some citizens amongst us who may rival him *' cessary, 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 Cic. vi. 529. F 2 76 THE LETTERS BOOK II. him in virtue, and some may hereafter rise ; but not one, I am persuaded, that will ever equal him in glory. Farewel. LETTER II. To PAULINUS. I AM inclined to be angry with you : I am not quite sure I have reason, but angry however I am. Love, you know, is apt to be capricious, is fre- quently ungovernable, and ever jealous. The oc- casion of this my wrath is great, you must allow, were it just : yet taking it for granted that it is, I am vehemently angry at your long silence. Would you soften my resentment ? Let your let- ters, for the future, be very frequent, and very long ; I shall excuse you upon no other terms : and as absence from Rome, or engagement in business, is a plea I can by no means admit; so that of ill health may the gods avert ! As for myself, I am enjoying, at my villa, the alternate pleasures of study and indolence ; those happy privileges of uninterrupted leisure ! Farewel. LETTER BOOK II. OF PLINY. 77 LETTER III. To NEPOS. Vv E had received very advantageous accounts of Isasus, before his arrival ; but he is superior to all that was reported of him. He possesses the ut- most facility and copiousness of expression, and his unpremeditated lectures have all the correct- ness and elegance of the most studied and elabo- rate composition. He delivers them in the Greek language, or rather the genuine Attic. His exor- diums are polite, easy, and harmonious ; and, when the subject requires, solemn and majestic. He gives his audience liberty to call for any question they please, and sometimes even to name what side of it he shall take; \vhenimmediately he rises up in all the graceful attitude of an orator, and enters at once into the discussion with surprising fluency. His reflections are solid, and clothed in the choicest expressions, which present themselves to him with- out the least hesitation. The ease and strength of his most unprepared discourses plainly discover that he has been very conversant in the best au- thors, and much accustomed to compose himself. He opens the topic with great propriety; his style is clear, his reasoning strong, his inferences just, and his figures are both graceful and sublime. In a word, he at once instructs, entertains, and affects F 3 you; 78 THE LETTERS BOOK II. you ; and he possesses each of those powers in so eminent a degree, that you are at a loss to deter- mine in which he most excels. His arguments are formed with all the strength and closeness of the strictest logic; a point not very easy to attain even in studied compositions. His memory is so extraordinary, that he will repeat what he has before delivered 'extempore, without losing a single word. This wonderful faculty he has ac- quired by great application and practice ; for his whole time is so devoted 'to 'subjects of this na- ture, that he thinks and talks of nothing else. Though he is above sixty-three years of age, h.e still chooses to continue in this "profession ; than which, it must be owned, none abounds with men of more merit, simplicity, and integrity; We who arc conversant in the real contentions of the bar, unavoidably contract a certain petu- lance, how contrary soever to our natural tem- pers ; but the business of the schools, as it turns merely upon fictitious causes, affords an employ- ment not only unapt to excite the angry passions, but particularly agreeable to those who are ad- vanced in years, especially as nothing can be more desirable at that period of life, than to enjoy those rational satisfactions which were the most pleasing occupations of our youth. I look, therefore, upon Isasus, not only as the most eloquent, but the most happy of men ; as I shall esteem you the BOOK II. OF PLINY. 79 the most insensible, if you should appear to slight his acquaintance. Let me prevail with you then to come to Rome, if not upon my account, or any other cause, at least, for the pleasure of hearing this extraordinary person. Do you re- member to have read of a certain inhabitant of the city of Cadiz, who was so struck with the illustrious character of Livy, that he travelled to Rome on purpose to see that great genius ; and, as soon as he had satisfied his curiosity, returned home ? A man must have a very illiberal, and in- curious (I had almost said a very insensible) cast of mind, not to think whatever relates to a sci- ence, so entertaining, so noble, and so elegant, worthy of his attention. You will tell me, per- haps, you have authors, in your own study, equally eloquent. I allow it; and those authors you may peruse at any time, but you cannot al- ways have an opportunity of being an auditor of Isaeus. Besides, we are infinitely more affected with what we hear, than what we read. There is some- thing in the voice, the countenance, the habit 3 , and the * The ancients thought every thing that concerned an ora- tor, worthy of their attention, even to his very dress. Ovid mentions the habit, as well as the air and mien ot Germanicus, as expressive of his eloquence: Dum silens adstat, status est vultusque diserti, Spemque decens doctee vocis araictus habct. De Font. 1. 2. 5. . Ere yet he speaks, the orator is seen In all the eloquence of garb and mien. F 4 Arl 80 THE LETTERS BOOK II. the gesture of the speaker, that concur in fixing an impression upon the mind, and give this me- thod of instruction greatly the advantage of any thing one can receive from books. This, at least, was the opinion of ^Eschines, who, having read to the Rhodians a speech of Demosthenes, which they loudly applauded ; " but how" said he, " would you have been affected, had you heard " the orator himself thundering out this sub- " lime harangue ?" Eschines, if we may believe Demosthenes, had great force and dignity of utterance; yet, you see, he could not but con- fess it would have been a considerable advantage to the oration, if it had been pronounced by the author himself, in all the strength and energy of his powerful elocution. What I aim at by this, is, to persuade you to hear Isaus ; if for no other reason, at least, that you may have it to say you once heard him. Farewel. LETTER And the author of the dialogue de Orat. 3<). goes so far as to assign the use of a certain confined garment then in vogue, among the reasons which gave a check to the ancient spirit of eloquence; as the judicious Quintilian thought it deserving his pains, to lay down very precise rules upon the article of his orator's garments. Vid. Inst. Orat. 1. 11. 3. BOOK II. OF PLINY. 81 LETTER IV, To CALVINA. IF your father had left several creditors ; or, in- deed, a single one except myself; you might, justly, perhaps, scruple a to enter upon his estate, which, with such encumbrances, might prove a burthen too heavy even for one of our sex to un- dertake. But since, out of regard to the affinity that subsisted between us, I was contented to remain the only person unsatisfied, who had any demand upon the estate, while other creditors, I will not say more importunate, but certainly more cautious, were paid off; and as I contributed 100,000 sesterces" towards your marriage por- tion, over and above the sum your father charg- ed upon this estate for your fortune, which may be esteemed my gift too, as it was to be paid out of a fund before appropriated to me. When you consider these instances of my friendship, you can want no stronger pledge that you will find me an easy creditor. In this confidence, you should not scruple to enter upon your inheri- tance ; and, by that means, protect the memory of your father from the reproach of dying insol- vent. * By the ancient Roman law, the heir, if he entered upon th estate, was liable to the debts of the testator or ancestor, even though the estate were not sufficient to pny them. b About 8001. of our money. 82 THE LETTERS BOOK II. vent. But that I may give you a more substan- tial encouragement than mere words, I entirely acquit you of the debt he owed me. Do not he- sitate to receive this present at my hands, upon the supposition that I can ill spare so large a sum. It is true, my revenue is but moderate : the expences which the dignity of my station re- quires, are considerable; while the yearly income of mv estate, from the nature and circumstances V of it, is as uncertain as it is small : yet, what I want in wealth, I make up by oeconomy, the sur- est source that supplies my bounty. I must be cautious, no doubt, not to exhaust it by too much profusion ; but it is a caution which I shall observe towards others : with respect to yourself, reason will justify my liberality, though it should overflow its proper bounds. Farewel. LETTER V. To LUPERCUS. I SEND you, at last, the .piece you have so often desired, and which I have as frequently promis- ed, but it is a part only; the remainder I am still polishing. In the mean while, I thought there would be no impropriety in laying before you such portions as were most correct. I beg you to read it with the same attention that I wrote it ; for I never was engaged in any work 1 that BOOK II. OF PUNY. 83 that required so much. In my former speeches, diligence and integrity only were required ; in the present, I had to manifest my patriotism. But, while I dwelt with pleasure upon the honour of my native country, and endeavoured not only to support its rights, but heighten its glory; my oration swelled insensibly. However, I request you to abridge even those favourite topics, wher- ever you find it necessary ; for, when I consider the fastidious delicacy of my readers, I am sen- sible the surest recommendation I can have to their favour, is by the shortness of the trouble I give them. But at the same time that I abandon my performance to your utmost severity in this instance, I must ask quarter for it in several others. Some consideration ought to be had to the taste of young people, especially where the subject admits of it. In vie\v to this, I have given myself a latitude in describing those places which are frequently mentioned in this per- formance ; and have ventured to treat them not only historically, but poetically. If any austere critic should take offence at this liberty, and think it too tlorid for the gravity of this sort of composition ; the other parts of the ora- tion will, I trust, satisfy his severity, and obtain indulgence for these its gayer colourings, fch^ve, indeed, endeavoured to gain my seve- ral readers by adapting my style to their different turns. 84 THE LETTERS BOOK II. turns. And though I am afraid there are some passages that will displease particular persons, as not falling in with their peculiar taste; yet, noon the whole, its variety, I trust, will recom- mend it in general: as at an elegant entertain- ment, though we do not, perhaps, taste of every dish, yet we may admire the general disposition of the whole ; and, if we happen to meet with some part of the fare which is not to our palate, we are not the less pleased, however, with what is. I am not so vain as to pretend I have actually furnished out such collation ; I would be only understood to mean that I have made the at- tempt: and, perhaps, not altogether without suc- cess, if you will exercise your skill upon what I now and shall hereafter send. You will tell me, I know, that you can form no certain judgment till you see the whole, There is some truth in this, I confess : nevertheless, for the present, you may acquaint yourself with this detached part, wherein you will find some things, perhaps, that will bear a separate examination. If you were to be shewn the head, or any other part of a statue, though you could not determine what proportion it bore to the entire figure, yet, you would be able to judge of the elegancy of that particular member. From what other principle is it, that specimens of books are handed about, but that it is supposed the beauties of particular ; portions BOOK II. OF PLINY. 85 portions may be discerned, without viewing their relation to the whole ? The pleasure I receive in conversing with you has carried me a greater length than I intended. But I stop here; for it is not reasonable that I, who am for setting bounds even to a speech, should set none to a letter. FareweL LETTER VI. To AVITUS. IT would be a long story, and of no great im- portance, to tell you by what accident I supped lately with a person, with whom I am by no means intimate, and who, in his own opinion, treated us with much splendid frugality : but, ac- cording to mine, in a sordid, yet expensive man- ner. Some very elegant dishes were served up to himself and a few more of us ; while those which were placed before the rest of the company were extremely cheap and mean. There were, in small bottles, three different sorts of wine; not that the guests might take their choice, but that they might not have an option in their power. The best was for himself and his friends of the first rank ; the next for those of a lower order, (for, you must know, he measures out his friendship according to the degrees of quality) and the third for his own and his guests freed men. One who 86 THE LETTERS BOOK IT. who sat near me, took notice of this circum- stance, and asked me how I approved of it? Not at all, I replied. Pray then, said he, what is your method on such occasions? Mine, I returned, is to give all my visitors an equal reception : for when I make an invitation, it is to entertain, not to distinguish, my company : I set every man upon a level with myself whom I admit to my ta- ble, not excepting even my freedmen, whom I look upon, at those times, to be my guests, as much as any or' the rest. At this he expressed some surprise, and asked if I did not find it a very expensive method ? I assured him, not at all ; and that the whole secret lay, in being contented to drink no better \vine myself than I gave to others. And, certainly, if a man is wise enough to moderate his own luxury, he will not find it so very chargeable a thing to entertain all his vi- sitors in general, as he does himself. Restrain the delicacy of your own palate within proper bounds, if you would be an oeconomist in good earnest: you will find temperance a much better mode of saving expences, than such reproach- ful distinctions. It were pity a young man of your excellent disposition should be imposed upon by the immoderate luxury which prevails at some tables, under the false notion of fruga- lity : whenever any folly of this nature falls with- in my observation, I shall, in consequence of that affection BOOK II. OF PLINY. 87 affection I bear you, point it out to you, as an example which you ought to shun. Remember, therefore, nothing is more to be avoided than this modern alliance of luxury with sordidness ; qualities extremely odious, when existing in dis- tinct characters, but much more when they meet in the same person. Farewel. LETTER VII. To MACRINUS. IHE senate decreed yesterday, at the recom- mendation of the emperor, a triumphal statue to Vestricius Spurinna ; not as to many others who never saw a field of battle, or heard the sound of a trumpet, unless at a shew ; but, as to one, who, by his martial virtues, has justly merited that ho- nour. Spurinna, by the power of his arms, re- stored the king of the Briicteri* to his throne : and this, by a victory, of all others the most no- ble ; for he struck such a terror into that warlike people, that they submitted at the very first view of his troops. But, at the same time, that the senate rewarded him as a hero, they considered him as a father ; and, to console him for the loss of his son Cottius, who died during his absence upon that expedition, they voted, likewise, a sta- tue a A people of Germany, supposed to have inhabited the country about Rees and,Eraerick, in the duchy of Cleves. 88 THE LETTERS BOOK II. tue to that excellent youth : a very unusual ho- nour for a person of his early years ; hut the ser- vices'of the father, well deserved that the pain of so severe a wound should be soothed by no com- mon balm. Indeed Cottius, himself, gave so re- markable a specimen of the noblest qualities, that it is but reasonable his life, which had so short a period, should be extended, as it were, by this kind of immortality. The purity of his man- ners, and the dignity of his behaviour, created him such general respect, that he has a just claim to equal those venerable persons in honour, whom he rivalled in virtue ; an honour, if I mistake not, conferred not only to perpetuate the memory of the deceased youth, and in consolation to the surviving father, but for" the sake of public ex- ample. The young men of this age will be hence encouraged to cultivate every worthy principle, when they see such distinguishing rewards be- stowed upon one of their own years : at the same time, that men of quality will rejoice in having a numerous issue, while they may expect the satis- faction of leaving a worthy race, if their children should survive them ; or so glorious a consola- tion,- if they should survive their children. For the sake of the public, therefore, I am glad that a statue is decreed to Cottius : and so, indeed, I am for my own ; for I loved this accomplished youth as ardently, as I now tenderly regret him. It BOOK II. OF PLINY. 39 It will be a great satisfaction to me to see this figure as I may occasionally pass by, and to stop sometimes to contemplate it. If there is a plea- sure in looking upon the pictures of departed friends in our own house, how much more upon those public representations of them, which are not only memorials of their air and countenance, but of their glory and honour. Farewel. LETTER VIII. To CAN i ?: i us. flow is my friend employed ? Is it in the plea- sures of study, or in those of the field ? Or does he unite* both, as he well may, on the banks of our favourite Larius b ? The fish, in that noble lake, will supply you with sport of that kind ; as the surrounding woods will afford you game; while the solemnity of that sequestered scene will, at the same time, dispose your mind to contem- plation. Whether you are engaged with some only, or with each of these agreeable amusements, far be it that I should say I envy you ; but I must confess, I greatly regret that I also cannot par- take of them : a happiness I long for, as earnest- ly as a man in a fever for drink to allay his thirst, or for baths and fountains to assuage his heat. But ' B. 1. Let. 6. in not. b Now called Lago di Como, in the Milanese. Comum, the place where Pliny was born, and near to which Caninius had a country house, was situated upon the border of this lake. VOL. I. G 96 THE LETTERS BOOK II. But if it be not given me to see a conclusion of these unpleasant occupations ; shall I never, at least, break loose from them ? Never, indeed, I much fear ; for new affairs are daily rising, while the former still remain unfinished : such an end- less train of business is continually pressing upon me, and riveting my chains still faster ! Farewel. LETTER IX. To APOLLINARIS. I AM extremely anxious for the success of the petition, which Euritius has presented to the se- nate ; and I feel for my friend, what I never felt for myself. My credit and character are, indeed, in some measure at stake. I obtained for him, of Caesar, the honour of wearing the laticlavt*, and also the office of quasstor ; as it is by my interest too that he is indulged with the privilege of pe- titioning for the tribunate : which, if the senate should refuse him, I am afraid it will be thought I imposed upon the emperor. I must, therefore, in support of my own character, endeavour that the judgment of the public may confirm the opinion which Caesar has conceived of him, by my re- presentation. a The laticlave was some honourable distinction peculiar, in the times of the republic, to the senators ; but whether a par- ticular sort of garment, or only an ornament upon it, the cri- tics are not agreed. Though the more general opinion is, that it was a broad stripe of purple, sewed upon the fore part of their tunic, and ran round the middle of the breast. BOOK II. OF PLINY. $1 presentation. But if I were not, for these reasons, obliged to interest myself in the success of Euri- tius, yet his probity, good sense, and learning, would incline me to assist him with my utmost power; as, indeed, he and his whole family are de- serving of the highest commendation. His father, Euritus Clarus, is a man of strict honour and an- cient simplicity of manners; and not only an able, eloquent, and experienced advocate, but defends every cause he undertakes with a courage and in- tegrity, no less to his honour than his singular modesty. Septitius, his uncle, is one of the most plain, open, sincere, and candid men I ever knew. There is a friendly contention amongst them who shall shew me most affection ; which I am per- . suaded they all equally feel for me. I have now an opportunity of obliging the whole family, in the single person of Euritius : accordingly, I so- licit all my friends with the utmost earnestness, apply to them at their own houses, and every place of public resort ; in a word, exert my whole power and credit to serve him. I must beg of you, likewise, to take some share of this trouble with me : I will return you the same good office whenever you shall require it, and even without your request As you have many friends, ad- mirers, and dependents ; it is but shewing your- self a well-wisher to Euritius in this affair, and numbers will be ready to second your inclina- tions. Farewel. G 2 LETTER 92 THE LETTERS BOOK II. LETTER X. To OCTAVIUS. You ar6 certainly a most obstinate, I had al- most said a most cruel man, thus to withhold from the world such excellent compositions ! How long do you intend to deny your friends the pleasure, and yourself the glory, of your poetical performances ? Suffer them, I entreat you, to come abroad, and to be admired ; as admired they undoubtedly will be wherever the Roman language is understood. The public has for some time earnestly expected them ; and you ought not to disappoint or mortify its impatience any longer. Some few poems of yours have already, contrary to your inclinations indeed, broke their prison, and escaped to light : these, if you do not collect together, some person or other will claim the agreeable wanderers as their own. Remem- ber, my friend, the mortality of human nature, and that there is nothing so likely to preserve your name as a monument of this kind; allothers are as frail and perishable as the men whose me- mory they pretend to perpetuate. You will say, I suppose, -as usual, Let my friends see to that. May you find many whose care, fidelity, and eru- dition render them able and willing to undertake so considerable a charge ! But surely it is not al- together prudent in any man to expectfrom others, what BOOK II. OF PLINY. 9S what he will not do for himself. However, as to the publication, I will press you no farther ; be that when you shall think proper. But let me, at least, prevail with you to recite them, that you may be the more disposed to send them abroad, from the very flattering reception which I may venture to assure you they will receive from the assembly. I please myself with imagining the crowd, the admiration, the applause, and even the silence that will attend your recital : for the silence of an audience, when it proceeds from an earnest desire of hearing, is as agreeable to me as the loudest approbation. Do not then, by this un- reasonable delicacy, deny yourself any longer the very desirable and certain fruit of your studies : if you should, the world, I fear, will be apt to charge you with idleness and indolence, or, perhaps, with timidity. Farewel. LETTER XL To ARRIANUS. You take pleasure, I know, in a relation of any thing that is transacted in the senate, worthy of that august assembly : for though love of ease has led you into retirement, your heart still retains its zeal for the majesty of the commonwealth. Accept then the following account of what lately passed in that venerable body : a transaction for ever memo- G 3 rable 94 THE LETTERS BOOK II. rable by its importance, and not only remarkable by the quality of the person concerned, but use- ful by the severity of the example. Marius Pris- cus, formerly proconsul of Africa, being impeach- ed by that province, instead of entering upon his defence, petitioned that a commission of select judges might be appointed for his trial. Corne- lius Tacitus and myself, being assigned by the se- nate counsel for that province, thought it our du- ty to inform the house, that the crimes alledged dgainst Priscus were of too atrocious a nature to fall within the cognizance of an inferior court : for he was charged with venality in the admi- nistration of justice, and even of taking money to pass sentence of death upon persons perfectly innocent. Fronto Catius rose in his behalf, and moved that the whole enquiry might be confined to the single article of bribery; displaying, upon this occasion, all the force of that pathetic elo- quence he is master of, in order to raise the com- passion of the senate. The debates grew warm, and the members were much divided in their sentiments. Some were of opinion, that it was a matter which did not legally come under the discussion of the senate : others, that the house was at liberty to proceed upon it, or not, as it should see proper: and that none of his dif- ferent crimes ought to escape the hand of jus- tice. At last Julius Ferox, the consul elect, a man BOOK II. OF PLINY. 95 man of great worth and integrity, proposed that judges should be granted him provisionally, and, in the mean while, that those persons should be proceeded against, to whom it was alledged he had sold innocent blood. Not only the majo- rity of the senate gave into this opinion ; but, after all the contention that had been raised, it was generally adopted. I could not but ob- serve, upon this occasion, that sentiments of compassion, though they at first operate with great force, give way at last to the cool dic- tates of reason and reflection ; and that num- bers will support an opinion by joining in the general voice, which they would never singly and deliberately defend. The fact is, there is no discerning the right side of a question amidst the confused clamours of a crowd ; one must consider it apart, if one would view it in its true light. Vitellius Honoratus, and Flavius Martianus, the persons who were ordered to be summoned, were brought before the house. Ho* noratus was charged with having given three hundred thousand sesterces'" to procure a sen- tence of banishment against a Roman knight, as also the capital conviction of seven of his friends. Against Martianus it was alledged, that he gave seven hundred thousand , in order to procure b About 24001. of our money. About 56'00l. of our money, G 4 96 THE LETTERS BOOK II. procure another person to be condemned to suffer various tortures ; which were accordingly in- flicted, and the unhappy man was first whipped, afterwards sent to work in the mines, and at last strangled in prison. But the death of Honora- tus prevented the justice of the senate upon him. Martianus, however, appeared, but without Pris- cus. Tullius Cerealis, therefore, who had been formerly consul, thought proper to move, agree- ably to his privilege as a senator, that Priscus might have notice of the business then before tha house: whether it was because he thought his being present would raise more compassion, or more resentment towards him ; or because, as I am inclined to believe, he thought it most equi- table, that as the charge was against them both, so they should both join in the defence, and be acquitted or condemned together. The affair was adjourned to the next meeting of the senate, which proved the most august and solemn I was ever present at. The emperor himself (for he was consul) presided. It happened likewise to be the month of January* ; a season remarkable upon many accounts, and particularly for the great number of senators it always brings toge- ther. Not only the importance of the cause, the noise it had made in the world, the expectation that * In this month the several magistrates entered upon their respective offices. BOOK II. OF PLINY. 07 that had been raised by the several adjournments, but that innate curiosity in mankind to acquaint themselves with every thing remarkable and un- common, drew the people from all parts. Figure to yourself the concern and anxiety which we who were to speak before such an awful assem- bly, and in the presence of the prince, must have felt ! I have often pleaded in the senate ; and, indeed, there is no place where I am more fa- vourably heard ; yet, as if the scene had been en- tirely new to me, I found myself under an unu- sual distress upon this occasion. Besides, there was something in the circumstances of the per- son accused, which added considerably to the dif- ficulties I laboured under: a man, once of consu- lar dignity, and a member of the sacred college, now stood before me, stripped of all his honours. It was a painful office, I thought, to accuse one who appeared already condemned; and for whom, therefore, though his crimes were enor- mous, compassion took its turn, and seemed to plead in his behalf. However, I collected my- self enough to begin my speech ; and the ap- plause I received was equal to the fears I had suffered. I spoke almost five hours successively, (for they indulged me above an hour beyond the time at first allotted to me) and what, at my first setting out, had most contributed to raise my apprehensions, proved, in the event, greatly to my advantage. 98 THE LETTERS BOOK II. advantage. The goodness, the care (I dare not say the solicitude) of the emperor, were so great towards me, that he frequently spoke to one of my attendants, who stood behind me, to desire me to spare myself; imagining I should exert my strength beyond what the weakness of my constitution would admit. Claudius Marcellinus replied in behalf of Martianus ; after which, the assembly broke up till the next day; for the evening e coming on, there was not time to pro- ceed farther. The next day, Salvius Liberalis, a very clear, acute, and spirited orator, spoke in defence of Priscus ; and he exerted all his talents upon this occasion. C. Tacitus replied to him in a strain of the most powerful eloquence, and with a certain dignity which distinguishes all his speeches. Fronto Catius rose a second time in favour of Priscus,. and, in a very impressive speech, endeavoured, as, indeed, the case re- quired, rather to soften the judges, than defend his client. The evening coming on, the senate proceeded no farther that day, but met the next, and entered upon the proofs. It was much to the honour of the senate, and worthy of ancient Rome, e It was not lawful, says one of the commentators, for the senate to assemble before sun-rise, nor to continue after sun- set, and quotes Gellius in support of this opinion. But either this custom was not received in Pliny's time, or Gellius must be understood to mean what Mr. Kennet expressly says, that no decree of the senate could pass after sun-set. For that the house actually sat after that time, appears from B. 4. Let. 9. Dixit in noctcm t atque etiam nocte, illatis lusernis. BOOK II. OF PLINY. 0.9 Rome, thus to be adjourned only by the night, and- then re-assemble for three days successively. The excellent Cornutus Tertulius, consul elect, ever firm in the cause of truth, moved that Ma- rius should pay into the treasury the 700,000 sesterces f he had received, and be banished Italy. Tertulius was for extending the sentence still far- ther with respect to Martianus, and proposed that he should be banished even from Africa. He concluded with adding, that Tacitus and I having faithfully and diligently discharged the parts assigned to us, the senate should declare we had executed our trust to their satisfaction. The consuls elect, and those who had already enjoyed that office, agreed with Tertulius, except Pom- peius : he moved that Priscus should pay the se- ven hundred thousand sesterces into the trea- sury, but suffer no other punishment than what had been already inflicted upon him for extor- tion 3 : as for Marianus, he was for having him banished during five years only. There was a large party for both opinions, and perhaps the majority secretly inclined to the milder sentence ; for many of those who appeared at first to agree with Tertulius, seemed afterwards inclined to join with Pompeius. But, upon a division of the house, all those who stood near the consuls, went over f Honoratus being dead, that part of the charge against Ma- rius which related to his taking three hundred thousand ses- terces of him, could not, it seems, be proved. * A forfeiture of four times the sum received. 100 THE LETTERS BOOK II. over to the side of Tertullus. This being ob- served by the party of Pompeius, they also de- serted him in the same manner; so that he was extremely exasperated against those who had urged him to this vote, particularly against Re- gulus, whom he upbraided for abandoning him in a step which he himself had advised. There is, indeed, such an inconsistency in the general character of Regulus, that he is at once both bold and timorous. Thus ended this important trial ; but there remains a considerable part of the business still behind. It is concerning Hos- tilius Firminus, lieutenant to Marius Priscus, who is strongly charged with being an accomplice ; as it appears by the account books of Martianus, and by a speech which he made in an assembly of the people at Leptis h , that he had exacted fifty thousand denarii 1 of Martianus ; that he was also accessary to the wicked administration of Priscus ; and that he received ten thousand ses- terces 1 ' under the title of his perfumer: an office perfectly well adapted to this efTeminate fop, who is all over essence and perfume. It was agreed, on the motion of Tertullus, to proceed against him h In Africa. ! About 14581. of our money The t)enarius was the chief silver coin among the Romans. Mr. Greaves (who, as Dr. Arbuthnot observes, may be justly reckoned a clasbical author upon this subject) has valued it at seven-pence three farthings, [Tab. Coins, 1.] But, to avoid fractions, it is here considered as only equivalent to seven-pence English. k About 801. of our money. BOOK II. OF PLINY. 101 him the next meeting of the senate; for, either by accident or design, he was at this time absent. Thus have I given you an account of what is doing in town. Let me know, in return, the news of the country : how your shrubs and your vineyards, your corn and your delicate flocks of sheep flourish ? In a word, if you should not send me a long letter, you must expect, for the future to be punished in your own way, and to receive none but short ones from me. Farewel. LETTER XIL To the Same. 1 HE remaining part of the enquiry which I men- tioned to you in my former letter, concerning the affair of Priscus, is at last, I will not say ter- minated as it ought; however, it is finished. Fir- minus being brought before the senate, made such a sort of defence as a man generally does who is conscious of detected guiit. The consuls elect were much divided what sentence to pass. Cornutus Tertullus moved he should be expelled the senate ; but Ncrva, with more artifice, pro- posed, that he should be only declared for ever incapable of holding the office of proconsul ; and this, as it had the appearance of a milder sen- tence, prevailed ; though, in truth, it is of all others the most severe. For can any situation be more wretched, than to be obliged to undergo the 102 THE LETTERS BOOK II. the fatigue of a member of the senate, at the same time that one is cut off from all hopes of enjoying those honours, to which a senator is entitled ? And, after having received such an ignominy, were it not better to be for ever buried in retirement, than to be marked out by so con- spicuous a station, to the view and scorn of the world ? Besides, to consider this with respect to the public ; what can -be more unbecoming the dignity of the senate, than to suffer a person to retain his seat in the house, after having been publicly censured by that august assembly ? What can be more indecent than for the criminal to be ranked with his judges ? For a man, ex- cluded the proconsulship, because he behaved in- famously as a lieutenant 1 , to sit in judgment upon proconsuls ? For one proved guilty of ex- trotion, to condemn or acquit others of similar crimes ? Yet, these reflections, it seems, made no impression upon the majority. Votes go by number, not weight; nor can it t>e other- wise in assemblies of this kind, where nothing is more unequal than that equality which prevails in them : for though every member has the same right of suffrage, every member has not the same strength of judgment to direct it. I have * The lieutenant accompanied the proconsul or governor, for the judging of inferior causes, and the management of all smaller concerns, every thing of moment being referred to the immediate care of the governor. BOOK II. OF PLINY. . 103 I have thus discharged the promise I gave you in my last letter, which, by this time, I imagine (unless any accident should have befallen the messenger) has reached your hands ; for I trust- ed the conveyance to one, of whose diligence and fidelity I am well assured. I hope you will now, on your part, make me as full a return for this and my former, as the scene you are in will af- ford. Farevvel. L'ETTER XIII. To PRISCUS. As I know you gladly embrace every opportu- nity of obliging me, so there is no man to whom I had rather be obliged. I apply to you, there- fore, preferably, to any other person, for a favour which I am extremely desirous of obtaining. You, who are commander in chief of a very con- siderable army, have many opportunities of exer- cising 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: they are but a few, indeed, for whom I shall so- licit you ; though your generous disposition, I know, would be better pleased if the number were greater. But it would ill become me to trouble you with recommending more than one 1 or 104 THE LETTERS BOOK II. or two : at present, I will only mention Voco- nius Romanus. His father was of great distinc- tion among the Roman knights ; and his father- in-law, or, as 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 the strict- ness of their manners. As for himself, he has been lately admitted into the sacred order of priesthood. Our friendship began with our stu- dies, and we were early united in the closest inti- macy. We lived together under the same roof, both in town and country ; and he was a party in my most serious and my gayest hours : where, indeed, could I have found a more faithful friend, or more agreeable companion ? In his conver- sation, and even in his very voice and counte- nance, there is the most amiable sweetness ; as at the bar he discovers an elevated genius, an easy and harmonious elocution, a clear and penetrat- ing apprehension. He has so happy a turn for epistolary writing*, that were you to read his letters, * It appears from this, and some other passages in these let- ters, that the art of epistolary writing was esteemed, by the Ro- mans, in the number of liberal and polite accomplishments ; and we find Cicero mentioning, with great pleasure, in some of his letters to Atticus, the elegant specimen he had received from, his BOOK II. OF PLINY. lO.i letters, you would imagine they had been die- tated by the Muses themselves. 1 love him with a more than common affection ; and I know he returns it with equal ardour. - Even in the earlier part of our lives, I warmly embraced every op- portunity of doing him all the good offices which then lay in my power ; as I have lately obtained for his son, of his genius in this way. [Ad Alt. 1. xv. 16, 17-] It seems x indeed, to have formed part of their education; as, in the opinion of Mr. Locke, it well deserves to have a share in ours. " The writing of letters (as that judicious author ob- ' serves) enters so much into all the occasions of life, that no ' gentleman can avoid shewing himself in compositions of this kind. Occurrences will daily force him to make this use of ' his pen, which lays open his breeding, his sense, and bis abi- ' lities, to a severer examination than any oral discourse." [Treat, on Educ. 86.] Pliny was of the same opinion ; for, in a subsequent t letter, wherein he lays down a method of study to one who desired his sentiments upon that head, he particularly recommends to him performances of this kind. It is to be won- dered we have so few writers in our own language who deserve to be pointed out as models upon such an occasion. After hav- ing named Sir William Temple, it would be difficult, perhaps, to add a second. The elegant writer of Mr. Cowley's life, mentions him as excelling in this uncommon talent; but as that author declares himself of opinion, " that letters which pa's " between familiar friends, if they are written as they should " be, can scarce ever be fit to see the light," the world is un- luckily deprived of what, no doubt, would have been well worth its inspection. A late distinguished genius treats the very attempt as ridiculous, " and professes himself a mortal enemy " to what they call a fine letter." His aversion, however, was not so strong but he knew how to conquer it when he thought proper, and the letter which closes his correspondence with bishop Atterbury, is, perhaps, the most genteel and manly ad- dress that ever was penned to a friend in disgrace. The tn.t!i is, a fine letter doea not consist in saying fine things, but ex- pressing ordinary ones in an uncommon manner. It is the proprie f B. 7. Let. 9. VOL. I. H 106 THE LETTERS BOOK II. for him of the emperor b , the privilege granted to those who have three children : a privilege, which, though Ceesar very rarely bestows, and always with great caution, yet he conferred, at ' my request, in such a manner, as to give it the air and grace of being his own choice. The best way of shewing that I think he deserves the obli- gations he has already received from me, is, by increasing them, especially as he always ac- cepts my services with so much gratitude as to merit farther. Thus I have given you a faithful account of Romanus, and informed you how thoroughly I have experienced his worth, and how much I love him. Let me entreat you to honour him with your patronage in a way suitable to the ge- nerosity of your heart, and the eminence of your station. proprie communia diccre, tbe art of giving grace and elegance to familiar occurrences, that constitutes the merit of this kind of writing. Mr. Gay's letter concerning the two lovers who were struck dead with the same flash oflightning, is a roaster-piece of the sort; and the specimen he has there given of his talents for this species of composition, makes it much to be regretted we have not more from the same hand : we might then have equalled, if not excelled, our neighbours, the French, in this, as we have in every other branch of polite literature, and have found a name among our own countrymen to mention with th easy Voiture. b Trajan. c By a law passed A. U. 762, it was enacted, that every citi- zen of Rome, who had three children, should be excused from all troublesome offices where he lived. This privilege the em- perors sometimes extended to those who were not legally en- titled to it. See book 7. let. 16. in not. and book 10. let. 95. in pot. BOOK II. OF PLINY. 107 station. But, above all, admit him into a share of your affection ; for, though you were to con- fer upon him the utmost you have in your power to bestow, you can give him nothing so valuable as your friendship : and that you may be assured he is worthy of it, even to the highest degree of intimacy, I send you this short sketch of his character. I should continue my intercessions in his behalf, but that I am persuaded you do not require to be importuned, and I have already re- peated them in every line of this letter ; for, to shew a just reason for what one asks, is to inter- cede in the strongest manner. Farewel. LETTER XIV. To MAXIMUS. I o u guessed right ; I am much engaged in pleading before the centumviri : but the business there has more of fatigue than pleasure. The causes are generally of small moment, and it is very seldom that any thing considerable, either from the importance of the question, or the rank of the persons concerned, comes before them. There is another disagreeable circumstance at- tending it ; there are very few lawyers who fre- quent this court, with whom I can take any sort of satisfaction in being joined. The greater part is composed of a parcel of impudent obscure young H 2 men, 108 THE LETTERS BOOK II. men, who come hither from declaiming in the schools : and behave with so much irreverence and impropriety, that my friend Attilius well observed, " Our youth set out at the bar with " centumviral causes, as they do at the acade- " mies with Homer;" intimating, that, in. both places, they begin where they should end. But, \\\ former times (to use an old man's phrase) it was not customary for the youth, even of the best families, to appear in this court, unless intro- duced by some person of consular dignity : such wa$ the respect which our ancestors entertained for this noble profession ! But now, since every fence of modesty and decorum is broken down, and all distinctions levelled and confounded, the youth of our days are so far from waiting to be in- troduced, that they rudely rush in uninvited. The audience that follow them are fit attendants upon such orators ; a low rout of hired mercenaries, assembling, them selves in the middle of the court, where the dole is dealt round to them as openly, as if they were in a private dining-room : and at this noble price they run from ctnirt to court ! The Greeks have a name in their language for this sort of people, importing that they are ap- plauders by profession ; and we stigmatize them with the opprobrious title of table-flatterers ; yet, the meanness alluded to, in both languages, in- creases every clay. It was but yesterday, two of mv BOOK II. OF PLIXY. 109 my domestic officers 11 , mere striplings, were hired for this goodly purpose at the price of three de- narii 15 : such is the easy purchase of eloquence ! Upon these honourable terms, we fill our benches, and gather a circle ; and thus it is those vocife- rous shouts are raised, when a man, who stands in the middle of the ring, gives the word. For you must know, these honest fellows, who un- derstand 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 those that do not hear a syllable, are as clamorous in their praises as any of the rest. If, at any time, you should happen to pass by while the court is sit- ting, and would know the merit of any of our advocates, you have no occasion to give yourself the trouble of listening to them : take it for a rule, he that has the loudest commendations, de- serves them the least. Largius Licinius was the first who gave rise to this custom ; but then he went no farther than to solicit an audience. I remeYnber to have heard my tutor, Quinctilian, say, that Domitius Afer, as he was pleading be- fore the centumviri, in his usual grave and so- lemn manner, heard, on a sudden, a most immo- derate * In the original ills nomenclatores, a kind of master of the Ce- remonies, whose business it was to announce the names of the clients and dependants as he severally introduced them to the patron. k About one shilling and eleven-pence farthing of our money, H3 110 THE LETTERS BOOK II. derate and unusual noise; being a good deal sur- prised, he left off: the clamour ceased, and he began again : he was interrupted a seco,nd time, and a third. At last, he enquired who it was that was speaking ? He was told, Licinius. " Alas r said he, " Eloquence in this court is " no more /" The truth is, it then only began to decline, when, in Afer's opinion, it no longer existed ; whereas now it is almost extinct. I am ashamed to say with what an unmanly tone the orators deliver themselves, and with what a squeaking applause they are received ; nothing seems wanting to complete this sing-song orar toiy, but the claps, or rather the music of the stage. The applause of the audience is express- ed by a kind of howling, (for I can call it by no other term) which would be indecent even in the theatre. Hitherto, the interest of my friends, and the consideration of my early time of life, have retained me in this court; as it would be thought, I fear, rather to proceed from indo- lence, than a just indignation at these indecen- cies, were I yet to leave it : however, I go there less frequently than usual, and am thus making a gradual retreat. Farewel. LETTER, BOOK II. OF PLINY. Ill LETTER XV. To VALERIANUS. .H o w goes on your old estate at Marsi 1 ? and how do you approve of your new purchase ? Has it as many beauties in your eye now, as before you bought it? That would be extraordinary, in- deed ! for an object in possession seldom appears with the same charms it had in pursuit. As for myself, the estate left me by my mother uses me but ill ; however, I value it for her sake, and am, besides, grown callous by long suffering.- Frequent occasions of complaint render one ashamed of complaining any more. LETTER XVI. To ANNIANUS, I ou act agreeably to your usual concern for my interest, when you advise me to consider the codicil b of Aciliantis (who has appointed me one of his co-heirs) as void, because it is not con- firmed a One of the ancient divisions of Italy, comprehending part of what is now called the farther Abruzzo. b A codicil, by the ancient civil law, was a less solemn kind of will ; wherein it was not necessary to observe so strictly the ceremonies prescribed by the law for a will. But no legacy given by a codicil was valid, unless confirmed by the will, which was esteemed its basis. This, however, by later empe-. $ors, was altered. Vid. Just. Inst. T. ?5. 1. 2. R4 112 THE LETTERS firmed by his will. That the law in this case deems it invalid, I well know; and it is a point of jurisprudence to which even those who are igno- rant of every other are usually no strangers. But I have a law of my own, which I shall always religiously observe ; and that is, punctually to perform the will of the dead, though it may want the essential forms. This codicil, beyond all manner of doubt, is of Acilianus's own hand- writing; therefore, though it is not confirmed by his will, I shall be guided by it as strictly as if it were ; especially, as there is no danger that any villainous informer can take advantage of this mistake. If, indeed, there were any hazard, that what I give to the legatees in the codicil, would be seized as forfeited to the use of the public, I should, perhaps, act with more delibe- ration : but as the forfeiture in this case is mere- ly for the benefit of the heir, and he may dispose of what accrues to him as such, in the manner he thinks proper ; nothing hinders, since the law does not, my observing that rule which I have laid down to myself. Farewel. LETTER BOOK II. OF PLINY. 113 LETTER XVII. To GALLUS. You are surprised, it seems, that I am so fond of my Laurentinum a or (if you like the appella- tion better) 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 prospect of the sea-coast It is but seventeen miles distant from Rome; so that, hav- ing finished my affairs in town, I can pass my evenings * Pliny had no estate round this seat, his whole possessions here being included (as he informs us in B. 4. Let. 6.) in this house and gardens. It was merely a winter villa, in which he used to spend some of the cold months, whenever his business ad- mitted of his absence from Rome ; and, for this reason it is, that we find warmth is so much considered in the disposition of the several apartments, &c. And, indeed, he seems to have a prin- cipal view to its advantages as a winter house throughout the whole description of it. See Castel's villas of the ancients. Scamozzi, in his Architect, winters. I. 3. 12. has given apian and elevation of this villa. Mons. Felibien has also annexed a plan to his translation of this letter ; as our own countryman, the ingenious Mr. Castel, has done in his villas of the ancients illustrated. But they differ extremely among themselves as to the disposition of the several parts of this building, and, per- haps, have ratiier pursued the idea of modern architecture, than that which is traced out in their original; at least, if the suppo- sition advanced by one of the commentators upon this epistle be true ; who contends, that the villas of the ancients were not one uniform pile of building contained under the same roof, but that each apartment formed a distinct and separate member from the rest. The ruins of this villa are said to have been dis- covered some time about the year 1714, but whether any plan was ever taken of so valuable a remain of antiquity, or the reality of it ascertained, the translator has not been able to learn. 114 THE LETTERS BOOK II. evenings here, without breaking in upon the bu- siness of the clay. 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 Qs- tia, at the 1 1th. Both of them are, in some parts, sandy, which makes it somewhat heavy and tedi- ous, if you travel in a carriage, but easy and plea- sant to those who ride on horseback. The land- skip, on all sides, is extremely diversified, the prospect, in some places, being confined by woods, in others, extending over large and beautiful meadows, where numberless flocks of sheep and herds 6f cattle, which the severity of the winter has driven from the mountains, fatten in the ver- nal warmth of this rich pasturage. My villa is laro-e enough to afford all desirable accommoda- o o tions, without being extensive. The porch before it is plain, but not mean, through which you en- ter into a portico in the form of the letter D, which includes a small but agreeable area. This O affords a very commodious retreat in bad wea- ther, not only as it is inclosed with windows, but particularly as it is sheltered by an extraordinary projection of the roof. From the middle of this portico you pass into an inward court, extremely pleasant, and from thence into a handsome hall, which runs out towards the sea ; so that when there is a south-west wind, it is gently washed with the waves, which spend themselves at the foot BOOK II. OF PLINY. 115 foot of it. On every side of this hall, there are either fold ing- doors, or windows equally large, by which means you have a view from the front and the two sides, as it were, of three different seas : from the back part, you see the middle court, the portico, and the area ; and, by another view, you look through the portico into the porch, from whence the prospect is terminated by the woods and mountains which are seen at a distance. On the left hand of this hall, somewhat 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 has, likewise, a prospect of the sea, but being at a greater distance, is less incommoded by it. The angle which the projection of the hall forms with this drawing-room, retains and increases the warmth of the sun ; and hither my family retreat in winter to perform their exercises : it is sheltered from all winds, except those which are generally attended with clouds, so that no- thing can render this place useless, but what, at the same time, destroys the fair weather. Conti- guous to this, is a room forming the segment of a circle, the windows of which are so placed, as to receive the sun the whole day : in the walls are contrived a sort of cases, which contain a collection of such authors whose works can ne- ver be read too often. From hence you pass into 116 THE LETTERS BOOK II. into a bed-chamber through a passage, which, being .boarded and suspended, as it were, over a stove which runs underneath, tempers the heat which it receives and conveys to all parts of this room. The remainder of this side of the house is appropriated to the use of my slaves and freed - men ; but most of the apartments, however, are neat enough to receive any of my friends. In the opposite wing is a room ornamented in a very elegant taste ; next to which lies another room, which, though large for a parlour, makes but a moderate dining-room ; it is exceedingly warmed and enlightened, not only by the direct rays of the sun, but by their reflection from the sea. Beyond, is a bed-chamber, together with its ante-chamber, the height of which renders it cool in summer; as its being sheltered on all sides from the winds makes it warm in winter. To this apartment another of the same sort is joined by pne common wall. From thence you enter into the grand and spacious cooling-ruovf, belonging to the bath c , from the opposite walls of which, * " The principal use of this room seems to have been de- " signed to prepare the bodies of those that had been in the " former room, for their going into the warmer air." Castel's villas, p. 33. : *' The custom of bathing in hot water, was become so ha- * f bitual to the Romans, in Pliny's time, that (hey every 11 day practised it before they lay down to eat ; for which rea- '* son, in die city, the public baths were extremely numerous; " in which Vitruvius gives us to understand, there were, for " each BOOK II. OF PLINY. 117 which, two round basons project, sufficiently large to swim in. Contiguous to this is the perfuming-room, then the sweating room, and next to that, the furnace which conveys the heat to the baths : adjoining, are two other little bathing-rooms, fitted up in an elegant rather than costly manner : annexed to this, is a warm bath of extraordinary workmanship, wherein one may swim, and have a prospect, at the same time, of the sea: Not far from hence, stands the each sex, three rooms for battling, one of cold water, one of warm, and one still warmer ; and there were cells of three degrees of heat for sweating: to the fore-mentioned mem- bers, were added others for anointing and bodily exercises. The last thing they did before they entered into the dialing- room was to bathe ; what preceded their washing was their exercise in the spheristerium, prior to which it was their custom to anoint themselves. As for their sweating-rooms, though they were, doubtless, in all their baths, we do not find them to have been used but upon particular occasions." Castel's villas of the ancients, p. 31. The Roman magnificence seems to have particularly dis- played itself in the article of their baths. Seneca, dating ore of his epistles from a villa which once belonged to Scipio Afri- canus, takes occasion, from thence, to draw a parallel between the simplicity of the earlier ages, and the luxury of his own times in that instance. By the idea he gives of the latter, they were works of the highest splendour and expence. The walls were composed of Alexandrine marble, the veins whereof were so artfully managed, as to have the appearance of a regular picture: the edges or' the bascns were set round with a most valuable kind of stone, found in Thasius, one of the Greek islands, variegated with veins of different colours, interspersed with streaks of gold ; the water was conveyed through silver pipes, and fell, by se'veral descents, in beautiful cascades. The floors were inlaid with precious gems, and an intermixture of statues and colonades contributed to throw an air nf elegance and grandeur upon the whole. Vide Sen. Ep. 86', I H8 THE LETTERS BOOK II. the tennis court, which lies open to the warmth of the afternoon sun. From thence you ascend a sort, of turret, containing two entire apart- inents below ; as there are the same number above, besides a dining-room which commands a very extensive prospect of the sea, together with the beautiful villas that stand interspersed upon the coast. At the other end, is a second turret, in which is a room that receives the ris- ing and setting sun. Behind this is a large re- pository, near to which is a gallery of curiosi- ties, and underneath a spacious dining-room, where the roaring of the sea, even in a storm, is heard but faintly : it looks upon the garden and the gestatio*, which surrounds the garden. The gestatio is encompassed with a box-tree hedge, and where that is decayed, with rosemary : for the box, in those parts which are sheltered by the buildings, preserves its verdure perfectly well ; but where, by an open situation, it lies exposed to the spray of the sea, though at a great distance, it entirely withers. Between the garden and this gestatio runs a shady plantation of vines,, the alley of which is so soft, that you may walk bare foot upon it without any injury. The garden is chiefly planted with fig and mul- berry trees, to which this soil is as favourable, as it is averse from all others. In this place is a banqueting- d See p. 12. note c . BOOK, II. OF PLINY. 119 banqueting-room, which, though it stands re- mote from the sea, enjoys a prospect nothing in- ferior to that view : two apartments run round the back part of it, the windows whereof look upon the entrance of the villa, and into a very pleasant kitchen-garden. From hence an en- closed portico 6 extends, which, by its great length, you might suppose erected for the use of the public. It has a range of windows on each side, but on that which looks towards the sea, they are double the number of those next the garden. When the weather is fair and serene, these are all thrown open ; but if it blows, those on -the side the wind sets are shut, while the others remain unclosed without any inconve- nience. Before this portico lies a terrace, per- fumed with violets, and warmed by the reflection of the sun from the portico, which, as it retains the rays, so it keeps off the north-east wind ; and it is as warm on this side as it is cool on the opposite : in the same manner it proves a defence against the south-west ; and thus, in short, by means of its several sides, breaks the force of the winds from what point soever they blow. These are some of its winter advantages : they are still more considerable in summer ; for at that season it * " These enclosed porticos differed no otherwise from our " present galleries, than that they had pillars in them : the ut* " of thi* room was for walking." Castell's villas, p. 44. 120 THE LETTERS BOOK II. it throws a shade upon the terrace during all the forenoon, as it defends the gestatio, and that part of the garden which lies contiguous to it, from the afternoon sun, and casts a greater or less shade, as the day either increases or decreases ; but the portico itself is then coolest, when the sun is most scorching, that is, when its rays fall directly upon the roof. To these its benefits I must not forget to add, that, by setting open the windows, the western breezes have a free draught, and, by that means, the enclosed air is prevented from stagnating. On the upper end of the ter- race and portico stands a detached building in the garden, which I call my favourite ; and in- deed it is particularly so, having erected it my- self. It contains a very warm winter-room, one side of which looks upon the terrace, the other has a view of the sea, and both lie -exposed to the sun. Through the folding doors you see the opposite chamber, and from the window is a prospect of the enclosed portico. On that side next the sea, and opposite to the middle wall, stands a little elegant recess, which, by means of glass doors and a curtain, is either laid into the adjoining room, or separated from it. It con- tains a couch and two chairs. As you lie upon this couch, from the feet you have a prospect of the sea ; if you look behind, you see the neigh- bouring villas ; and from the head you have a view BOOK II. OF PLINY, 121 view of the woods: these three views may be seen either distinctly* from so many different windows in the room, or blended together in one confused prospect. Adjoining to this is a bed- chamber, which neither the voice of the servants, the murmuring of the sea, nor even the roaring of a tempest, can reach ; not lightning nor the day itself can penetrate it, unless you open the windows. This profound tranquillity is occa- sioned by a passage, which separates the wall of this chamber from that of the garden ; and thus, by means of that intervening space, every noise is precluded. Annexed to this is a small stove-* room, which, by opening a little window, warms the bed-chamber to the degree of heat required. Beyond this lies a chamber and ante- chamber, which enjoys the sun, though obliquely indeed, from the time it rises, till the afternoon. When I retire to this garden -apartment, I fancy myself a hundred miles from my own house, and take particular pleasure in it at the feast of the Satur- nalia^ when, by the licence of that season of fes- tivity, e " It must have been from the middle of the room that he " could see all these prospects separate and distinct, which, " upon a nearer approach to any particular window, must hav " appeared intermingled." Castel's Villas, p. 38. f 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 grea,t liberties with their masters. VOL, I, I 122 Tut LETTERS BOOK It tivity, every other part of my villa resounds with the mirth of my domestics : thus I neither interrupt their diversions, nor they my studies. Among the pleasures and conveniences of this situation, there is one disadvantage, and that is, the want of a running stream ; but this defect is, in a great measure, supplied by wells, or rather I should call them fountains, for they rise very near the surface. And, indeed, the quality of this coast is remarkable ; for in what part soever you dig, you meet, upon the first turning up of the ground, with a spring of pure water, not in the least 'salt, though so near the sea. The neighbouring forests afford an abundant supply of fuel ; as every other accommodation of life may be had from Ostia : to a moderate man, in^ deed, even the next village (between which and my house there is only one villa) would furnish all common necessaries. In that little place there are no less than three public baths; which is a great conveniency, if it happen that my friends come in unexpectedly, or make too short a stay to allow time for preparing my own. The whole coast is beautifully diver- sified by the contiguous 6r ! detached vilks that are spread upon it, which, whether you view them from the sea or the shore, have the appearance of so many different cities. The strand is sometimes, after a long calm, perfectly smooth BOOK II. OF PLINY. 123 smooth, though, in general, by the storms driving the waves upon it, it is rough and uneven. I can- not boast that our sea produces any very extra- ordinary fish ; however, it supplies us with ex- ceeding fine soals and prawns ; but as to provi- sions of other kinds, my villa pretends to excel even inland countries, particularly in milk ; for hither the cajtle come from the meadows in great numbers, in pursuit of shade and water. Tell me now, have I not just cause to bestow my time and my affection upon this delightful re- treat ? Surely you are too fondly attached to the pleasures of the town, if you do not feel an incli- nation to take a view of this my favourite villa 5 . I much wish, at least, you were so disposed, that to the many charms with which it abounds, it might have the very considerable addition of your company to recommend it. Farewel. LETTER 5 Mr. Castel observes, that though Pliny here calls his house Villula ; it t appcars that, after haiing described but part of it, yet, if every Diieta or entire apartment may be supposed to contain three rooms, he has taken notice of no less than forty-six, besides all which there remains near half the house undescribed, which was, as he says, allotted to the use oj the servants ; and it is very pro- bable this part was made uniform with that he has already de- scribed. But it must be remembered, that diminutives in Latin do not always imply smallness of size, but are frequently used as words ot endearment and approbation; and in this sense it seems most probable that Pliny here uses the word Villula^ \ 2 124 THE LETTERS BOOK II. LETTER XVIII. To MAURICUS. \VHAT can be more agreeable to me than the of- fice you have enjoined me, of choosing a proper tutor for your nephews ? It gives me an opportu- nity of revisiting the scene of my education, and of turning back again to the most pleasing part of my life. I resume my seat, as formerly, among the young scholars ; and have the pleasure to ob- serve the respect they pay me from the reputation I have acquired by the same studies. Accord- ingly, when I lately came in upon them, while they were warmly declaiming before a very full audience of the same rank with myself; the mo- ment I appeared they were silent. I mention this' for their honour rather than my own ; and to let you see the just hopes you may conceive of plac- ing your nephews to their advantage in this se- minary. I purpose to hear all the several profes- sors ; and then to write you such an account of them as will enable you (as far as a letter can) to judge of their respective abilities. The faithful execution of this important commission, is what I owe to the friendship that subsists between us, and to the memory of your brother. Nothing, certainly, is more your concern, than that his children (I would have said yours, but that I know you now look upon them even with more tenderness BOOK II. OF PLINY. 125 tenderness than your own) may be found worthy of such a father, and such an uncle: and I should have claimed a part in that care, though you had not required it of me. I am sensible, in thus se- lecting a preceptor, I shall draw upon me the dis- pleasure of all the rest of that profession : but when the interest of these youths is concerned, I esteem it my duty to hazard the displeasure, or even enmity, of any man, with as much unconcern as a parent would for his own children. Farewel. LETTER XIX. To CEREALIS. You advise me to read my late speech before an assembly of my friends. I will, since it is agree- able to your opinion ; though I have many scru- ples. Compositions of this kind lose, I well know, all their fire and force, and almost even their very name, by a mere recital. It is the solemnity of the tribunal, the concourse of one's friends, the suspense of the event, the emulation between the several orators concerned, the zeal of the dif- ferent parties formed amongst the audience, in a word, it is the air, the action a , the attitude of the speaker, together with all the corresponding gestures * Some of the Roman orators were as much too vehement in their action, as those of our country are too calm and spiritles-. In the violence of their elocution they not only used all the I 3 warmth 126 THE LETTERS BOOK II. gestures of his body, that conspire to give a spi- rit and grace to what he delivers. Hence those who sit when they plead, though they have most of the other advantages I just now mentioned, yet, from that single circumstance, weaken the whole force of their eloquence. The eyes and hands of a reader, those important instruments of graceful elocution, being engaged, it is no wonder the attention of the hearer grows lan- guid, while he has none of those awakening and alluring circumstances to excite it. To these ge- neral considerations, I must add this particular disadvantage, which attends the speech in ques- tion, that it is chiefly of the argumentative kind ; and it is natural for an author to suspect that what he wrote with labour will not be read with pleasure. For who is there so unprejudiced, as not to prefer the flowing and florid to the close and unornamented style? It is very unreasonable there should be any distinction, however it is certain the judges generally expect one manner of pleading, and the audience another ; whereas an auditor ought to be affected only with those articles warmth of gesture,'but actually walked backwards and forwards. Tully and Quinctilian have laid down rules how far, and in what instance, this liberty was allowable, and both agree it ought to be used with great caution and judgment. The latter of those excellent critics mentions upon this occasion a witticism of Fla- vius Virginius, who asked one of these walking orators, Quot rnillia passuum declamasset ? " How many miles he had de- " claimed ?" Quinct. Jnst. ed. Oxon. p. 58? ' BOOK II. OF PLINY. 127 articles which would 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 me- thod of reasoning, though upon a different oc- casion, not altogether unlike that which I em- ployed* They, when they would throw out a law, as contrary to some former one unrepealed, argue by comparing those laws together; so !> on the contrary, endeavour to prove, that the crime b , 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 juris- prudence of their country, can have no taste for reasonings of this kind ; but those who are not, ought to be so much the more favourable in the o judgment they pass upon them. I shall endea- vour, therefore, if you persist in my reciting it, to collect a learned audience. But before you determine this point, I entreat you thoroughly to weigh the difficulties I have laid before you, and then b Some of the commentators are of opinion, (and it is not im- probable,) that the speech mentioned in this letter, is the same which Pliny delivered in the senate against M. Priscus. See teller xi. of this book. I 4 128 THE LETTERS BOOK II. then decide as reason shall direct: for it is reason that must justify you ; obedience to your com* mands will be a sufficient apology for me. Fare- wel. LETTER XX. To CALVISIUS. (TIVE me a penny, and I will tell you a story " worth gold 1 ;" or rather, you shall hear two or three; for one brings to my mind another. 'Tis no matter which I begin with, so take them as follows. Verania, the widow of Piso, who was adopted by Galba, lay extremely ill : upon this occasion Regulus made her a visit. By the way, mark the assurance of the man, to visit a lady to whom he was so extremely odious, and to whose husband he was a declared enemy ! Even barely to enter her house would have been impudent enough ; but he had the confidence to go much farther, and very familiarly placed himself by her bed-side. He began very gravely with enquiring what day and hour she was born ? Being in- formed of these important particulars, he com- poses his countenance, fixes his eyes, mutters something to himself, counts his fingers, and all this a Alluding to the phrase of certain Charlatans, who gained their livelihood by gathering a circle round them in the public Vlaces of Rome, and amusing the gaping multitude by popular traditionary tales, or wonderful stones of their own invention. BOOK IL OF PLINY. 129 this merely to keep the poor sick lady in suspense. When he had finished this ridiculous mummery, " You are" says he, " in one of your climacterics ; " however you will get over it. But for your " greater satisfaction, I zdll consult a certain " diviner, whose skill I have frequently evpe~ 11 rienced" Accordingly, away 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 credu- lous good woman calls for her will, and gives Re- gulus a handsome legacy. Some time afterwards her distemper increased; and in her last moments she exclaimed against this infamous wretch who had thus basely deceived her, though he wished every curse might befal his son b , if what he pro- mised her were not true. But such sort of im- precations are as common with Regulus as they are impious; and he continually devotes that un- happy youth to the curses of those gods, whose vengeance his own frauds every day provoke. Vellcius Blaesus, a person of consular dignity, and remarkable for his immense wealth, had an inclination, b It was customary among the ancients to swear by what they held most dear. To this custom (as a late critic justly observes) Martial alludt-s; Ecce negasjurasque miht per tcinpla tonantis ; Non credo : jura, vcrpe, per Anchialum. Swear tho' thou dost by Jove, thou wilt deceive; Swear by Anchialus; I'll then believe. That is, swegr by your pathic, your boy Anchialus. 130 THE LETTERS BOOK II. inclination, in his last sickness, to make some alterations in his will. Regulus, who had lately endeavoured to insinuate himself into his friend- ship, hoped to receive some advantage by the in- tended change ; and accordingly applied himself to the patient's physicians, and conjured them to exert all their skill to prolong the poor man's life. But the moment the will was signed, his style was changed : " How long," says he to these very phy- sicians, " do you design to keep this man in mi- 11 stry ? Since you cannot preserve his life, why " will you prolong his death?" Blassus is since dead ; and, as if he had overheard every word that Regulus had said, he has not left him one farthing. And now have you had enough ? or, like a truant school-boy, are you for listening still to another tale ? If so, Regulus will supply you. You must know then, that Aurelia, a lady of distinguished accomplishments, design- ing to execute her will b , had dressed herself, for that purpose, in a most splendid manner. Regulus, who was present as a witness, turned to the lady, and, " Pray" says he, " leave me " these Jine cloaths" Aurelia, at first, thought him b This was an act of great ceremony ; and if Aurelia'i habit was of the kind which some of the Roman ladies used, the legacy must have been considerable which Regulus had the impudence to ask. " The vestes Byssiius (as the inge- 14 nious Dr. Arbuthnot observes) which we are told some of the " ladies ware, must have been of such an extravagant price, " that BOOK II. OF PLINY. him in jest : but he insisted upon it very seri- ously, and compelled her to open her will, and insert this legacy ; and though he saw her write it, yet he would not be satisfied till he read the clause himself. However, Aurelia is still alive : though Regulus, no doubt, when he solicited this bequest, expected soon to enjoy it. Thus are legacies and estates conferred upon this aban- doned man, as if he really deserved them ! But why should I wonder at this in a city where im- pudence and iniquity receive the same, do I say, even greater encouragement than modesty and virtue ? Regulus is a glaring instance of this truth, who, from a state of indigence, has, by a train of the most villainous actions, acquired such immense riches, that he once told me, upon consulting the omens to know how soon he should " that there is no stuff in our age comes up to it. The very *' materials of which would be worth 49l. 12s. the pound avoir- " dupois weight, and consequently a garment weighing 20 pounds " would cost 9921. exclusive of the manufacture." Arb. of an- cient coins, &c. p. 146. Now I am upon this head, I cannot forbear mentioning the prodigious extravagance of these ladies in the article of jewels. Pliny the elderf says, he saw Lollia Paulina with an equipage of this kind, amounting (according to the above-cited author's calculation) to 322,9l6'l. 13s. 4d. of our money. In one instance of expence, however, the modern ladies seem to exceed the ancient, and though there appears an infinite variety of head-dresses upon busts, statues, and medals, yet it is learnedly debated, among the antiquaries, whether the Roman ladies were so costly in that point as the English. For the credit of the Tetc, I beg leave to add, that it is of a very an- cient original, and is known to have made its appearance among -'jnuls ajid, dictators. t Lib< 9. 35. 13* THE LETTERS, &c. BOOK II. should be worth sixty millions of sesterces , he found them so favourable as to portend he should possess double that sum. And possibly he may, if he continue thus to dictate wills for other people : a sort of fraud, in my estimation, of all others the most infamous. Farewel. THE e About 430,0001. of our money. THE Tnp QF PLINY. BOOK. III. . ' -. . .--? LETTER I. To CALVISIUS. I NEVER, spent my time more agreeably, I think, than lately with Spurinna. I am so much pleas- ed with the uninterrupted regularity of his way of life, that if ever I should arrive at old age, there is no man whom I would sooner choose for my model. 1 look upon an orderly arrangement of the affairs of life, especially at that advanced period, with the same sort of pleasure as I behold the settled course of the heavenly bodies. In youth, indeed, there is a certain deviation from precise rule, by no means unbecoming ; but in 134 THE LETTERS BOOK III. age, when business is unseasonable, and ambition indecent, all should be composed and uniform. This maxim Spuriana religiously pursues through- out his 'whole conduct. Even in those transac- tions which one might call minute and inconsi- derable, did they not occur every day, he ob- serves a certain periodical season and method. The first part of the morning he devotes to stu- dy ; at eight he dresses, and walks about three miles, in which he enjoys, at once, contempla- tion and exercise. At his return, if he has any friends with him in his house, he enters upon some entertaining and interesting topic of con- versation ; if he is alone, some book is read to him ; and sometimes, too, even when he has visi- tors, if agreeable to the company. He then re- poses himself; and, after this, either takes up a Look, or falls into some discourse, even more en-* teftaining and instructive. He afterwards takes the air in his chariot either with his wife (who is a lady of uncommon merit) or with some friend : a happiness which lately was mine. How agreeable, how delightful is the enjoyment of him in that hour of privacy ! You would fan- cy you were heaving some worthy of ancient time's, inflaming your breast with the most he- roic examples, and instructing your mind with the most exalted precepts, which, yet, he delivers" with so modest an air, that it has not the least j appearance BOOK. III. OF PLINY. 135 appearance of dictating. When he has thus taken a tour of about seven miles, he gets out of his chariot and walks a mile more, after which, he returns home, and either reposes himself, or re- tires to his study. He has an excellent taste for poetry, and composes lyric odes, both in Greek and Latin, with great elegance. It is surprising what a sweet flow of numbers, and what a spirit of gaiety runs through his verses, which the ve- nerable character of the author renders still more pleasing. 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, he walks for some time in the sun a . After this, he plays a considerable time at 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 till supper time u , and, in the mean while, some agree- able and entertaining author is read to him. In this, as in all the rest, his friends are at full li- berty to partake, or to employ themselves in any other manner more suitable to their inclination. You *. See Book 6. Let. 16. note b . b This was the principal nieal among the Romans, at which all their feasts and invitations were made ; they usually began it about their 9th hour, answering pretty nearly to our 3 o'clock in the afternoon. But as Spurinna, we find, did not enter upon, the exercises which always preceded this meal till the 8th or 9th hour, if we allow about 3 hours for that purpose, be could not lie down to table, till toward 6 or 7 o'clock. See Let. 5, of this Book, in note, p. 145. 136 THE LETTERS BOOK III. You lie down to an elegant, yet frugal repast, which is served up in antique plate of pure silver. He has, likewise, a complete service in Corinthi- an metal e , which, though he admires as a curio- sity, is far from being his passion. At his table, he is frequently entertained with the recital of some dramatic piece, so that, even his very meals are a feast to the understanding ; and though he continues at supper, even in summer, till the night is somewhat advanced, yet he prolongs the repast with so much affability and politeness, that none of his guests ever think it tedious. By this method of living, he has preserved all his senses entire, and his body active and vigorous to his 78th year, without discovering any symp- toms of old age, but the wisdom. This is the sort of life which I ardently aspire after ; and I purpose to enjoy it, when I shall arrive at those years which will justify a retreat from active oc- cupations. In the mean while, I am embarrassed with a thousand affairs, in which Spurinna is, at once, my support and my example : for he, like- wise, as long as it became him, entered into all the duties of public life. It was by passing through the various offices of the state, by go- verning e This metal, whatever it was composed of, (for that point is by no means clear) was so highly esteemed among the ancients, that they preferred it even to gold : Mraquc ab Isthmiads auro potiorafafitlis. Stat. Sylv. 2, f- Corinthian brass more precious far than gold. BOOK III. OF PLINY. 137 verning provinces, and, by indefatigable labours, that he merited the repose he now enjoys. I propose to myself the same course 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 let- ter against me ; and condemn me* to repose, whenever I may enjoy it without being reproach- ed with indolence. Farewel. LETTER II. To MAXIMUS. I THINK I may claim a right to ask the same services of you for my friends, as I would offer to yours if I had the same opportunity. Arria- nus Maturius is a person of great eminence among the Altinates*. When I say this, it is not with respect to his fortunes; (which, however, are very considerable;) it is in allusion to the purity, the integrity, the prudence, and the sanc- tity of his manners. His counsel guides me in my affairs, and his judgment in my studies ; for truth, honour, and knowledge, are the distin- guishing qualities which mark his character. He loves me (and I cannot express his affection in stronger terms) with a tenderness equal to yours. As he is a stranger to the passion of ambition, he Altino, in the Venetian territories, nw destroyed. Voj.. I. K 135 THE LETTERS BOOK III. lie is contented with remaining in the equestrian order, when he might easily have advanced him- self into a higher rank. It behoves me, however, to endeavour that his merit be rewarded as it de- serves; and I would fain, without his knowledge or expectation, and probably too contrary to his inclination, contribute to his honours. The post I wish to obtain for him is some station of great dignity, and yet attended with no trouble. I t>eg, when any thing of that nature offers, you would think of him : it will be an obligation, which both he and I shall ever remember with the greatest gratitude. For though he has no aspiring views to gratify, he will be as sensible of the favour, as if he had received it in consequence of his own desires. Farewel. LETTER III. To IIlSPULIA. IT is not easy to determine whether my love or esteem were greater, for that wise and excellent man your father ; but this is most certain, that, from the respect I bear to his merqory and your virtues, you are dear to me by the strongest sen- timents of affection. Can I fail then to wish (as I shall by every means in my power endeavour, that your son may copy the virtues of both his grandfathers, particularly his maternal ? as, in- deed, his father and his uncle will furnish him also BOOK III. OF PLINY. 139 also with very illustrious examples. The surest method to train him up in the steps of these re- spectable men, is early to season his mind with polite learning and useful knoM'ledge : and it is of the last consequence from whom he receives these instructions. Hitherto he has had his education under your eye, and in your house, where he is exposed to few, I should rather say to no wrong impressions. But he is now of an age to be sent from home, and it is time to place him with some professor of rhetoric ; of whose discipline and me- thod, but, above all, of whose morals, you may be well satisfied. Amongst the many advantages for which this amiable youth is indebted to nature and fortune, he has that of a most beautiful per- son : it is necessary, therefore, in this loose and slippery age, to find out one who will not only be his tutor, but the guardian and protector of his virtue. I will venture to recommend Julius Ge- nitor to you under that character. I love him, I confess, extremely : but my affection does by no means prejudice my judgment; on the contrary it is, in truth, the effect of it. His behaviour is grave, and his morals irreproachable; perhaps, somewhat too severe and rigid for the libertine manners of these times. His professional qualifications you may learn from many others; for, the powers of eloquence, as they are open to all the world, are soon discovered ; but the qualities of the heart lie more concealed, and out of the reach of com- K 2 mon 140 THE LETTERS BOOK III. mon observation : it is on that side, therefore, I undertake to be answerable for my friend. Your son will hear nothing from this worthy man, but what will be for his advantage to know, nor learn any thing of which it would be happier he should be ignorant. He will represent to him, as often and with as much zeal as you or I should, the virtues of his ancestors, and what a glorious weight of illustrious characters he has to sup- port. You will not hesitate, then, to place him with a tutor, whose first care will be to form his manners, and afterwards to instruct him in elo- quence; an attainment ill-acquired, if with the neglect of moral improvements. Farewel. LETTER IV. To MACRINUS. 1 HOUGH my friends here, as well as the town in general, seem to approve of my conduct jn the affair I am going to mention, yet I cannot, satisfy myself without knowing your sentiments; and, as I wished for your advice before I engaged in it, so I am extremely desirous of your judg- ment now it is finished. Having obtained leave to be absent from my office as head of the trea- sury, I went into Tuscany to look after some works which I am carrying on there for the be- nefit of that province, at my own expence. In the BOOK III. OF PLINY. 141 the interval, deputies on the part of the Baetici arrived with complaints of some grievances they had suffered under the government of Cecilius Classicus; and applied to the senate that I might be appointed counsel for them. My very worthy and obliging colleagues represented, on my be- half, the necessary engagements of our office, and endeavoured to get me excused. Upon this, the senate passed a decree greatly to my honour : they ordered that I should be counsel for the pro- vince, provided the deputies could obtain my consent. At my return, they were again intro- duced into the senate, and there renewed their petition in my presence. They conjured me by that generous assistance I had given them in their cause against Baebius, and by all the obligations I lay under of supporting my avowed clients, that I would not now desert them. I perceived the senate was inclined to grant this petition, by that general assent which is the usual forerunner of all their decrees. Whereupon I rose, and told the house, that I no longer insisted upon the reason- ableness of the excuse I had alledged : and they seemed pleased with the respectful modesty of my answer. I was determined in this resolution, not only because I found it agreeable to the in- clinations of the senate (which, indeed, had great weight with me), but for many other, though less important considerations. I reflected, that our ancestors thought themselves obliged to cu- lt 3 gage 143 THE LETTERS BOOK III. gage voluntarily in defence of those particular persons, with whom they were united by the laws of hospitality*, and that, therefore, it would be highly ungenerous to abandon a collective body, to whom I stood in the same relation. Be- sides, I considered the danger as well as the fa- tigue I went through in the last cause I under- took for this province ; and I was unwilling to lose the merit of my former services, by denying their request in the present instance. For such is the disposition of mankind, that the favour you refuse, cancels all you have conferred ; and though you oblige them ever so often, they will forget a thousand compliances, and yet remember a single denial. I considered, likewise, that Classicus be- ing dead, the great objection of exposing a se- nator was removed ; and that, in undertaking this cause, I should merit the same thanks from my clients as if he were alive, without the hazard of giving offence to any particular person. In a word, * The observation of Eustathjus upon the interview of Glau- cus and Diomed in the 6th Iliad, as translated by Mr. Pope, in his iii.tes upon that place, .will throw a light upon this pas- sage, which may be oi service to the English reader. " The laws of hospitality, (says he) were anciently held in great veneration. The friendship contracted thereby was so sa- cred, that they preferred it to all the bonds of consanguinity and alliance, and accounted it obligatory to the 3d and 4th generation. We see Diomed and Glaucus agreeing not to be enemies during the whole course of a war, only be- cause their grandfathers had been mutual guests. They pre- served in iheir families the presents which had been mad on these occasions; as obliged to transmit to their children the memorials of their right of hospitality." BOOK III. OF PLINY. 143 word, I thought, if I complied with their desires on this occasion, I could, with a better grace, deny my assistance to them in any future, where I might have reasons for declining to be their advocate. For all our offices have their limits ; and the best way of reserving to ourselves the liberty of refusing where we would, is to comply where we can. Thus you have heard the motives which influenced me in this transaction : it now remains that you give me your opinion, which I shall receive with equal satisfaction, either as an instance of your since- rity, or a sanction to my conduct. Farewel. LETTER V. To MACER. 1 HAVE the pleasure to find you are so great an admirer of my uncle's works, as to wish to have a complete collection of them; and for that pur- pose desire me to send you an account of all the treatises he wrote. I will point them out to you in the order in which they were composed : for however immaterial that may seem, it is a sort of information not at all unacceptable to men of let- ters. The first book he published was a treatise concerning the art of using the Javelin on horse~ back : this he wrote when he commanded a troop of horse : and it is drawn up with great accuracy and judgment. The life of Pomponius Secundus, in fii'o volumes : Pomponius had a very great af- K 4 fectiofl> 44 THE LETTERS BOOK III. fection for him, and he thought he owed this tri- bute to his memory. The history of the wars in Germany, consisting of twenty books, in which he gave an account of all the battles we were en- gaged in against that nation. A dream which he had, when he served in the army in Germany, first suggested to him the design of this work. He imagined that Drusus Nero (who extended his conquests very far into that country, and there lost his life) appeared to him in his sleep, and con- jured him not to suffer his memory T.O be buried in oblivion. He has left us likewise a treatise upon eloquence, divided into six volumes. In this work he takes the orator from his cradle, and leads him on till he has carried him up to the highest point of perfection in this art In the latter part of Nero's reign, when the tyranny of the times made it dangerous to engage in studies of a more free and elevated spirit, he published a piece of criticism in eight books, concerning ambiguity in expression. He has completed the history which Aufidius Bassus left unfinished, and has added to it thirty books. And, lastly, he has left thirty- seven books upon the subject of natural history : this is a work of great compass and learning, and almost as full of variety as nature herself. You will wonder how a man, so engaged as he was, could find time to compose such a number of books ; and some of them too upon abstruse subjects. But your surprise will rise still higher, when you hear, that BOOK III. OF PLINY. 145 that, for some time, he engaged in the profession of an advocate ; that he died in his fifty-sixth year ; that, from the time of his quitting the bar to his death, he was employed partly in the exe- cution of the highest posts, and partly in a per- sonal attendance on those emperors who honoured him with their friendship. But he had a quick ap- prehension, joined to unwearied application. In summer, he always began his studies as soon as it was night 1 ; in winter, generally at one in the morning, but never later than two, and often at midnight. No man ever spent less time in bed ; insomuch that he would sometimes, without re- tiring from his book, take a short sleep, and then pursue his studies. Before day-break, he used to wait upon Vespasian, who likewise chose that season to transact business. When he had finished the affairs which that emperor committed to his charge, he returned home again to his studies. Af- ter a short and light repast, at noon (agreeably to the * The distribution of {ime, among the Romans, was extremely 'different from the method in use amongst us. They measured the night into four equal parts, which they called -watches, each con- taining the space of three hours ; 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 sun-rise, and the last ending with sun-set; by which means their hours were of unequal length, varying according to the different sea- sons of the year. The time for business began with sun-rise, 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 whieb ihey constantly bathed., and from thence went to supper. US THE LETTERS BOOK III. the good old custom of our ancestors,) he would frequently, in the summer, if disengaged from bu- siness, repose himself in the sun; during which time some author was read to him, from whence he made extracts and observations; as indeed this was his constant method whatever book he read : for it was a maxim of his, that " no book was so " ,bad, but something might be learned from it." When this was over, he generally went into the cold bath, and as soon as he came out of it, just took a slight refreshment, and then reposed him- self for a little while. Thus,, as if it had been a new day, he immediately resumed his studies till supper-time, when a book was again read to him, upon which he would make some hasty remarks. I remember once his Reader having pronounced a word wrong, somebody at the table made him repeat it again ; upon which my uncle asked his friend if he understood it? Who acknowledging that he did; " Why then" said "he, "would you make him go back again? " We have lost, by this interruption, above " ten lines :" so covetous was this great man of time ! In summer, he always rose from sup- per by day-light ; and in winter, as soon as 'it was dark : and he observed this rule as strictly as if it had been a law of the state. Such was his manner of life amidst the noise and hurry of the town : but in the country his whole time was* BOOK III. OF PLINY. 147 was devoted to study without intermission, ex- cepting only when he bathed: In this excep- tion, I include no more than the time he was ac- tually in the bath : for. while he was rubbed and tl wiped, he was employed either in hearing some book read to him, or in dictating. In his jour- nies he lost no time from his studies, but his mind, at those seasons, being disengaged from all other business, applied itself wholly to that single pur- suit. A secretary 6 constantly attended him in his chariot, 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 remember he once reproved me for walking : " You might," said he, " employ those hours to " more advantage :*' for he thought every hour lost, that was not given to study. By this extra- ordinary application, f he found time to compose the several treatises I have mentioned, besides one hundred and sixty volumes which he left me by his will, consisting of a kind of common-place, written , b The word, in the original, implies a person who wrote short hand ; an art which the Romans carried to its highest perfec- tion, as appears from the following epigram : Currant verba licet, manus cst velocius Ulis ; Nondum lingua suum, de&tra percgit opus. Mart. 14. 208. Swift tho' the words, (the pen still swifter sped) The hand has finish'd, ere the tongue has said. 148 THE LETTERS BOOK III. written on both sides, in a very small character; so that one might fairly reckon the number con- siderably more. I have heard him say, that when he was comptroller of the revenue in Spain, Lar- gius Licinius offered him four hundred thousand sesterces for these manuscripts : and yet, they were not then quite so numerous. When you re- flect upon the books he has read, and the volumes he has written, are you not inclined to suspect that he never was engaged in the affairs of the public, or the service of his prince? On the other hand, when you are informed how indefatigable he was in his studies, are you not disposed to wonder that he read and wrote no more ? 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 perform ? I cannot but smile, therefore, when I hear myself called a studious man, who, in com- parison to him, am an arrant loiterer. But why do I mention myself, who am diverted from these pursuits, by numberless affairs, both public and private ? Even they, whose whole lives are devot- ed to study, must blush to appear as mere idlers, when compared with him. I have run out mv letter, I perceive, beyond the extent I at first de- signed, which was only to inform you, as you de- sired, what treatises he has left behind him. But I trust e - About 3,2001. of our money. BOOK III. OF PLINY. 149 I trust this will not be less acceptable to you than the -books themselves, as it may, possibly, not only raise your curiosity to read his works, but your emulation to copy his example, by some attempts of the same nature. Farewel. LETTER VI. To SEVER us. I HAVE lately purchased, with a legacy that was left me, a statue of Corinthian brass. It is small, indeed, but well executed, at least, if I have any judgment; which, most certainly, in matters of this sort, as, perhaps, in all others, is extremely defective. However, I think I have a taste to discover the beauties of this figure : as it is nak- ed, the faults, if there be any, as well as the per- fections, are more observable. It represents an old man in an erect attitude. The bones, the muscles, the veins, and wrinkles, are so strongly expressed, that you would imagine the figure to be animated. The character is well preserved throughout every part of the body : the hair is thin, the forehead broad, the face shriveled, the throat lank, the arms languid, the breast fallen, and the belly sunk ; as the whole turn and air of the figure behind is expressive of old age. It ap- pears to be antique, from the colour of the brass. In short, it is a performance so highly finished, as l to 150 THE LETTERS BOOK III. to merit the attention of the most curious, and to afford, at the same time, pleasure to the most common observer: and this induced me, who am an absolute novice in this art, to buy it. But I did so, not with any intent of placing it in my own house, (for I have nothing of that kind there) but with a design of fixing it in some con- spicuous place in my native province, perhaps in the temple of Jupiter: for it is a present well worthy of a temple and a god. I desire, there- fore, you would, with that care with which you always execute my requests, give immediate or- ders for a pedestal to be made for it. I leave the choice of the marble to you, but let my name be engraven upon it, and, if you think proper, my titles. I will send the statue by the first oppor- tunity ; or, possibly, (which I am sure you will like better) I may bring it myself: for I intend*, if I can find leisure, to make an excursion to you. This is a piece of news which I know you will rejoice to hear ; but 'you will soon change your countenance, when I tell you my visit will be only for a few days : for the same business that now detains me here, will prevent my making a longer stay. Farewel. LgTTER BOOK III. OF PLINY. LH LETTER VII. To CAN ix us. I AM just now informed, that Silius Italicus has starved himself to death, at his villa near Naples. Having; been afflicted with a caneerous humour, C5 which was deemed incurable, he grew weary of life, under such painful circumstances, and, there- fore, put an end to it, with the most determined courage. He had been extremely fortunate through the whole course of his days, excepting only the death of his youngest son ; however, that loss was made up to him, in the satisfaction of seeing his eldest, who is of a more amiable cha- racter, attain the consular dignity, and of leav- ing him in a very flourishing situation. He suf- fered in his character during the time of Nero, having been suspected of being willingly con- cerned in some of the informations which were carried on in the reign of that prince ; but he made use of his interest with Vitellius, with great discretion and humanity. He acquired much honour by his administration of the government of Asia ; and by his approved conduct, after his retirement from public business, cleared his cha- racter from that stain which his former intrigues had thrown upon it. He lived as a private no- bleman, without power, and, consequently, with- out envy. Though he was frequently confined to 152 THE LETTERS BOOK III. to his bed, and always to his chamber, yet he was highly respected, and much visited; not with an interested view, but merely on account of his merit. He employed his time, between conversr ing with men of letters, and composing verses ; which he sometimes recited, in order to try the opinion of the public : but he discovered in them more industry than genius. In the decline of his years, he entirely quitted Rome, and lived alto- gether in Campania, from whence even the ac- cession of the new emperor* could not draw him : a circumstance which I mention as well to the honour of the prince, who was not displeased with his taking 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 immode- rate expence. He had several villas in the same province, and the last purchase was always the chief favourite, to the neglect of all the rest. They were furnished with large collections of books, statues, and pictures, which he more than enjoy- ed, he even adored ; particularly the statue of Virgil, of whom he was so passionate an admirer, that he celebrated the anniversary of that poet's birth-day with more solemnity than his own; es- pecially at Naples, where he used to approach his tomb b with as much veneration as if it had been a temple. Trajan. b Travellers are still shewn a monument near Naples, which is called Virgil's tomb. But Mr. Addison " thinks it is almost " certain, BOOK III. OF PLINY, 153 a temple. In this state of tranquillity lie lived to the seventy -fifth year of his age, with a deli- cate, rather than an infirm constitution. As he was the last person upon whom Nero conferred the consular office (that prince heing killed dur- ing his consulship) so he was the last also that survived of all those who had been raised by him to that dignity. When I consider this circum- stance, I cannot forbear lamenting the transitory condition of mankind. Is there any thing in na- ture so short and limited as human life, even in its most extended period ? Does it not seem to you but yesterday that Nero existed ? And yet not one of all those who were consuls in his reign now remains ! But why should I wonder at an event so common ? Lucius Piso (the father of that Piso who was infamously assassinated by Valerius Festus in Africa) used to say, he did not see one person in the senate d who sat in that house when he was consul : such multitudes are swept away in so short a space ! I am, therefore, so far from thinking those remarkable tears of Xerxes need " certain, that this tomb stood on the other side of the town, " which looks towards mount Vesuvio." Addison's Travels, p. 164. Mabillon, in his Mus. Iial. p. 112, says, the following epitaph was dug up there : Sistite -ciatores quceso, pauca legite : Hie situs est Maro ! Stay travellers, I beg, and read this short inscription : Here lies Maro! * The number of senators, as regulated by Augustus, was 600, VOL. I, L 154 THE LETTERS BOOK III. need any apology, that in my judgment, history does honour to his character, which informs us, that when this prince had attentively surveyed his immense army, he could not forbear weeping, from the reflection that t so many thousand lives would so soon be extinct. The more ardent, therefore, should our endeavours be to lengthen out this short portion of existence, if not by a- chievements of glory (for occasions of that kind are not in our own power) yet, however, by those of literary honour ; and since it is not granted us to live long, let us transmit to posterity some me- morial that we have at least LIVED. I well know, you want not my excitement ; but the warmth of my affection inclines me to instigate you in the course you are actually pursuing ; as I have often been encouraged to proceed in mine by your ex- hortations. Happy contention, when two friends thus strive who shall animate each other most in their mutual pursuits of immortal fame ! Farewel. LETTER VIII. To TRANQUILLUS. 1 HE obliging manner in which you desire me to confer the military tribunate* upon your relation, which I h,ad obtained of the most illustrious b Ne- ratius * See Book 4. Le f . 4. note*. b This was a title given to all senators, in the times of the latter emperors. 1 Book III. OF PLINY. 155 ratius Marcellus for yourself, is agreeable to that respect with which you always treat me. As it would have given me great pleasure to have seen you in that post, so it will not be less acceptable to me to have it bestowed upon the person you recommend : for hardly, I think, would it be con- sistent to wish the advancement of a friend's ho- nours, and yet envy him the noblest of all dis- tinctions, that of a generous and an affectionate relation. To deserve preferment, and to bestow it, is a glorious character; and it will be yours, if you resign to your friend what is due to your own merit. Of this glory I too shall partake; when the world shall know, by the present in- stance, that my friends are not only raised to the tribuneship, but have the power also to confer of it. I readily, therefore, comply with your gene- rous request ; and, as your name is not yet enter- ed upon the roll, I can, without difficulty, insert that of Silvanus in its stead. Maybe accept this good office at your hands with the same graceful disposition, as I am sure you will receive it from mine ! Farewel. L 2 LETTER :56 THE LETTERS BOOK III. LETTER IX. To Ml NUT I AX US. I AM now at leisure to inform you of the great fatigue I underwent in defence of the province of Bastica : a cause which turned upon a variety of questions, and took up several clays in hearing. Caecilius Classicus was governor of Bastica, the year that Marius Priscus administered the same Office in Africa. Csecilius was a man of a base, abandoned character, and had exercised his au- thority with great violence and oppression. He Vas a native of Africa, as Priscus was of Ba3tica ; in allusion to which the latter people used archly to say, (for a strong sense of injuries often gives a certain poignancy to the expression of one's feelings) we arc paid in cur own coin 3 . The only difference a This .seems to be one of tbose passages (o which it is- impos- .sible, not only fora translator to do justice, but, perhaps, even for the most skilful in the original language to enter into its true spirit. The expression, in "its primary sense, implies no more than this : " I have received a wound and returned it." (Dedi inalum 4" accept ) in which there does not appear even the faintest shadow of wit or raillery. An instance of the same kind occurs in Book 4. Let. 11. where our author commends a sarcasm of Valerius Licinianus, as the most severe and spirited imaginable, though there seems to be little in it to deserve that character. In both cases, it is highly probable, that the force of the raillery consisted either in some allusion, which we can- not discover at this distance ; or the words themselves, perhaps, might, by some double meaning, carry a sense when the)' wer spoken, which is now lost. Nor is it to be wondered we should b under a. difficulty of this kind, wheo the Romans themselves, Bo OK III. OF PLINY. difference between them was, that Marios was prosecuted on the part of a single city, as also by several private persons ; whereas, the charge against Classicus was brought in the name of the whole united province of Baetica. He escaped, however, the consequences of this impeachment, either by an accidental or voluntary death, I know not which. It is certain, at least, the world imputed to him the disgrace of the latter ; though I must confess that point is to me extremely doubtful. For as, on the one hand, it is reason- able to suppose, that any man would rathe? choose to die than be arraigned on a charge from which he could not clear himself; so, oft the other, it is surprising, that he who was not ashamed to commit the crimes of which he wa5 accused, should yet prefer death to the disgrac^ of a public conviction. Nevertheless, the Baetici persisted in going on with the prosecution against him. This privilege, which the laws admit, wa3 now, after long disuse, revived. They went far-* ther, and insisted that his accomplices should, likewise, be proceeded Against at the same time. I was counsel for the province, together with Lucceius as Quinctiliau informs ns, were, even in bis time, at a loss to discover the true humour of several of Cicero's occasional Sons Mots, in tfeat collection of them which were then extant ; and that penetrating critic assures us, that though many had en. deavoured to clear up and explain the force and propriety of them, the attempt had always proved unsuccessful. Quinct, 1, 6, c. 3. L 3 168 THE LETTERS BOOK III. Lucceius .Albinus. He is a copious and elegant speaker ; and though I always loved the man, yet, the being joined with him in this cause, has considerably heightened my affection. There is something in the pursuit of fame, especially of the oratorical kind, that is selfish, unsociable, and jealous of participation ; but there was no ri- valship between us, and we united our common Efforts in this trial, without being mutually ex- cited by any envious contention to display supe- rior talents. We thought the point in question was of too much importance, and of too compli- cated a nature, for each of us to be limited to a single speech ; being apprehensive we should nei- ther have strength, nor time, to 'make good our charge against so many parlies, if we comprised them all under one general accusation. Such a variety of persons and facts would be apt to con- found, as well as weary, the attention of the judges. Besides, in that collective way of proceeding, ei- ther the interest of some might prove a protection to all the rest ; or, the most inconsiderable of the party might be sacrificed to the justice of their country, in order to favour the escape of those of a, more conspicuous rank : for partiality never ex- erts itself with more success, than when it is con- cealed under the specious appearance of severity. We remembered the advice of Sertorius, who di- rected the strongest soldier to tear off the horse's tail BOOK III. OF PLINY. 159 tail at once, and the weakest to pull it off hair by hair. But you know the story*. In the same manner, we thought we had no other way to cope with such a numerous body of criminals, but by attacking them singly. Our first and principal point was to prove Classicus guilty, which would prepare the way to his accomplices ; for, till that was done, it would not be possible to fix any charge upon the latter. Amongst these, we sin- gled out Baebius Probus, and Fabius Hispanus, whom we thought it advisable to arraign imme- diately after Classicus ; these persons being con- siderable, by their interest, and Hispanus, in par- ticular, by his eloquence. There was no difficul- ty in proving the allegations against Classicus ; for there was found among his memorandums, an account, under his own hand, of the several sums, he had taken, and upon what occasions. A let- ter * The story, as related by Valerius Maximus, is to this pur- pose : Sertorius being proscribed by Sylla, put himself at the head of the Lusitani. These people, upon a certain occasionj were for attacking, at once, the whole Roman army, greatly su- perior to them in numbers. Sertorius endeavoured to dissuade them, by all the arguments in his power, from so rash a pur- pose ; but finding his oratory prevailed nothing, he ordered two horses to be brought before him, and calling a young lusty sol- dier, and a worn out veteran, he directed the former to pull off the horse's tail at once, and the other by degrees. The conse- quence was, the young man exerted all his strength in vain, while the old fellow performed his task. Thus, says that au- thor, these rude, ungovernable people, who were running head* long to their destruction* were convinced 1 by this visible represen- tation, of the justness of that advice, which had no influence upon them in the way of reasoning. Val. Max, 1. 7. failing possession, to purchase some spot upon this studious and contemplative coast. Farewel. LETTER VII. To LEPIDUS. . 1 HAVE often told you that Regulusis a man of spirit : whatever he engages in, he is sure to exe- cute in a most extraordinary manner. He chose lately to be extremely concerned for the loss of his son : accordingly, he mourned for him in a way which no man ever mourned before. He took it into his head that he would have several statues and representations of his person; immediately all the artizans in Rome are set to work. Paint, wax, brass, silver, ivory, marble, all exhibit the figure VOL. I. O of 202 THE LETTERS BOOK IV. of young Regulus. Not long ago he read, before a numerous audience, a long panegyric upon the life of his son : a large volume upon the life of a boy ! Then a thousand transcribers were employed to copy this curious narrative, which he dispersed all over the empire. He wrote, likewise, a sort of circular letter to the several Decurii*, to desire they would select one of their order who had a strong clear voice, to read this eulogy to the peo- ple ; and I am informed it has been read according- ly. Had this spirit (or whatever else you will call vehemence in executing all one undertakes) been rightly applied, what infinite good might it have produced ! The misfortune is, this warmth of tem- per is generally strongest in men of vicious cha- racters : for, as ignorance begets rashness, and knowledge inspires deliberation; so modesty is apt to check the exertions of genius, whilst confidence animates and excites the activity of little minds. Regulus is a signal proof of the truth of this obser- vation : he has a weak voice, an awkward address, an indistinct utterance, a slow imagination, and no memory; in a word, he is nothing but a compo- sition of absurdity : and yet, by the assistance of a flighty turn and much impudence, he passes, with many, for a finished orator. Herennius Se- necio reversed CatoV definition of an orator, and applied See Book 1. Let. 8. in note. b Cato, as we learn from Nonius, composed a treatise upon rhetoric, for the use of his son, wherein he defined an orator to be BOOK IV. OF PLINY. 203 applied it with great justness to Regulus : " An " orator," said be, " is a bad man, unskilled in the " art of speaking.'* And, in fact, Cato's defini- tion is not a more exact description of a true ora- tor, than Senecio's is of the character of this man. Would you make a suitable return to this letter ? O 2 let be, a good man skilled in the art of speaking. The judicious Quinctilian has embraced this notion, and employs a whole chapter to prove that, " None but a good man can be an ora- " tor," for, want of virtue is, in this excellent critic's estima- tion, want of genius : noble sentiments, and unworthy actions, can never, he maintains, reside in the same bosom: in eodem pectore nullum eat honest um turpiumque consortium. Inst. Orat. 1. 12. c. 1. Longinus establishes the same principle; as it, in- deed, prevails iti general, throughout the ancients, which they extend not only to oratory, but poetry, and all the fine arts. A modern author (whom future ages will mention with the best of the an<5ients) has adopted this opinion, and illustrated it in several parts of his writings : " Knavery," says that noble writer, " is mere dissonance and disproportion ; and though vil- " lains may have strong tones, and natural capacities of action; " it is impossible that true judgment and ingenuity should re- " side, where harmony and honesty have no being. Thus the " sense of inward numbers, the knowledge and practice of soci- " al virtues, and the familiarity and favour of the moral graces, " are essential to the character of a deserving artist, and just " favourite of the Muses. Thus are the arts and virtues mutu- " ally friends; and the science of Virtuosos, and that of virtue " itself, become, in a manner, one and the same." [Charac- teristics, vol. 1. p. 208, 338.] Virtue, no doubt, is the highest good sense, and all deviations from moral rectitude are so many false reasonings. Still, it must be owned and regretted, that great parts have too often been found united with great defici- encies of the moral kind, to make the reality of that character either improbable or uncommon. Experience will force us to give credit to history in this case, rather than to philosophy, and oblige us to acknowledge there is nothing inconsistent in what the elegant Paterculus says of Curio, whom he represents as, '- geniosissime nequam fy facundus malo publico : " most ingeni- " ously wicked, and eloquent to the destruction of bis coun- " try." Paterc. Hist. 1. 2. 48. 204 THE LETTERS BOOK IV. let me know if you, or any of my friends in your town, have, with an air of pleasantry mouthed (as Demosthenes calls it) this melancholy piece to the people, like a stroller in the market-place. For so absurd a performance must move rather laughter than compassion; and, indeed, the com- position is as puerile as the subject. Farewel. LETTER VIII. To ARRIAXUS. iVly advancement to the dignity of augur*, is an honour that justly, indeed, merits your con- gratulations ; not only as it is highly glorious to receive, even in the slightest instances, a testi- mony of the approbation of so wise and judicious a prince 6 ; but as it is also an ancient and sacred institution, which has this high and peculiar pri- vilege annexed to it, that it is for life c . Other sacerdotal offices, though they may, perhaps, be equal to this in dignity, yet, as they are given, so they may be taken away : but fortune has no farther power over this, than to bestow it. What recommends a Their business was to interpret dreams, oracles, prodigies, &c. and to foretel whether any action should be fortunate, or prejudicial to particular persons, or to the whole common- wealth. Upon this account, they very often occasioned the displacing of magistrates, the deferring of public assemblies, &c. Rennet's Rom. Antiq. p. 67. * Trajan. c See Book 2. Let. 1. in note. BOOK IV. OF PLINY. 205 recommends this dignity to me still more is, that I have the honour to succeed so illustrious a per- son as Julius Frontinus. He, for many years, upon the nomination day of proper persons to be received into the sacred college, constantly pro- posed me, as if he had a view to my being his successor; and since it has actually proved so in the event, I am willing to look upon it as some- thing more than accident. But the circumstance, it seems, that most pleases you in this prefer- ment is, that Tully 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, as I had the advantage to be elected ear- lier into the sacred college and consular office O than Cicero, so I might, in my more advanced years, catch some spark, at least, of his divine genius ! The former, as it is in the disposal of man, may be conferred on me and on many others ; but the latter is an attainment much too arduous for my powers, and is the gift alone of heaven. Farewel. O 3 LETTER 206 THE LETTERS BOOK IV. LETTER IX. To UHSUS. VVE have been engaged, for several days past, in the cause of Julius Bassus; a man grown familiar with misfortunes, and rendered conspicuous by a series of calamities. In the reign of Vespasian, two private persons informed against him : and the affair being referred to the senate, it depend- ed there a considerable time ; when, at last, he was honourably acqitted. During the time of Titus, he was under continual apprehensions of his displeasure, as being known to favour the interests of Domitian ; yet, when the latter as- cended the throne, Bassus was exiled, but after- wards recalled by Nerva. Having obtained the proconsulship of Bithynia, he was, at his return from thence, accused of bribery and extortion ; and as he was prosecuted with great warmth, he was defended with equal spirit. The sentiments of the senate were much divided ; however, the majority were on the most favourable side. Pom- ponius Rufus, a man of acute parts, and vehe- ment in his manner of elocution, was counsel against him. He was seconded by Theophanes, one of the deputies from the province, and, in- deed, the origin and instigator of this prosecu- tion. I began the reply ; for Bassus insisted that the foundation of his defence should be laid by me. BOOK IV. OF FLINT. 207 me. He desired me to represent the just consi- deration that was due to his illustrious birth, to his own rank, and to the persecution lie had for- merly suffered ; that his accusers were informers by profession, who reaped considerable advan- tage by their trade* ; and to display the true rea- sons which rendered him odious to the seditious, and particularly to Theophanes ; but, above all, to confute the principal charge that was brought against him : for, in respect to all the other hei- nous article of the accusation, he not only de- served to be acquitted, but highly commended. The circumstance which pressed with the great- est weight in the case was, that, in the simpli- city of his heart, he had incautiously received the gifts which some of his friends in the pro- vince (for he had been among them before as quasstor) thought proper to send him. This, which his accusers called rapine and extortion, Bassus justified under the name of presents. But then the laws expressly forbid persons in his station, to receive any presents whatsoever. Now, what mode of defence should I adopt upon this occasion ? If I denied the fact, I was afraid it would look like a tacit confession ; that, sup- posing it true, it was actually extortion : besides, to disown what was so notorious, would be to strengthen " Informers had a fourth part of the effects of the person* convicted. O 4 - 08 THE LETTERS BOOK IV. strengthen rather than to extenuate the charge. And, indeed, he had put the denial out of the power of his counsel, if they had thought it proper : for, he had acknowledged to several persons, and particularly to the emperor, that he had received and returned a few slight presents, hoth upon his birth-day, and at the feast of the Saturnalia b . Should I apply to the clemency of the senate ? That would be ruining my client at once, by confessing the nature of his offence was such, that there was no other way of saving him. Should I then justify the fact ? But, in so doing, I should have injured my own character, without rendering any service to Bassus. Under these difficulties, -I thought it would be best to steer a middle course, and I flatter myself I happily hit upon it. But night coming on, separated, as usual, the combatants. I had spoken for three hours and a halfj so that I had still an hour and half remaining. For the law having allowed six hours to the plaintiff, and nine to the defendant, Bassus had so divided this portion of time be- tween me and the advocate who was to speak after me, that I had five hours, and the latter the rest. But perceiving my speech had made a fa- vourable impression upon the senate, I thought it would be most adviseable to add nothing more ; b Celebrated in honour of Saturn ; at which time it was cus ternary for friends to send presents to one another. BOOK IV. OF PLINY. 2 09 mote; for it is not prudent, you knoAV, to push one's success too far. Besides, I was apprehen- sive Lshould not have strength to renew the de- fence the next day ; as it is much easier to go on without interruption, than to resume after a long intermission. There was yet another conside- ration which had great weight with me : I was afraid, that, as the discontinuance of my speech would abate my own ardour, so the resumption of it might prove tiresome to my hearers. When an harangue is carried on in one continued flow, the speaker best keeps up his own ardour, and the attention of the audience ; both which are apt to cool and become languid by intermission; just as a continued motion preserves the light of a torch, which, when once it is extinct, is not easily re-lumed. But Bassus, almost M'ith tears in his eyes, earnestly entreated me to proceed with his defence for the remainder of the time, and I accordingly complied, preferring his inte- rest to my own. The event proved agreeable to our wishes ; for I found the attention of the se- nate as fresh and lively as if it had been rather animated, than fatigued by my preceding speech. I was seconded by Luceius Albinus, who enter- ed so thoroughly into the principles of my rea- soning, that our arguments, whilst they had the variety of different and distinct pleadings, had the connexion and uniformity of one continued ha- rangue. 210 THE LETTERS BOOK IV. rangue. Herennius Pollio replied to us with great spirit and power : and after him Theophanes spoke again ; in this, as in every thing else, dis- covering his uncommon assurance, hy presuming to take up the time of the senate after two such eloquent persons, and of consular dignity b , had immediately preceded him. He continued ha- ranguing till evening, and even beyond it ; for lights were brought in. The next day, Titius Homulus, and Fronto, spoke admirably in de- fence of Bassus. The fourth day was employed in examining the proofs. Ba3bius Macer, the consul elect, declared Bassus guilty, within the express words of the law relating to bribery and extortion. Caspio Hispo was of opinion, that, without affecting his dignity, the case should be referred to the ordinary judges : and both their sentiments were founded in reason. You will wonder how that can possibly be true, since they were so extremely different. But you will ob- serve that Macer, who considered the mere letter of the law, might very reasonably condemn him, when it appeared he had taken presents contrary to its express prohibition. On the other hand, Ca;pio, supposing that the senate had a power (as undoubtedly it has) to mitigate or to urge the rigour b The two persons here meant are Herennius Pollio, and Pom- ponius Rufus, mentioned above, who pleaded against Bassus, on the same side with Theophanes. Some critics, indeed, sup- pose Pliny includes himself; but the contrary seems plain from the context. See Masson. vit. Plin. 119. BOOK IV. OF PLINY. 211 rigour of the laws, might, upon very good grounds, think this a case worthy of their cle- mency, as being (though, indeed, contrary to the express letter of the law, yet) not unfre- quently practised. The motion of Caspio pre- vailed, and when he rose up to give the reasons for his vote, the same acclamations attended him, as usually follow an approved decision. You will easily judge, therefore, how great the applause was after he had delivered his opinion, when he received such a singular mark of appro- bation before he had uttered a word. I find the sentiments of those without doors, as well as in the senate, are divided : they who approve of Caspio's vote, condemn Macer's as severe and hard ; on the contrary, the partizans of Macer's opinion, treat the other as too mild, and, in- deed, inconsistent. They assert, that it is highly absurd to send a man to be tried before the ordinary judges, and yet suffer him to re- tain his seat in the senate. I should have told you that there was, besides those sentiments I have mentioned, a third opinion. Valerius Paulinus, who joined with Caepio, was for add- ing, that the senate should proceed against Theophanes, after he should have discharged his commission as deputy from the province. For he insisted that Theophanes had been guilty of several of those misdemeanors which fell 212 THE LETTERS COOK IV. fell within the prohibition of this very law, and upon which he grounded his information against Bassus. But although this proposal was, in general, highly approved by the senate, yet the consuls thought proper to drop it: Paulinus, how- ever, had the full credit of so honest and bold a motion. At the breaking up of the senate, Bassus was received by great crowds of people with the highest demonstrations of joy, and the loudest ac- clamations. This new difficulty which he had fallen into, had recalled the remembrance of his former troubles ; and a name, which had never been mentioned but in conjunction with some misfortune, together with the appearance of a fine person broken with sorrow and age, had raised a general compassion towards him. You may look upon this letter as the forerunner of my speech, which, long and copious as it is, I shall send you at large ; but you must not expect it soon ; for it is a subject of too much importance to be revised in haste. Farewel. LETTER X. To SABINUS. YOUR letter informs me, that Sabina, who ap- pointed you and me her heirs, though she has no where expressly directed that Modestus shall have his freedom, yet has left him a legacy in the fol- 1 lowing BOOK IV. OF PLINY. 213 lowing words ; "I give, c.>-to Alodestus, whom I " have ordered to have his freedom :" upon which you desire my sentiments. I have consulted the most learned lawyers, and they all agree Modestus is not entitled to his liberty, since it is not cd'- prexsly given, and, consequently, that the legacy is void, as being devised to a slave*. But it ap- pears plainly to be a mistake in the testatrix; and, therefore, I think we ought to act, in this case, as if Sabina had directed, in so many words, what it is clear she imagined she had ordered. I am per- suaded you will join with me in this opinion, who so religiously regard the will of the dead: which, indeed, where it can be discovered, will always be law to an honest mind. 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, in as full a manner, as if Sabina had observed all the requisite forms ; as, indeed, they effectually do, who make a judi- cious choice of the persons whom they appoint their heirs. Farewel. LETTER XL To MlNUTIA-XUS. You have scarcely, I imagine, yet heard (for the news is but just arrived) that Licianus is become a professor in Sicily. This unfortunate person, who * A slave was incapable of property, and, therefore, what- ever he acquired became the right of his master. 214 THE LETTERS BOOK IV. who lately enjoyed the dignity of prsetor, 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. Liciniaus himself took notice of this sad change, in a pathetic speech which he made at the opening of his school : " Oh " Fortune,''' said he, " how capriciously dost thou " sport with mankind ! Thou makes t rhetoricians " of senators, and senators of rhetoricians ! a sarcasm so poignant and full of gall*, that one might almost imagine he fixed upon this profes- sion merely for the sake of an opportunity of ap- plying it. Being dressed, when he first appeared in the chair, after the Grecian fashion (for exiles are not permitted to wear the Roman gown) " Alas" says he, looking upon his garment, " / " am 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 by his abo- minable lewdness. It is true, indeed, he confessed the crime with which he was charged ; but whether it was from a consciousness of his guilt, or from an apprehension of worse consequences if he denied it, is not clear ; for Domitian's vengeance gene- rally raged with the greatest fury, where his evi- dence failed him most. That emperor had deter- mined that Cornelia Maximilla, one of the vestal virgins, a See Book 3. let. 9. note*. BOOK IV. OF PLINY. 215 virgins 1 *, should be buried alive ; from an extra- vagant notion tbat tbis sort of exemplary severi- ties did honour to his reign. Accordingly, in the character of high priest, or rather, indeed, in that of a lawless and cruel tyrant, he convened the sacred college, not in the pontifical court, where they usually assemble, but at his villa near Alba ; and there (by a sentence no less wicked, as it was passed when she was not present to defend her- self, than as it was the effect of passion and re- venge), he condemned her of leaving violated her O ' * O vestal vow. Yet he himself had been guilty, not only of debauching his brother's daughter, but was also accessary to her death : for that lady, be- ing a widow, in order to conceal her shame, en- deavoured to procure an abortion, and, by that means, lost her life. However, the priests were directed to see the sentence immediately executed upon fc " Their office was to attend upon the rites of Vesta, the chief part of which was the preservation of the holy fire. If this fire happened to go out, it was thought 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 other holy things under their care, of which we have very uncertain accounts. The chief rules prescribed them were, to vow the strictest chas- tity for the space of 30 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 pe- culiar use." Kennet's Antiq. Their character for sanctity was so great, that Livy mentions two of those virgins having violated thejr vows, as a prodigy that threatened destruction to the Ro- man state. L. 22. c. 57. And Suetonius informs us, that Au- gustus had so high an opinion of this religious order, that he con- signed the care of his will to six of these vestals. Suet, in vit. Aug. 216' THE LETTERS BOOK IV. upon Cornelia. As they were leading her to the place of execution, she implored Vesta, and the rest of the gods, to attest her virtue ; and amongst other exclamations, frequently cried out, " Is it " possible that Cccsar can think me. polluted, un- " der the influence of whose sacred function* he " has conquered and triumphed?'' 1 Whether she said this in flattery or derision ; whether it pro- ceeded from a consciousness of her innocence, or contempt of the emperor, is not certain ; but she continued exclaiming in this manner, till she came to the place of execution, to which she was con- ducted at least like a criminal, though, perhaps, blameless. As she was descending into the sub- terraneous cavern, her robe hitched upon some- thing in the way, and turning back to disengage it, the executioner offered her his hand, which she refused with some horror, as if she could not touch it without-impurity. Thus she preserved the appearance of untainted chastity to the con- cluding scene of her life, " A And her last care was decently to fall" Celer,likewise,aRoman knight, who was accused of having had an intrigue with her, during the whole time his sentence* was executing in the square near the c It was usual with Domitian to triumph, not only without a victory, but even after a defeat. Euripides, in his tragedy of Hecuba. The punishment inflicted upon the violators of vestal chas- tity, was, to be scourged to death. BOOK IV. or PLINY. the senate-house, persisted in saying, " What " crime have I committed f I have committed " none." These declarations of innocency had exceedingly exasperated Domitian, as imputing to him acts of cruelty and injustice. Accord- ingly, Licinianus being seized by the emperor's or- ders for having carried off a freed-woman of Cor- nelia's, and concealed her at one of his estates, was advised, by the persons who had him in custody, to confess the fact, if he hoped to obtain a remis- sion of his punishment : and he complied withthei/r advice. Herennius Senecio spoke for him in his absence, somewhat in that abrupt manner which Antilochus in Homer b relates the death of Patro- clus : " Dead is Patroclus /" " Instead of an " advocate,' 7 said he, " I must turn informer : " Jjicinianus is fled /" This news was so agreeable to Domitian, that he could not forbear betraying his satisfaction : " Then" says he, " has Lici- " nlanus acquitted us of injustice ; and we rcill t! not urge his punishment to the utmost." He accordingly permitted him to carry off such of his effects as he could secure before they were seized for the use of the public j and, in other respects, k II. Lib. 18. v. 20. Antilochus appears, And tells the melancholy tale with tears ; Sad tidings, son of Pelens, thou must hear, And wretched I, th' unwilling messenger! Dead is Patroclus ! POPE. VOL. I. P 2ig THE LETTERS BooKlV. respects, softened the sentence of his banishment, as a sort of reward for this voluntary confession. Licinianus was afterwards, by the clemency of the emperor Nerva, permitted to fix in Sicily, where he now professes rhetoric, and inveighs against the caprices of fortune. You see how obedient I am to your commands, by sending you a circumstantial detail of foreign as well as domestic news. I imagined, indeed, as you were absent when this transaction happened, you had heard only, in general, that Licinianus was banished upon account of his lewd crimes. For fame usually makes her report in general terms, without relating particular "circumstances. I think I deserve, in return, a full account of all that happens- in your town, and neighbourhood; for sometimes, no doubt, occurrences arise there worth relating : at all events, however, write any thing you please, provided you send me a letter as long as mine. But I give you notice, I will abate nothing in this demand, and I shall not only number the sides, but even the very lines and syllables. Farewel. LETTER BOOK IV. OF PLINY. 219 LETTER XII. To ARRIANUS. 1 KNOW you love Marcellinus, and, indeed, you have frequently mentioned him to me with parti- cular approbation ; but he will rise still higher in your esteem, when I inform you of the honoura- ble part he has lately acted. When he went quses- tor into one of the provinces, the person to whose lot it fell to attend him as secretary, happening to die before his salary became due, Marcellinns had too much honour to think he had a right of ap- plying the sum, which the public had appointed for that purpose, to his own use. At his return, therefore, he applied to Caesar ; who referred the consideration of what should be done with this money, to the senate. It was a question, indeed, of no great importance ; however, a question it was. The heirs of the secretary claimed it for them- selves ; and the commissioners of the treasury for the public. The cause was tried, and counsel on behalf of each party were heard, who spoke ex- tremely well for their respective clients. Csecilius Strabo was of opinion that the public had a right to this money ; Baebius Macer thought it legally belonged to the heirs : but it was determined a- agreeably to the sentiments of the former. You will, I am persuaded, take the first opportunity, as I did, of expressing your approbation to Mar- cellinus of this conduct ; for though, indeed, it P 2 is THE LETTERS BOOK IV. is abundantly sufficient that he has received the applause of the emperor and the senate, yet the ad- dition of yours will be a very considerable satis- faction to him. Those who are actuated by a sense of fame, are fond of praise, even though it comes from their inferiors ; but Marcellinus has s6 high a respect for you, as to be particularly desirous of approving himself to your judgment. To which let me add, it will increase his satisfac- tion when he finds, that the fame of this action has travelled so far as to have reached your parts. For I know not how it is, mankind are generally more pleased with an extensive than tvn a great reputation. Farewel. LETTER XIII. To CORNELIUS TACITUS. I REJOICE that you are safely arrived in Rome j for though I am always desirous to see you, I am more particularly so now. I purpose to con- tinue a few days longer at my house at Tus- culum, in order to finish a work which I have upon my hands. For I am afraid, should I put a stop to this design, now that it is so nearly completed, I shall find it difficult to resume it. In the mean while, that I may lose no time, I send this letter before me to request a favour of you, which I hope shortly to ask in person. But before I inform you what my request is, I must let you into the occa- sion BOOK IV. OF PLINY. S21 sion of it. Being lately at Comum, the place of my nativity, a young lad, son to one of my neighbours, made me a visit. I asked him whe- O 7 ther he studied rhetoric, and where ? he told me he did, and at Mcdiolanum". And why not here ? " Because, (said his father, who came with him) we " have no professors." " No !" said I; "surely it " nearly concerns you who are fathers (and very " opportunely several of the company were) that " your sons should receive their education here, " rather than any where else. For, where can " they be placed more agreeably than in their " own country, or instructed with more safety " and less expence than at home and under the " eye of their parents ? Upon what very easj " terms might you, by a general contribution, ** procure proper masters, if you would only ap- " ply towards the raising a salary for them, the 11 extraordinary expence you sustain for your sons " journies, lodgings, and for whatever else you " pay in consequence of their being educated at " a distance from home ; as pay you must, for " every article of every kind. Though I have " no children myself, yet I shall willingly contri- " bute to a design so beneficial to my native " country, which I consider as my child or niy ''parent; and, therefore, I will advance a third " part of any sum you should think proper to raise Milan. P3 222 THE LETTERS BOOK IV. ft raise for this purpose. I would take upon my- " self the whole expence, were I not apprehen- " sive that my benefaction might, hereafter, be " abused and perverted to private ends ; which I (< have observed to be the case in several places " where public foundations of this nature have " been established. The single mean to prevent " this mischief is, to leave the choice of the pro- " fessors entirely in the breast of the parents ; " who will be so much the more careful whom " they elect, as they will be obliged to share the " expence of their stipend. For though they may " be negligent in disposing of another's bounty, " they will certainly be cautious how they apply " their own ; and will see that none but those " who deserve it shall receive my money, when " they must, at the same time, receive theirs too. " Let my example then encourage you to unite " heartily in this useful design; and be assured, " the greater the sum my proportion shall amount <{ to, the- more agreeable it will be to me. You " can undertake nothing that will be more ad~ " vantageous to your children, nor more accept- " able to your country. Your sons will, by these " means, receive their education where they re- " ceived their birth, and be accustomed, from " their infancy, to inhabit and affect their native tc soil. May you be able to procure professors of " such distinguished abilities, that the neigh- bouring BOOK IV. OF PLINY, 223 " bourhi towns shall be glad to draw their o o (t learning from hence ; and, as you no\v send " your children to foreigners for education, may " foreigners, in their turn, flock hither for their ( ' instruction !" I thought proper thus to lay open to you the principles upon which this scheme turns, that you might be the more sensible how agreeable it will be to me, if you undertake the office I request. I entreat you, therefore, with all the earnestness a matter of so much importance deserves, to look out, amongst the great numbers of men of let- ters whom the reputation of your genius brings to you, proper persons to whom we may apply for this purpose ; but without entering into any a^ greement with them on my part. For I would leave it entirely free to the parents to judge and choose as they shall see proper : all the share I pretend to claim is, that of contributing my as- sistance and my money. If, therefore, any one shall be found who thinks himself qualified for the office, he may repair thither : but without re-* lying upon any thing but his merit, Farewel. LETTER XIV, To PA TERN us. You expect, perhaps, as usual, some grave ora- tion ; but I am going to make you a present, as P 4 a kind 224 THE LETTERS BOOK IV. kind of curiosity, of some of my poetical amusements. You will receive then, with this letter, a collection of my verses, which I wrote in order to while away an idle hour upon the road, in the bathing, room, or between the time of supper. They were composed upon different occasions, as I found myself in a gay, an amo- rous, a melancholy, or satirical humour ; and, accordingly, the style is sometimes of the florid and sometimes of the concise kind. I endea- voured, by this variety, to hit different tastes ; and some things may be found in them, perhaps, of general relish. If you should meet with any passages which may seem somewhat too wanton- ly expressed, your reading will supply you with my apology, in the example of those great and Venerable names who have gone before me in the same kind of writing, who, without scruple, have employed not only the warmest descriptions, but the plainest terms. This, however, is a liberty I have not allowed myself; not as pretending to more severity (for why should I ?) but because, in- truth, I have less courage. Nevertheless, 1 entirely approve of the rule which Catullus lays down for this kind of compositions : Let the poet's conduct be Free /rain wanton lenity : Not so his Muse her sportive lay Pleases most, when most she's gay. You BOOK IV. or PLINY. You must look upon it as an instance of the great value I set upon your judgment, that I venture to submit the whole to your examination, rather than select some of the more finished pieces for your approbation. Indeed, in this kind of mis- cellaneous collections, what would pass well enough if they were viewed separately, lose all their advantage, by appearing in better com- pany. But a sensible and discerning reader ought not to compare pieces of distinct sorts with one another, but examine each performance apart, and if it be perfect in its kind, not condemn it because it does not equal the beauties of some others of a different nature. But I will say no- thing more concerning them : for to attempt to excuse or recommend this idle business by along preface, would be adding one folly to another. I will only, therefore, premise farther, that I de- sign to give these trifles the title of hendecasyl- lables*, in allusion to the measure in which the verses are composed. Call them, if you think proper, epigrams, eclogues, or (as many others have) sonnets ; in a word, give them what name you please, I offer them only as hendecasyllables. All I beg of your sincerity is, that you would speak your opinion of them to me, with the same freedom that you would to others. When I ask this, I think, I lay you under no difficulty. If, indeed, * A verse consisting of eleven syllables. 226 THE LETTERS BOOK IV, indeed, these little poetical essays were my only or chief productions, it might sound, perhaps, a little harsh to advise me, to turn my mind tOS. THE request you make me to revise and correct that copy of my works which you have taken the pains to collect, I shall most willingly comply with ; us, indeed, there is nothing I ought to perform with more readiness, especially at your instance. When a man of such dignity, litera- ture, and eloquence,. deeply engaged in husiness, and entering upon the important government of a province, has so good an opinion of my com- positions, as to think them worth taking with him; how am I obliged to endeavour that this part of his baggage may not seem an useless em- barrassment ! My first care, therefore, shall be, that they may attend you with all the advantages possible ; and my next, to supply you, at your re- turn, with others, which you may not think un- deserving to be added to the former; for I can liave no stronger encouragement to increase the number of my writings, than the being assured of rinding a reader of your taste and discernment. Farewel. LETTER XXVII. To FALCO. 1 HAVE been attending, these three days, the re- cital of Augurinus's sonnets, which I heard not only BOOK IV. OF PLINY. only with great pleasure, but even admiration.- They are conceived with much delicacy of senti- ment, are expressed with great elegance, and abound with numberless strokes of the tender and the sublime, of wit and of satire. I am of opi- nion, there has not, for these many years, ap- peared any thing more finished of the kind : if, indeed, my great affection for him, and the praises he bestows upon me, do not bias my judgment. He introduces his poems, with observing, that I sometimes amuse myself with writing verses. If I .can recollect the second line of this introduc- tion, (for the rest I remember, and have often repeated) you shall judge if my opinion of them is just : Sweetly flow my tender lays. Like Calvuf or Catullus' strains, (Bards approved of ancient days ! J Where love in all its softness reigns. Yet wherefore ancient poets name ? Let Pliny my example be : Him the sacred nine inflame ; More than ancient poets he ! To mutual lore he tunes the lay, While far the noisy bar he flies : Say, then, ye grave, ye formal, say, Who shall gentle love despise ? You THE LETTERS BOOK IV. You see with what sprightliness of imagination, what propriety of sentiment, what clearness of expression, the whole is wrought up ; and in this taste, I will venture to assure you, you will find his performance in general : I will send it to you as soon as it shall be published. In tbe mean while, admit this excellent youth into a share of your affection, and congratulate our age on the production of such a genius, whose virtues render him still more illustrious. He spends his time partly with Spurinna, and partly with Antoninus, having the honour to be the relation of one and the companion of both. You will easily imagine what uncommon virtues he must possess, who is thus the favourite of two such venerable old men : for the poet's observation is most undoubtedly true : Those who in close society are join 'd> In manners equal you will ever find* : Farewel. LETTER XXVIII. To SEVERUS. JAERENIUS' Severus, a person of distinguished erudition, is exceedingly desirous to have the pictures of two of your countrymen, Cornelius Nepos, and Titus Cassius, to adorn his library ; and 8 Euripides. BOOK IV. OF PLIN\ r . 24T and has entreated me, if they are to be met with, where you are (as probably they may) that I would procure copies for him. That care I re- commend to you, rather than to any other, not only because I know your friendship for me rea- dily inclines you to comply with my requests, but as being* sensible of the high regard you have for learning and all her friends ; and that your affection and veneration for those who have proved an ornament to your country, is equal to that which you bear towards your country her- self. I beg you, therefore, to employ some skil- ful hand in this work ; for if it is difficult to catch a likeness from the life, it is much more so to preserve it in a copy ; from which I desire you will not suffer the painter to deviate, even for the better. Farewel. LETTER XXIX. TO ROMANUS. INDEED, my friend, you must, at all rates, take your place upon the bench the next time the court sits. In vain would your indolence repose itself under my protection ; for there is no ab- senting with impunity. Behold that severe pras- tor, the resolute Licinius Nepos, fining even a mighty senator for the same neglect ! The se- nator pleaded his cause in person, but pleaded in 1 suppliant 24S THE LETTERS BOOK IV. suppliant tone. The fine, 'tis true, was remit- ted ; but sore was his dismay, but humble his in- tercessions, but sad his necessity of being obliged to ask pardon. All magistrates in that office, you will tell me, perhaps, are not thus rigid. You may, however, be mistaken for though, indeed, to be the author and reviver of an exam- ple of this kind, may be an act of severity ; yet, when once it is introduced, even lenity herself may follow the precedent, Farewel. LETTER XXX. To Lie INI us. I HAVE brought you, as a present out of the couiir try, a query which well deserves the considera-? tion of your extensive knowledge. There is a spring which rises in a neighbouring mountain, and, running among the rocks, is received into a little banquetting-room, from whence, after the force of its current is a little restrained, it fails into the Larian Lake a . The nature of this spring is extremely surprising ; it ebbs and flows regu- larly three times a-day. The increase and de- crease is plainly visible, and very amusing to ob- serve. , You sit down by the side of the foun- tain, and, whilst 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* * See B. 1. Let. 3. in note. BOOK IV. OF PLINY. 249 ring, or any thing else, at the bottom, when it is dry, the stream reaches it by degrees, till it is en- tirely covered, and then gently retires ; and, if you wait, 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, as it approaches to or retires from it, as we see in bottles, and other vessels of that nature, where there is not a free and open passage, though you turn their necks downwards, yet the outward air obstructing the vent, they discharge their contents as it were by starts ? Or may it riot be accounted for upon the same principle as the flux and reflux of the sea? or as those rivers which discharge themselves into the sea, meeting with contrary winds and the swell of the ocean, are forced back into their chan- nels ; so 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, which, while it is recruiting its discharges, the stream flows more slowly, and in less quantity ; but when it has collected its due measure, it runs again in its usual strength and fulness? Or, lastly, is there I know not what kind of subter- raneous counters-poise, that throws up the water when the fountain is dry, and stops it when it is full ? You, who are so well qualified for the en- VOL. I. R quiry, 250 THE LETTERS BOOK IV. quiry, will examine the reasons 15 of this wonder- ful phenomenon ; it will be sufficient for me, if I have given you a clear description of it, Farewel. THE b There are several of these periodical fountains in different parts of the world, as we have some in England. Lay-well, near Tor bay, is mentioned 'in the Philosophical Transactions [No. 104. p. 909.] to ebb and flow several times every hour. The reasons of this kind of springs are of no very easy solution, and the causes assigned by modern philosophers are scarce more satisfactory than those pointed out by the ancients : perhaps they do not depend upon any general principle, but arise from different causes, according to their respective situations. The conjecture which Mr. Addison offers, in accounting for those he saw in Switzerland, seems plausible, and equally applicable tp this fountain mentioned by Pliny ; as it is probable it took its rise from the same mountains. " We saw," says that inimit- able author, in his description of Geneva and the lake, " in se- veral parts of the Alps that bordered upon us, vast pits of snow ; as several mountains, that lie at a greater distance, are wholly covered with it. I fancied the confusion of mountains and hollows I here observed, furnished me with a more probable reason than any I have met with, for these periodical fountains in Switzerland, which flow only at parti- cular hours of the day. For as the tops of these mountains cast their shadows upon one another, they hinder the sun's shining on several parts, at such certain times, so that there are several heaps of snow which have the sun lying upon them, for two or three hours together, and are in the shade all the day afterward. If, therefore, it happens, that any particular fountain takes its rise from any of these reservoirs of snow, it will naturally begin to flow on such hours of the day as the snow begins to rnelt : but as soon as the sun leaves it again to freeze and harden, the fountain dries up, and receives no more supplies till about the same time the next day, when the * heat of the sun again sets the snows a running, that fall into ' the same little conduits, traces, and canals, and by conse- ' quence break out, and discover themselves always in the sa*me ft place." Addisen's Trav. 353. THE LIT? HP HP Jc* X 4. OF PLINY. BOOK. V. LETTER I. To SEVERUS. A SMALL legacy, which was lately left me, has given me much greater pleasure than I should have received by a far more considerable bequest unattended with similar circumstances. Pompo- nia Gratilla, having disinherited her son, Assidius Curianus, appointed me, and Sertorius Severus, of praetorian rank, together with several eminent Roman knights, her co-heirs. The son applied to me to give him my share of the inheritance, in order to make use of my name, as an example to the rest of the joint-heirs ; but offered, at the same time, to enter into a secret agreement with me to return my proportion. I told him, it was R2 by 252 THE LETTERS BOOK V. by no means agreeable to my character, to seem to act one way, when, in truth, I was acting another ; and that there was something of mean- ness in making presents to a man of his fortune, who had no children : besides, it would not at all answer the purpose at which he was aiming. Indeed, (I added) 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 prove to me that he was unjustly disinherited. " Let me prevail with you, then," said he, " to " be my arbitrator in this case." After a short pause, I told him I consented to his proposal : " for why," said I, " should I not have as good " an opinion of my own impartial disinterested- " ness, as you seem to have ? But remember 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."" Be it agreeable to your inclina- " tion," he replied, " which I am sure is always " to act according to justice." I called to my assistance Corellius and Frontinus. two of the most considerable lawyers which Rome at that time afforded. Attended with those friends, 1 heard the cause in my chamber. Curianus said every thing which he thought could favour his pretensions, to whom (as there was nobody bu^l myself to defend the character of Grratilla) I made a short reply ; after which I retired with my BOOK V. OF PLINY. my friends to deliberate upon the case ; and then returning, acquainted Curianus that it was our opinion his conduct had justly drawn upon him his mother's displeasure. Some time afterwards, Curianus commenced a suit in the Cent umpired court against all the co-heirs except myself. The day appointed for the trial approaching, the rest of the co-heirs were desirous of compromising the affair; not out of any diffidence of their cause, hut from a distrust of the times. They were apprehensive that what had been the case of many others might happen to them, and, from a civil suit, it might end in a criminal one ; as there were some amongst them to whom the friend- ship of Gratilla and Rusticus 3 might prove ex- tremely prejudicial : they, therefore, desired me to talk with Curianus. Accordingly I had con- ference with him in the temple of Concord. " Suppose," said I, " 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 remain- " ing to you, could you justly have complained ? " you ought to be contented, therefore, if being " absolutely disinherited, as you are, the heirs " are a Gratilla was the wife of Rusticus : Rusticus was put to death by Domitian, and Gratilla banished. It was a sufficient crime in the reign of that execrable prince to be even a friend of those who were obnoxious to trim. See B. 7- let. 33. last note. R 3 254 THE LETTERS BOOK V. " are willing- to relinquish to you a fourth part " which, however, I will increase, by contribut- " ing my proportion. You know you did not " commence any suit against me ; so that the " prescription which I have gained by two years " peaceable possession, secures my share from any " claim you can set up against it. But, to in- " duce 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 to " me, I offer to advance my proportion with " them." The silent satisfaction of my own conscience is not the only pleasure this concession has af- forded me ; it has contributed also to the honour of my character. For it is the same Curianus who has left me the legacy I mentioned in the beginning of my letter ; and I received it as a very distinguishing mark, if I do not flatter my- self, of his approbation of my conduct. I have given you this detail, because, in all my joys and sorrows, I look upon you as myself, and I thought it would be unkind not to communicate to stf tender a friend whatever occasions me a sensible gratification ; as I confess this circumstance has proved : for I do not pretend to such refined strains of philosophy, as to be indifferent, when I think I have acted as becomes a man of probity, whether my actions meet with that approbation which is in some sort their reward. Farewel. LETTER BOOK V. OF PLINY. 255 LETTER II. To FLACCUSi 1 HE thrushes* I received from you were so ex- cellent, that my laurentinum is not capable of supplying me with any thing in this tempestuous season, either of the* land or sea kind, to make you a suitable return. I have only, therefore, to send you the ineffectual acknowledgments of a barren letter : an exchange more unequal, I con- fess, than that famous one of the subtle Diomed b . But your good-nature will so much the more rea- dily grant this idle epistle a pardon, as it confes- sedly does not deserve one. Farewel. LETTER * These birds, of which there are several sorts, wereSn high reputation among the Romans, and generally had a place upon all elegant tables. k Alluding to the story in Horn. Iliad, where Glaucus and Diomed having an interview betweeti the two armies, they dis- covered that a connexion of friendship and hospitality had for- merly subsisted between their families. Accordingly, Diomed proposes an exchange of their arms, as a token of reciprocal amity. , on, &c. -- Lib. 6. v. 230. Now change ice arms, and prove to either host, We guard the friendship of the line me boast. Thus having said - Their hands they join, their mutual faith they plight. Brave Glaucus then each narrow thought resign d, (Jove warm'd his bosom and enlarg'd his mind} Tor Diomed' s brass arms of mean device, For which nine oxen paid (a vulgar price} lie gave his own of gold divinely wrought ; An hundred beeves the shining purchase bought. POPS. R4 &( THE LETTERS BOOK V. LETTER III. To ARISTO. AMONG the many agreeable and obliging in- stances I have received of your friendship, your not concealing from me t]jje long conversation which lately passed at your house concerning my rerses, and the various judgments pronounced upon them, is by no means the least. There were some of the company, it seems, who did not disapprove my little poems, but, at the same time, censured me in a free and friendly manner, for employing myself in composing and reciting them. I am so far, however, from desiring to extenuate the charge, that I willingly acknow- ledge myself still more deserving of it ; and con- fess that I sometimes amuse myself with writing verses of the ludicrous and gayer kind. I com- pose comedies; divert myself with pantomimes ; read the lyric poets ; and enter into the spirit of the most wanton Muse ; in short, I am nothing averse from pleasantry, mirth, and gaiety ; or to sum up every kind of innocent amusement in one word, I am a man. I am not at all displeased, that those who are ignorant that the most learn- ed, the wisest, and the best of men have amused themselves in the same way, should be surprised at me : but those who know what noble exam- BOOK V. OF PLINY. 057 pies I follow, will allow me, I trust, thus to err with those whom it is an honour to imitate, not only in their most serious occupations, but. light- est amusements. 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, Sul- pitius, Varro, the Torquati, Memmius, Getuli- cus, Seneca, Lucceius, and in our own memory, Verginius Rufus ? But if the examples of private men are not sufficient to justify me, I can cite Julius Caesar, Augustus, Nerva, and Titus. I forbear to add Nero to the catalogue : though I O * o am sensible what is sometimes 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 Accius, justly deserve the most distinguished place. These last, indeed, were not senators ; hut propriety of conduct knows no distinction of rank or title. I recite my works, it is true, and, in this instance, I am not sure I can justify myself by their examples. They, perhaps, might be satisfied with their own : udgment : but I have too humble an opinion of mine, to suppose my compositions sufficiently per- fect, because they appear so to my own mind, My reasons THE LETTERS BOOK V. reasons then for reciting are, that there is a cer- tain reverence for one's audience, which fires the imagination, and excites a more vigorous appli- cation ; and that I have, by these means, an op- portunity of settling any doubts I may have con- cerning my performance, by observing the gene- ral sentiments of my auditors. In a word, I have the advantage of receiving different hints from different persons : and though they should not declare their opinions in express terms, yet the air of a countenance, the turn of a head or eye, the motion of a hand, a whisper, or even silence itself, will easily distinguish their real sentiments from the language of civility. Accordingly, if any one of my audience should have the curio- sity to peruse 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 defending my conduct in this particular, as if I had actually recited my works in public, and not in my own house before a se- lect party of my friends ; a numerous appearance of whom has, upon many occasions, been held an honour, but never surely a reproach. Farewel. LETTER BOOK V. OF PLINY. LETTER IV. To VALERIAN us, I HE fact which I am going to mention, though in itself of no great importance, may be attended with very considerable consequences. Sellers, a person of prsetorian rank, petitioned the senate for leave to hold a fair upon his estate. He was opposed in this by the deputies from the Vicen- tini a , who employed Tuscillinus Nominatus as their counsel. The cause was adjourned ; and at the next meeting the deputies appeared unattend- ed with their counsel, complaining that they had been grossly deceived: an expression, which whe- ther it dropped from them in the warmth of re- sentment, or that they really had reason to think so, I will not determine. Nepos, the praetor, asked them whom it was they had retained ? They re- plied, the same person who was counsel for them in the former instance. Being further asked, whe- ther he then appeared for them without any gra- tuity? They replied, that they had given him six thousand sesterces b , and afterwards presented him with a second fee of one thousand denarii . Upon which, Nepos moved that Nominatus should be ordered to attend : and this is all that was done in the affair that day. But, unless I am greatly mistaken, * Of Vicenza, a city in the territories of Venice. fc About 481. of our money. c About 301. of our money. Jtfo THE LETTERS BOOK V. mistaken, the enquiry will not end there; for one may observe in several instances, that the slightest sparks have lighted up a long train of very unex- pected consequences. And now I have sufficiently raised your curiosity, I suppose to make you de- sirous I should inform you of the rest; unless, perhaps, you should choose to gratify it by com- ing to Rome, and had rather see than read the se- quel. Farewel. LETTER V. To MAXIM us. I AM deeply afflicted with the news I have re- ceived of the death of Fannius, not only as having lost in him a friend whose eloquence and polite manners I admired, but a guide also by whose judgment I was often directed ; as, indeed, he possessed a most penetrating genius, improved and enlightened by great experience. There are some circumstances attending 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 particu- larly regret, is, that he has left unfinished, a very noble work in which he was engaged. Not- withstanding his full employment at the bar, he had commenced a history of those persons who . OF PLINY. 2fil who were put to death or banished by Nero; and had completed three books. They are writ- ten with great elegance and precision ; the style is pure, and preserves a proper medium between the simple narrative and the historical : and as they were very favourably received by the pub- lic, he was the more desirous of being able to fi- nish the remainder. The hand of death is ever, in my opinion, too severe and too sudden, when it falls upon such as are employed in some im- mortal work. The sons of sensuality, who have no views beyond the present hour, terminate with each day the whole purpose of their existence; but those who look forward to posterity, and en- deavour to transmit their names with honour to future generations, by useful labours; to such, death is always immature, as it ever snatches .them from amidst some unfinished design. Fan- nius, long before his death, had a strong presen- timent of what has happened : he dreamed one night, that, as he was sitting in his study with his manuscript before^ 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 looked upon it as an intimation that he should not carry on this 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 THE LETTERS Boo K V. t which had cost him so many painful 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 employ- ed. Let us then, my friend, while yet we live, exert all our endeavours, that death, whenever it shall arrive, may find as little as possible to destroy. Farewel. LETTER VI. To APOLLINARIS. IHE kind -concern you expressed when you heard 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. I confess, * This was Pliny's principal seat, lying about one hundred and fifty miles from Rome, and in which he usually resided during the summer season. The reader will observe, therefore, that he considers it in a very different manner from that of Lau- rentinum, (his winter villa) both with respect to the situation and the house itself. Cluver, in his geography, has placed this villa a little above Tifernum Tiberinim, now called Citta di Castello, where our author built a temple at his own expence. fbis has given room to imagine* that, possibly, there may be yet some remaining traces of this house to be discovered in Tus- cany, near a town, which the Italians call Stintignano, in the neighbourhood of Ponte di San Stefano, about ten miles north of an episcopal city now called Borgo di San Sepulchro. If, after having traversed this noble villa, the reader should be cu- rious to know how Pliny disposed of his time, when he retired to it, he may turn to the 36th letter of the 9th book. * Plans per Felibien, p. 65. BOOK V. OF PLINY. S63 I confess, the atmosphere of that part of Tus- cany, which lies towards the coast, is thick and unwholesome : but my house is situated at a great distance from the sea, under one of the Appennine mountains, which, of all others, is most esteemed for the clearness of its air. But that you may be relieved from all apprehensions 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 read with as much pleasure as I shall relate. The winters are severe and cold, so that myrtles, olives, and trees of that kind which de- light in constant warmth, will not flourish here ; but it produces bay-trees 1 * in great perfection ; yet, 6 In the original it is launt$, which the ingenious Mr. Martyn, professor of botany in Cambridge, has given very strong rea- sons for believing is not the same tree with our laurel, but the bay-tree. " Our laurel (that author observes) was hardly known in Europe till the latter end of the l6th century ; about which time it seems to have been brought from Trebi- zond to Constantinople, and from thence into most parts of Europe. The laurel has no fine smell, which is a property ascribed to the taurds by Virgil in the second Eclogue : Et 'cos, o lauri, carpam, et te proximc, myrte, Sic positce, quoniam suaves miscctis odores. " And in the 6th ^Eneid ; Odoratum lauri nemus. " Nor is the laurel remarkable for crackling in the fire, of " Which there is abundant mention with regard to the laurvs. 44 These characters agree very well with the bay-tree, which " seems to be most certainly the laurus of the ancients ; and is, " at this time, frequent in the woods and hedges of Italy." Jfotes upon Georg. 1. v. 306. THE LETTERS BOOK V. yet, sometimes, though, indeed, not oftcner than in the neighbourhood of Rome, they are killed by the severity of the seasons. The summers are exceedingly temperate, and continually attended with refreshing breezes, which are seldom inter- rupted by high winds. If you were to come here and see the numbers of old men who have lived to be grand-fathers and great grand-fathers, and hear the stories they can entertain you with of their ancestors, you would fancy yourself born in some former age. The disposition of the coun- try is the most beautiful that can be imagined : figure to yourself an immense amphitheatre ; but such as the hand of nature could only form. Before you lies a vast extended plain, bounded by a range of mountains, whose summits are covered with lofty and venerable woods, which supply variety of game : from thence, as the mountains decline, they are adorned with under- woods. Intermixed with these, are little hills of so strong and fat a soil, that it would be difficult to find a single stone upon them ; their fertility is nothing inferior to the lowest grounds; and though their harvest, indeed, is somewhat later, their crops are as well matured. At the foot of these hills the eye is presented, wherever it turns, with one unbroken view of numberless vineyards, terminated by a border, as it were, of shrubs. From thence you have a prospect of the adjoin- BOOK V. OF PLINY. , S ing fields and meadows below. The soH of the former is so extremely stiftj and, upon the first ploughing, turns up in such vast clods, that it is necessary to go over it nine several times, with the largest oxen and the strongest ploughs, be- fore they can be thoroughly broken ; whilst the enamelled meadows produce trefoil, and other kinds of herbage, as fine and tender as if it were but just sprung up, being continually re- freshed by never-failing rills. But though the^ country abounds with great plenty of water, there are no marshes ; for, as it lies upon a rising ground, whatever water it receives without ab- sorbing, 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 its channel is so extremely low in summer, that it scarcely deserves the name of a river; towards the autumn, however, it begins again to renew its claim to that title. You could not be more agreeably entertained, than by taking a view of the face of this coun- try from the top of one of our neighbouring mountains : you would -suppose 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 VOL. I. S eye, THE LETTERS BOOK V. eye, which way soever it turns. My villa is so advantageously situated, that it commands a full view of all the country round ; yet you approach it by so insensible a rise, that you find yourself upon an eminence, without perceiving you ascended. Behind, but at a great distance, stands the Apennine mountains. In the calmest -days we are refreshed by the winds that blow from thence, but so spent, as it were, by the long tract of land they travel over, that they are entirely divested of all their strength and vio*. lence before they reach us. The exposition of the principal front of the house is full south, and seems to invite the afternoon sun in summer (but somewhat earlier in winter) into a spacious and well-proportioned portico, consisting of se- veral members, particularly a porch built in the ancient manner. In the front of the portico is a sort of terrace, embellished with various figures, and bounded with a box hedge, from whence you descend by an easy slope, adorned with the re- presentation of divers animals, in box, answering alternately to each other, into a lawn over- spread with the soft, I had almost said the liquid, Acanthus a : this is surrounded by a walk 11 Sir William Temple supposes the Acanthus of the ancients to be what we call Pericanthe. Modern botanists* term it gar- den lears-foot ; but Mr. Castel, in his observations upon this passage, * Sea Marlyn on Georg. 4. v. 12.'?. BOOK V. OF PLINY. 267 walk b enclosed with tonsile ever-greens, shaped into a variety of forms. Beyond it is the Ges- tatio, laid out in the form of a circus , orna- mented in the middle with box cut in number- less different figures, together with a plantation of shrubs, prevented by the sheers from shooting up too high : the whole is fenced in with a wall covered by box, rising by different ranges 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 several other meadows and fields interspersed with thickets. At the extremity of this portico stands a grand dining-room, which opens upon one end of the terrace ; as from the windows there is a very extensive prospect over the passage, with more probability, imagines, by its character here, that it resembles moss. See note, p. 274. h This walk is called in the original Ambulatio, as what I have ventured to translate a Terrace, is by Piiny termed Xystus. The Ambulatio seems to be what we properly call a walk ; the Gestatio was a place appropriated to the taking of exercise in their vehicles ; and the Xystus, in its original signification, ac- cording to the definition given by Vitruiius, was a large por- tico, wherein the athletic exercises were performed ; though it is plainly used in this place for an open walk, ornamented much in the manner of our old-fashioned parterres; but its being raised above the walks which lay in the front, seems to justify its being called a Terrace. c The Circus was a place set apart for the celebration of se- veral public games, particularly the chariot-race. Its form was generally oblong, having a wall quite round, with ranges ef seats for the convenience of spectators. SS 268 THE LETTERS BOOK V, the meadows up into the country, from whence you also have a view of the terrace, and such parts of the house which project forward, toge- ther with the woods inclosing the adjacent' hip- podrome d . Opposite almost to the centre of the portico, stands a square edifice, which encom- passes a small area, shaded by four plane-trees, in the midst of which a fountain rises, from whence the water, running over the edges of a marble bason, gently refreshes the surrounding plane- trees, and the verdure underneath them. This apartment consists of a bed-chamber, secured from every kind of noise, and which the light it- self cannot penetrate ; together with a common dining-room, which I use when I have none but intimate friends with me. A second portico looks upon this little area, and has the same prospect with the former I just now described. There is, besides, another room, which, being situated close to N the nearest plane-tree, enjoys a constant shade and verdure : its sides are in- crusted half-way with carved marble ; and from thence to the ceiling a foliage is painted with birds intermixed among the branches, which has an effect altogether as agreeable as that of the carving : at the basis of a little fountain, playing through several small pipes into a vase, produces a most d A part of the garden, so called. See note f , p. 271. BOOK V. OF PLINY. a most pleasing murmur. From a corner of this portico you enter into a very spacious chamber, opposite to the grand 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 nee both the eye and the ear ; for the water, . dashing from a great height, foams over the marble bason that receives it below. This room is extremely warm in winter, being much ex- posed to the sun ; and in a cloudy day, the heat of an adjoining stove very well supplies his absence. From hence you pass through a spacious and plea- sant undressing-room into the cold-bath-room, in which is a large gloomy bath : but if you are dis- posed to swim more at large, or in warmer water, in the middle of the area is a wide bason for that purpose, and near it a reservoir from whence you may be supplied with cold water to brace yourself again, if you should perceive you are too much relaxed bv the warm. Contiguous to the cold- / <~7 bath is another of a moderate degree of heat, which enjoys the kindly warmth of the sun, but not so intensely as that of the both- bath, which projects farther. This last consists of three di- visions, each of different degrees of heat: the two former lie entirely open to the sun ; the lat- ter, though not so much exposed to its rays, re- S 3 ceives 270 THE LETTERS BOOK V, ceives an equal share of its light. Over the un- dressing-room is built the tennis-court, which, by means of particular circles'", admits of differ- ent kinds of games. Not far from the baths, is the stair-case leading to the inclosed portico, after you have first passed through three apart- ments : one of these looks upon the little area with the four plane-trees round it; the other has a sight of the meadows ; and from the third you have a view of several vineyards : so that they have as many different prospects as expositions. At one end of the inclosed portico, and, indeed, taken off from it, is a chamber that looks upon the hippodrome, the vineyards, and the mountains; adjoining is a room which has a full exposure to the sun, especially in win- ter; and from whence runs an apartment that connects the hippodrome with the house : such is the form and aspect of the front. On the side, rises an inclosed summer-portico, which has not only a prospect of the vineyards, but seems almost contiguous to them. From the middle 8 " These circles were probably no other than particular ' marks made on the floor, the success of their play depend- ' ing on the ball's lighting in such a circle after it had been struck, which was the adversaries' business to prevent ; and the many sorts of exercises this roorn was made for, might be ' diversified by lines or circles on the walls or floor; like the game of tennis, which, though it takes up one entire room, may serve for several games of the like nature." Castel's Remarks on Tuscum, p. 110. BooKV. OF PLINY. middle of this portico, you enter a dining-room, cooled by the salutary breezes from the Apenniue valleys; from the windows in the back front, which are extremely large, there is a prospect of the vineyards ; as you have also another view of them from the folding-doors, through the sum- mer-portico. Along that side of this dining- room, where there are no windows, runs a pri- vate stair-case for the greater conveniency of serving at entertainments : at the farther end is a chamber from whence the eye is pleased with a view of the vineyards, and (what is not less agreeable) of the portico. Underneath this room is an inclosed portico, somewhat resembling a grotto, which, enjoying in the midst of the sum- mer heats its own natural coolness, neither ad- mits nor wants the refreshment of external breezes. After you have passed both these por T ticos, at the end of the dining-room stands a third, which, 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; each enjoying, by turns, both sun and shade. In the fr6nt of these agreeable buildings, lies a very spacious hippo- drome^ entirely open in the middle, by which mean { The Hippodromus, in its proper signification, was a place among the Grecians set apart for horse-racing and otber exer- R 4 cises 2/2 THE LETTERS BOOK V. / mean the eye, upon your first entrance, takes in its whole extent at one glance. It is encompass- ed on every side with plane-trees, covered with ivy*, so that while their heads flourish with their own foliage, their bodies enjoy a borrowed ver- dure ; and thus, the ivy twining round the trunk and branches, spreads from tree to tree, and con- nects them together. Between each plane-tree are planted box-trees, and behind these, bay-trees, which blend their shade \vith that of the planes. This plantation, forming a straight boundary on both sides of the hippodrome, bends at the far- ther end into a semi-circle, which being set round and sheltered with cypress-trees, varies the pros- pect, and casts a deeper gloom ; while the in- ward circular walks (for there are several) enjoy- ing an open exposure, are perfumed with roses, and correct, by a very pleasing contrast, the coolness cises of that kind. But it seems hrre 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. *" What the Hederae were, that Reserved a place in a garden, " (says Sir William Temple, in his Essay on Gardening) I can- " not guess, unless they had sorts of ivy unknown to x us." But it does not seem necessary to have recourse to that supposition ; for there are two sorts among us, which are very beautiful plants, the one called the silver-striped ivy, the other the yellow varie- gated ivy. The former, perhaps, is the palentts Hertdce* of Virgil ; which epithet some of the critics, not attending to the different kinds of ivy, have, injudiciously, changed for palantes. * Georg. 4. BOOK V. OF PLINY. coolness of the shade with the warmth of the sun. Having passed, through these several winding- alleys, you enter a straight walk h , which breaks out into a variety of others, divided by box hedges. In one place you have a little meactow ; in another the box is cut into a thousand different forms' ; sometimes into letters, expressing the name of the master ; sometimes that of the arti- ficer; whilst here and there little obelisks rise intermixed alternately with fruit-trees : when, on a sudden, in the midst of this elegant regularity, you are surprised with an imitation of the negli- gent beauties of rural nature : in the centre of which lies a spot surrounded with a knot of dwarf plane-trees' 1 . Beyond these is a walk planted with * Here seems to begin what we properly call the Garden, and is the only description of a Roman one, which has come down to us. Virgil, indeed, mentions that of his Corycian friends, but he only gives an account of the plants which that contented old man cultivated, without describing the form in which this little spot was laid out. 1 It is very remarkable, that this false taste in gardening, so justly rejected by modern improvements in that agreeable art, was introduced among the Romans at a time, when one should little expect to meet with any melegancies in the polite refine- ments of life. Slarius, the friend of Julius Caesar, and peculiar favourite of Augustus, (of whom there is still extant a letter to Cicero, greatly admired for the beauty of its sentiments and ex- pression) is said to have first taught his countrymen this mon- strous method of distorting nature, by cutting trees into regular forms. Columel. 1. 12. c. 44. k The plane-tree was much cultivated among the Romans, upon account of its extraordinary shade, and they used to nou- rish 274 THE LETTERS BOOK V. lyith the smooth and twining acanthus 1 , where the trees are also cut into a variety of names and shapes. At the upper end is an alcove of white marble, rish it with wine* instead of water, believing, (as. an ingenious author! observes) "This tree loved that liquor, as well as those " who used to drink under its shade." Virgil mentions it as ministrantem potafltibus umbras. Georg. 4-. It was a favourite tree, likewise, among the Grecians: efjt.01 yfotivs wios VTTO itXatlot.viti /3a0 Ka CTayas' ip/TiEo;//,; rov syyvfev fi^or indeed, the whole body of the senate conducted themselves in this affair with wonder- ful dignity : for even those who opposed the pe- tition of Varenus, when it was first brought be- fore the house) thought that, after it had been granted, it ought not to be reversed. While the question, indeed, was under debate, they justly supposed that every member was at liberty to give his sentiments ; but when once determined by the majority, they looked upon it to be then the common concern of each senator to support.* This was the general opinion of the whole house, Acilius Rufus only excepted, and seven or eight more who persevered in their former vote; in which small party, there were some whose occa- sional solemnity, or rather affectation of solem- nity, appeared extremely ridiculous. You will judge > from hence, what a warm battle we are likely to have, since this prelude, as I may call it, has occasioned so much contention. FareWel. LETTER XIV. To MAURICUS. IN compliance with your earnest invitation, I consent to make you a visit at your Formian villa, but upon condition that you put yourself to no inconvenience upon my account; a condition which 1 shall also strictly observe on my part. It THE LETTERS BOOK VI. is not the pleasures of your sea and your coast, it is your company, it is retirement, it is free- dom, that I desire to enjoy; otherwise I might as well remain in Rome ; far there is no medium worth accepting, between giving up one's time wholly to the disposal of others, or reserving it entirely in one's own power ; at least, for myself, I declare I can relish no mixtures of any kind. Farewel. LETTER XV. To ROMAN us. Ii BELIEVE you were not present at a very droll circumstance which lately happened : I was not, indeed, a witness to it myself; however, I had au early account of what passed. Passienus Paulus, an eminent Roman knight, and particularly con- spicuous for his literary abilities, has a genius for elegiac poetry ; a talent which runs in the fa- mily, for Propertius was his relation as well as his countryman. He was lately reciting a poem which opened thus : Priscus, -at thy Whereupon 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 a roar of laughter this occasioned. O The intellects of Priscus, you must know, are thought to be somewhat disordered ; however, as BOOK VI. OF PLINY. 533 as he enters into the common offices of life, is called to consultations, and publicly acts as a lawyer, this behaviour was the more remarkable and ridiculous ; and, in fact, Paulus was a good deal disconcerted by his friend's absurdity. You see it is necessary for those who are solicitous to recite their works in public, to take care that the audience, as well as the author, should be of sound intellects. Farewel. LETTER XVI. To TACITUS. YOUR request that I would send you an ac- count of my uncle's death, in order to transmit a more exact relation of it to posterity, merits my acknowledgments ; for, if the glorious circum- stances which occasioned this accident shall be celebrated by your pen, the manner of his exit will be rendered for ever illustrious. Notwith- standing he perished by a misfortune, which, as it involved at the same time a most beautiful country in ruins, and destroyed so many popu- lous cities, seems to promise him an everlasting remembrance; notwithstanding, he has himself composed many works which will descend to the latest times ; yet, I am persuaded, the men- tioning of him in your immortal writings, will greatly contribute to eternize his name. Happy I deem those to be, whom the gods have distin- guished with the abilities either of performing Y 3 such such actions as are worthy of being related, or of relating them in a manner worthy of heing read ; but doubly happy are they who are blessed with both these uncommon endowments : and in that number my uncle, as his own writings and your history will prove, may justly be ranked. It is with extreme willingness, therefore, I execute your commands and I should, indeed, have claimed the task if you had not enjoined it He was, at that time, with the fleet under his comr inand, at Misenum*. On the 24th of August, about one in the afternoon, my mother desirecl him to observe a cloud which appeared of a very unusual size and shape. He had just returned from enjoying the benefit of the sun, and after bathing in cold water, and taking a slight repast, was retired to his study : he immediately arose, and went out upon an eminence, from whence he might more distinctly view this very singular phenomenon. It was not at that distance dis- cernible from what mountain this cloud issued, but it was found afterwards to proceed from Ve- suvius'*. I cannot give you a more exact de- scription of its figure, than by resembling it to that of a pine-tree ; for, it shot up a great height in * In the gulph of Naples. fc About six miles distant from Naples. This dreadful erup- tion happened A. D. 79, in the first year of the emperor Titus. Martial ha,s a pretty epigram upon this subject, in which he gives us a view of Vesuvius, as it appeared before this terrible conflagration broke out, Hie BOOK VI. OF PLINY. 335 in the form of a tall trunk, \vhich spread at the top into a sort of branches ; occasioned, I suppose, either that the force of the internal vapour which impelled the cloud upwards, decreased in strength as it advanced, or that the cloud, being pressed back by its own weight, expanded itself in the manner I have mentioned : it appeared sometimes bright, and sometimes dark and spotted, as it was either more or less impregnated with earth and cinders. This uncommon appearance excited my uncle's philosophical curiosity to take a nearer view of it. He accordingly ordered a light vessel - to be prepared, and offered me the liberty, if I thought proper, to attend him. I rather chose to Hie cat pampineis viridis Vesuvius wnlris, Prrsserat hie madidos nobilis we a lacus. Ha>c Jiiga, quum Nisx colics, plus Bacchus amaiit ; Hue nuper Safyri monte dedire choros. Hitc Ventris sedcs, Lacedcemone gratior illi ; Hie locus Hercvleo nomine darus erat : Citncfajacentjianimis, fy tristi mersafaiilla ; AVc i-fllcnt vuperi hoc licuisse sibi. Lib. 4. Ep. 44. Here verdant vines o'erspread Vesuvio's sides ; The gen'rous grape here pour'd her purple tides. This Bacchus lov'd beyond his native scene ; Here dancing satyrs joy'd to trip the green. Far more, than Sparta this in Venus' grace ; And great Alcides once renown'd the place ; Now flaming embers spread dire waste around, And Gods regret that Gods can thus confound. It seems probable, that this was the first eruption of Mount Vt-buvius, at least of any consequence ; as jt is certain we have no particular accounts of any preceding one. Dio, indeed, and other ancient authors speak of a prior eruption ; but still they describe it as covered with trees and vineb, so that the foregoing must have been inconsiderable. Y4 THE LETTERS BOOK VI. to continue the employment in which I was en- gaged ; for, it happened, that he had given me a certain writing to copy c . As he was going out of the house with his tablets in his hand, he was met by the mariners belonging to the gallies sta- tioned at Retina, from which they had fled in the utmost terror ; for, that poi t being situated at the foot of Vesuvius, they had no other way to escape than by sea. They conjured him, there- fore, not to proceed and expose his life to immi- nent and inevitable danger. In compliance with their advice, he changed his original intention, and instead of gratifying his philosophical spirit, he resigned it to the more magnanimous princi- ple of aiding the distressed. With this view, he ordered the fleet immediately to put to sea, and went himself on board with an intention of as- sisting not only Retina, but the several other towns which stood thick upon that beautiful coast. ' Hastening to the place, therefore, from whence others fled with the utmost terror, he steered his direct course to the point of danger, and with so much calmness and presence of mind, as to be able to make and dictate his ob- servations c The manuscript and printed copies vary extremely from each other as to the reading of this passage. The conjecture ot' Cortes seems the most satisfactory, as it- comes nearest the most approved manuscripts, and best falls in with the context ; it is therefore adopted in the translation. BOOK VI. OF PLINY. 337 servations upon the appearance and progress of that dreadful scene. He was now so near the mountain, that the cinders, which grew thicker and hotter the more he advanced, fell into the ships, together with pumice-stones, and black pieces of burning rock : they were, likewise, in danger not only of being a-ground by the sudden retreat of the sea, but also from the vast frag- ments which rolled down from the mountains, and obstructed all the shore. Here he stopped, to consider whether he should return back ; to which the pilot advising him, " Fortune" said he, " befriends the brave ; steer to Pomponia- " mis" Pomponianus was then at Stabise d , se- parated by a gulf, which the sea, after several insensible windings, forms upon that shore. Pomponianus had already sent, his baggage on board ; for, though he was not at that time in actual danger, yet, being within the view of it, and, indeed, extremely near, he was determined, if it should in the least increase, to put to sea as soon as the wind should change. It was favour- able, however, for carrying my uncle to Pompo- nianus, whom he found in the greatest conster- nation : and embracing him with tenderness, he encouraged and exhorted him to keep up his spirits. The more to dissipate his fears, he or- dered d Now called Castel Mar di Stabia, in the gulf of Na- ples. 333 THE LETTERS BOOK dered his servants, with an air of unconcern, to carry him to the baths ; and, after having bath- ed, he sat down to supper with great, or at least (what is equally heroic) with all the appearance of cheerfulness. In the mean while, the fire from Vesuvius flamed forth from several parts of the mountain with great violence; which the darkness of the night contributed to render still more visible and dreadful. But my uncle, in order to calm the apprehensions of his friend, assured him it was only the conflagration of the villages, which the country people had aban- doned : after this, he retired to rest, and it is most certain, he was so little discomposed as to fall into a deep sleep ; for, being corpulent, and breathing hard, the attendants in the anticham- ber actually heard him snore. The court which led to his apartment being now almost filled with stones and ashes, it would have been im- possible for him, if he had continued there any longer, to have made his way out ; it was thought proper, therefore, to awaken him. He got up> and joined Pomponianus and the rest of the company, who had not been sufficiently unconcerned to think of going to bed. They consulted together whether it would be most prudent to trust to the houses, which now shook from side to side with frequent and violent con- cussions; or flee to the open fields, where the cal- cined BOOK VI. OF PLINY. 339 cined stones and cinders, though levigated in- deed, yet fell in large showers, and threatened them with instant destruction. In this distress, they resolved for the fields, as the less dangerous situation of the two ; 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 nap- kins ; and this was their whole defence against the storm of stones that fell around them. It was now day every where else, but there a deeper darkness prevailed than in the blackest night; which, however, was in some degree dissipated by torches and other lights of various kinds. They thought it expedient to go down farther upon the shore, in order* to observe if they might safely put out to sea ; but they found the waves still running extremely high and boisterous^ There my uncle, having drunk a draught or two of cold water, laid himself clown upon a sail-cloth which was spread for him ; when immediately the flames, preceded by a strong smell of sulphur, dispersed the rest of the company, and obliged him to rise. He raised himself up, with the as- sistance of two of his servants, and instantly fell down dead ; suffocated, I conjecture, by some gross and noxious vapour, as having always had weak lungs, and being frequently subject to a difficulty 340 THE LETTERS BOOK VI. difficulty of breathing. 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, exactly in the same posture in which he fell, and looking more like a man asleep than dead. During all this time, my mother and I, who were at Mise- num f But as this has no connexion with your history, so your enquiry went no farther than concerning my uncle's death : with that, there- fore, I will put an end to my letter. Suffer me only to add, that I have faithfully related to you what I was either an eye-witness of myself, or received immediately after the accident happen- ed, and before there \vas time to vary the truth. You will choose out of this narrative such cir- cumstances as shall be most suitable to your pur- pose ; for there is a great difference between writing a letter, and composing a history ; be- tween addressing a friend, and addressing the public. Farewel. LETTER XVII. To RESTITUTUS. I CANNOT forbear venting my displeasure be- fore you in a letter, since I have no opportunity of doing so in person, against a certain behaviour which gave me some offence in an assembly where I f See this account continued, Let. 20 of this Book. BOOK VI. OF PLINY. 341 I was lately present. The Company was enter- tained with a recital of a very finished perform- ance : but there were two -or three persons among the audience, men of great genius in their own, and a few of their friends' estimation, who sate like so many deaf and dumb mutes, without moving a lip or a hand, or once rising from their seats, even to shift their posture. But to what purpose, in the name of good sense, all this won- drous air of wisdom and solemnity, or rather, in- deed, (to give it its true appellation) of this fas- tidious gravity ? Is it not downright folly, or even madness, thus to lose a whole day merely to commit a piece of rudeness, and leave him an enemy, whom you visited as a. friend ? Is a man, conscious that he possesses a superior power of eloquence than the person whom he attends on such an occasion ? so much the rather ought he to guard against every appearance of envy, as a passion that always implies a mortifying sense of inferiority. But whatever a man's talent may be, whether greater, or equal, or less than his friend's, still it is his interest to give him the approbation he deserves : if greater, or equal ; because the higher his glory rises whom you equal or excel, the more considerable yours must necessarily be : if less; because if one of more exalted abilities does not meet with applause, neither possibly can you. For my own part, I respect and honour all who discover any degree of merit in the difficult and 34C THE LETTERS BOOK VL and laborious art of oratory ; for Eloquence is a high and haughty dame, who scorns to reside \vith those that despise her. But perhaps you are not of this opinion ! yet who more reveres this glorious talent, or is a more candid judge of it than yourself? In confidence of which, I have ventured t declare to you the late indigna- tion I felt, as not doubting you would have joined with me in the same sentiments. FareweL * LETTER XVIIL To SABINUS. I WILL endeavour, as you desire, to undertake the cause of the Firmiani 3 , though I have at pre- sent many affairs upon my hands ; for I should be extremely glad to oblige so illustrious a co- lony by my good offices, as well as to render you an acceptable service. How, indeed, can I refuse any thing to you, who profess to have sought my friendship as your support and ornament ; especi- ally when your request is on behalf of your coun- try ? For what can be more honourable than the entreaties of a patriot, or more efficacious than those of a friend ? You may engage for me, therefore, to your, or rather, as I should now call them, our friends the Firmiani. And though their own illustrious character did not persuade me that they deserve my care and patronage, yet I could * Inhabitants of a city in Italy called Firmo, in the marqui" ate of Ancona. BOOK VI. OF PLINY. 343 I could not but conceive a very high opinion of their merit, from seeing a man of your distin- guished virtues choose to reside among them. LETTER XIX. To NEPOS. ARE you informed that the price of lands is considerably risen ; especially of those which lie about Rome ? This sudden advance was occa- sioned by a practice which has been much com- plained of, and which drew from the senate, at the last assembly for the election of magistrates, a very laudable decree, whereby the candidates are pro- hibited! from giving the electors any treat, pre- sent, or money whatsoever. The two former of these abuses were practised with as little reserve as discretion ; the latter, though carried on with more secresy, was, however, equally notorious. Our friend Homulus, taking advantage of this favourable disposition of the senate, instead of delivering his sentiments upon the j^oint in de- bate, moved that the consuls should acquaint the emperor, that it was the unanimous desire of the house to have this abuse reformed, and address him to interpose his vigilance and authority for the removal of this grievance, as he already had of every other. The emperor was accordingly pleased to comply, and published an edict to re- strain those infamous largesses ; directing that no person shall be admitted as a. candidate who has 4 not 344 THE LETTERS BOOK VI. not a third part of his estate in land ; deeming it highly indecent, (as no doubt it is) that those who aspire to dignities in the state, should look upon Rome and Italy rather like travellers who are passing through it, than as their proper coun- try, and in which the principal part of their pos- sessions lay. This edict has occasioned a gene- ral struggle among those who aim at any office, to buy up every thing which they hear is to be sold ; by which means the value of lands is greatly increased. If, therefore, you are inclined to dis- pose of any part of your estate here, or of making purchases elsewhere, you have now a good op- portunity ; for, in order to buy in Italy, these candidates are obliged to sell their estates in the provinces, Farewel. LETTER XX. To CORNELIUS TAGITUS. T. HE letter which, in compliance with your re- quest, 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, the account in my former broke off: The! 1 my shocked soul recoils, my tongue shall telP. My uncle having left us, I continued the employ- ment which prevented my going with him, till it was |> Virg. Pitt's Translation. JBooK VI. OF PLINY. 345 was time to bathe ? After which I went to sup- per, and then fell into a short and unquiet sleep. There had been, during many days before, some shocks of an earthquake, which the less alarmed us as they are frequent in Campania ; but they were so particularly violent that night, that they not only shook every thing about us, but seem- ed, indeed, to threaten total destruction. My mother flew to my chamber, where she found me rising in order to awaken her. We went out into a small court belonging to the house, which sepa- rated the sea from the buildings. As I was at that time but eighteen years of age, I know not whether I should call my behaviour, in this peri- lous conjuncture, courage or rashness ; 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 ease. While we were in this situation, a friend of my uncle's, who was just come from Spain to pay him a visit, joined us, and observing me sitting by my mo- ther with a book in my hand, reproved her pati- ence, and my security : nevertheless, I still went on with my author. It was now morning, but the light was exceedingly faint and languid ; 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 VOL. I. Z to THE LETTERS BOOK VI. to leave the town. The people followed us in the utmost consternation, and (as to a mind distracted with terror, every suggestion seems more prudent than its own) pressed in great crowds about us in our way out. Being advanced at a conveni- ent distance from the houses, we stood still, in the midst of a most hazardous and tremendous 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 bursting with an igneous serpentine vapour, darted out a long train of lire, resembling flashes of lightning, but much larger. Upon this, our Spanish friend, whom I mentioned above, addressing himself to my mother and me, with great warmth and ear- nestness : " If your brother and your uncle" said he, " is 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 re- 'plied, while we were uncertain of his : upon which our BOOK VI. OF PLINY. 347 our friend left us, and withdrew from the danger with the utmost precipitation. Soon afterwards, the cloud seemed to descend, and cover the whole ocean; as, indeed, it entirely hid the island of Caprea c , and the promontory of Misenum. My mother conjured me to make my escape at any rate, which, as I was young, I might easily effect ; as for herself, she said, her age and cor- pulency rendered all attempts of that sort impos- sible : however, she would willingly meet death, if she could have the satisfaction of seeing that she was not the occasion of mine. But I abso- lutely refused to leave her, and taking her by the hand I led her on : she complied with great re- luctance, and not without many reproaches to herself for being the occasion of retarding my flight. The ashes now began to fall upon us, though in no great quantity. I turned my head, and observed behind us a thick smoke, which came rolling after us like a torrent. I proposed, while we had yet any light, to turn out of the high road, lest she should be pressed to death in the dark, by the crowd that followed us. We had scarcely stepped out of the path, when darkness overspread us, not like that of a cloudy night, or when there is no moon, but of a room when it is shut up, and all the lights extinct. Nothing, then, was to be heard but the shrieks of f An island near Naples, now called Capri, Z<2 THE LETTERS BOOK VI. of women, the screams of children, and the cries of men ; some calling for their children, others for their parents, others for their husbands, and only distinguishing each other by their voices ; 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 imagining that the last and eternal night was come, which was to destroy both the gods d and the world together. Among these there were some who augmented the real terrors by imaginary ones, and made the frighted multitude falsely believe that Misenum was actu- ally in flames. At length, a glimmering light appeared, which we imagined to be rather the forerunner of an approaching burst of flames, (as in fact it was) than the return of day; however, the lire 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 1 obliged every now and then to shake off, other- wise we should have been overwhelmed and buri- ed in the heap. I might boast, that during all this scene of horror, not a sigh, or expression of fear, escaped from me, had not my support been founded on that miserable, though strong con- solation, rf rrM. c, 1 T- 1-1 , 1 T1 ., t 1 ] 3 The Stoic and Epicurean philosophers held, that the world was to be destroyed by fire, and all things fall again into origi- nal chaos ; not excepting even the national gods themselves from the destruction of this general conflagration. 4 BOOK VI. OF PLIXY solation, that all mankind were involved in th? same calamity, and that I imagined I was pe- rishing with the world itself. At last, this terri- ble darkness was dissipated hy degrees, like a cloud or smoke ; the real day returned, and even the sun appeared, though very faintly, and as when an eclipse is coming -on. Every object that presented itself to our eyes (which were ex- tremely weakened) seemed changed, being co- vered with white ashes e , as with a deep snow. We returned to Misenum, where we refreshed ourselves as well as we could, and passed an anxi- ous night between hope and fear; though, in- deed, with a much larger share of the latter : for, the earth still continued to shake, while several enthusiastic persons ran wildly among the peo- ple, throwing out terrifying predictions, and mak- ing a kind of frantic sport of their own and their friends' wretched situation. However, my mother and I, notwithstanding the danger we had pass- ed, and that which still threatened us, had no in- tention of leaving Misenum, till we should receive some account of my uncle. And now, you will read this narrative without any view of inserting it in your history, of which * Mr. Addison, in his accouut of Mount Vesuvio, observes, that the air of the place is so very much impregnated with salt, petre, that one can scarce find a stone which has not the top white with it. Travels, 182. Z3 350 THE LETTERS BOOK VI. which it is by no means worthy ; and, indeed, you must impute it to your own request, if it should appear no|; to deserve even the trouble of a letter. Farewel. LETTER XXL To CAN INI us. THOUGH I am an admirer of the ancients, yet I am far from despising, as some affect, the genius of the moderns ; nor can I suppose that nature, in these latter ages, is so worn out, as to be inca- pable of any valuable production. On the con- trary, I have lately had the pleasure of hearing Verginius Romanus read to a few select friends, a comedy so happily formed in the spirit of the ancients, that it may hereafter be considered as a model. I know not whether the author is in the number of your acquaintance ; I am sure, at least, he ought to be, as he is greatly distinguish- ed by the probity of his manners, the elegance of his genius, and the variety of his compositions. He has written some very agreeable pieces of the burlesque kind in Iambics, with much delicacy, wit, and humour, and I will add, too, even elo- quence ; for every species of composition, which is perfect in its kind, may, with propriety be termed eloquent. He has also published some comedies after the manner of Menander, and other BOOK VI. OF PLINY. 3.51 other approved authors of that age, which deserve to be ranked with those of Plautus and Terence. He has now, for the first time, attempted the an- cient comedy f , but in such a manner as to shew he is a perfect master in this way. Strength and majesty, delicacy and softness, elegance and wit, are the distinguishing graces of this performance. He places virtuous characters in the most amiable point of view, and exposes vicious ones with the Avarmest indignation : whenever he makes use of feigned names, it is with great propriety, as he employs real ones with equal justness. In respect only to myself, I should say he has erred through an excess of friendship, if I did not know that fiction is the privilege of poets. In a word, I will insist upon his letting me have the copy, that I may send it to you for your perusal, or rather that you may get it by heart ; for I am well per- suaded, when you have once taken it up, you will not easily lay it down. Farewel. LETTER f With regard to th various changes and revolutions which the Grecian comedy had undergone, it was distinguished into three kinds, viz. the ancient, which was founded upon real facts, and persons pointed out by their proper names ; the middle, where the subject was real, but the names fictitious ; the new, wherein both the names and the action are imaginary. Of the Jirst model was Aristophanes ; upon whose general manner, it is probable, Romanus formed his comedy here mentioned ; but as he appears to have introduced both true and invented names in the drama in question, it seems to have been of the mixed kind. Z4 352 THE LETTERS BQOK VI, LETTER XXII. To TIRO. AN affair has lately been transacted here, which nearly concerns those who shall hereafter be ap- pointed governors of provinces, as well as every man who too incautiously trusts his friends. - Lustricus Bruttianus, having detected his lieute- nant, Montanus Atticinus, in several flagrant delin- quencies, accused him to the emperor. Atticinus, on the other hand, added to his guilt by institut- ing a groundless prosecution against the friend whose confidence he had abused. A hearing was appointed, and I was elected one of the assessors at his trial. Both parties pleaded their own cause, and in a summary way confined themselves strictly to the articles of the charge: a "method by much the shortest of discovering the truth. Bruttianus, as a proof of the unreserved confi- dence he had resposed in his friend, and that no- thing but absolute necessity could have extorted from him this complaint, produced his will, writ- ten by the hand of Atticinus. He then proceed- ed to open the charge, and clearly proved him guilty of the most infamous conduct. Atticinus, after some vain efforts to justify himself, with- drew ; but his defence appeared as weak as his accusation was wicked. It was proved, that he had bribed a slave belonging to the secretary of Bruttianus, BOOK VI. OF PUNY. . Bruttianus, and, by that means, got into his pos- session his register-book, which he erased, and then made this his villanous act the foundation of a charge against his friend. The emperor's conduct in this trial was extremely noble : with- out collecting the voices with respect to Brut- tianus, he proceeded immediately to take them pnly in relation to Atticinus, who was, accord- ingly, condemned to banishment. Bruttianus was acquitted not only with a very full and ho- nourable testimony of his integrity, but with the credit of having behaved in this affair with great firmness. And, indeed, after having vindicated his own character in few words, he supported his charge against Atticinus with much spirit ; and approved himself no less a man of fortitude than of honesty. I send you this account not only as a caution for your behaviour in the government you have obtained, and as a hint to depend upon yourself as much as possible, without relying too far upon your friends ; but that you may be as- sured, if you should happen to be imposed upon in the execution of your office, (which heaven avert) you will readily meet with justice here. However, that you may stand in no need of it, let me entreat you to exert the utmost circum- spection and vigilance ; for the satisfaction of being redressed, cannot compensate the mortifi- cation of having been deceived. Farewel. LETTER 354 THE LETTERS BOOK VI. LETTER XXIII. To TRIARIUS. I CONSENT to undertake the cause which you so earnestly recommend to me; but glorious and honourable as it may be, I will not be your counsel without a fee. Is it possible, you will say, that my friend Pliny should be so merce- nary ? It is, and I insist upon a reward which will do me more honour than the most disinte- rested patronage. I request you then, and, in- deed, I make it a previous condition, that Cremu- tius Ruso may be joined with me as counsel in this cause. This is a practice which I have fre- quently observed with respect to several distin- guished youths ; as I take infinite pleasure in presenting young men of merit to the bar, and introducing them to the notice of Fame. But if ever I owed this good office to any man, it is certainly to Ruso, not only upon account of his family, but his warm affection to me ; and it would afford me a very singular satisfaction to have an opportunity of seeing him draw the at- tention of the audience in the same court, and the same cause with myself. This I now ask as an obligation to me ; but, when he has pleaded in your cause, you will esteem it as a favour done to you: for, I will be answer- able that he shall acquit himself in a manner equal to your wishes, as well as to my hopes, and BOOK VI. OF PLINY. 355 and the importance of the trial. He is a youth of a most excellent disposition : and when once I shall have produced his merit to public observa- tion, we shall soon see him exert the same gene- rous office in bringing forward the talents of others ; as, indeed, no man, without the support and encouragement of friends, and having pro- per opportunities thrown in his way, is able to rise at once from obscurity, by the force of his own unassisted genius. LETTER XXIV. To MACER. How much does the fame of human actions de- pend upon the station of those who perform them ! The very same conduct shall be either greatly magnified, or entirely overlooked, as it happens to proceed from a person of conspicuous or obscure rank. I was sailing lately upon our lake a , with an old man of my acquaintance, who desired me to observe a villa situated upon its banks, which had a chamber hanging over 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 * The lake Larius. 356 THE LETTERS BOOK VI, would most sincerely give him her opinion whe- ther there was a possibility of its being cured. Accordingly, upon viewing the ulcer, she found there were no hopes, and, therefore, advised him to put an end to his life ; to which she not only encouraged him by her example, but was actu- ally the means of his death ; for, tying herself tq 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 less taken notice of than that famous one of Arria's b , is not because it was less remarkable, but because the person who performed it was of inferior rank. Farewel, LETTER XXV. To HISPANUS. You inform me, that Robustus, a Roman knight of great distinction, accompanied my friend At- tilius Scaurus as far as Ocriculum 3 , but has never been heard of since. In compliance, therefore, with your desire, I shall send for Scaurus, in or- der to see if he can give us any light in tracing him ; though I fear, indeed, it will be to no pur- pose. I suspect an accident of the same unac- countable kind has attended Robustus, as for- * merly happened to my townsman, Metilius Cris- pus. b See an account of her, B. 3, Let 1(5. * Now Otricoli, in Ombria, or the duchy of Spoleto, BOOK VI. OF PLINY. 357 pus. I procured a company for him in the army, and gave him, when he set out, 40,000 sesterces", for his equipage : but I never received any letter from him afterwards, or could learn what became of him. Whether he was murdered by his ser- vants, or together with them, is uncertain; how- ever, neither he nor they ever appeared more. I wish we may not find it thus with respect to Ro- bustus ; nevertheless, I will send for Scaurus. I cannot refuse this office either to your generous request, or the very laudable entreaties of that most excellent youth, his son, who discovers as much good sense in the method, as he does filial affection in the zeal of his enquiry : and may we have the same success in finding his father, as he has had in discovering the person that accompa- nied him. ! Farewel. / LETTER XXVI. To SERVJANUS. I AM extremely rejoiced to hear that you design your daughter for Fuscus Salinator, and congra- tulate you upon it. His family is Patrician 8 , and both his father and mother are persons of the most exalted merit. As for himself, he is studious, learned, and eloquent, arid with all the innocence b About ^.320. Some editions read jt 400,000 sesterces, which is about j.5,2l>0 of our money. Those families were ityled patrician, whnsq^anrestors had been members of the henatr, in the earliest times of the regal m consular government. 358 THE LETTERS BOOK VI. innocence of a child, unites the sprightliness of youth to the wisdom of age. I am not, believe me, deceived by my affection, when I give him this character; for though I love him beyond measure, (as his kind offices and regard to me well deserve) yet partiality has no share in my judgment ; on- the contrary, the stronger my af- fection for him is, the more rigorously I weigh his merit. I will venture, then, to assure you (and I speak it upon my own experience) you could not have wished for a more accomplished son-in-law. May he soon present you with a grandson, who shall be the exact copy of his fa- ther ! 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 ! Farewel. LETTER XXVII. To SEVERUS. I ou desire me to consider what turn you should give to your speech in honour of the emperor, upon your being appointed consul elect a . It is much easier, amidst that variety of topics which the * 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 Consoles designate, consuls elect. It was usual for them upon that occasion to compliment the em- peror, by whose appointment, after the dissolution of the re. publican government, they were chosen. BOOK VI. OF PLINY. 359 the virtues of this illustrious prince b abundantly supply, to find materials for encomium, than to select them. However, I will send you my opi- nion, or (what I rather choose) I will give them to you in person, after having laid before you the difficulties which occur to me. I am doubt- ful, 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, how far soever (as far certainly it would have been) from adulation, might yet bear the semblance of it. Not that I affected an uncom- mon spirit of freedom, but as well knowing the sentiments of our amiable prince, and being tho- roughly persuaded that the highest eulogy I could offer to him, would be to shew the world I was under no necessity of paying him any. When I reflected what unbounded praises had been heaped upon the very worst of his prede- cessors, nothing, I was persuaded, could more distinguish a prince of his real virtues, from those infamous emperors, than to address him in a dif- ferent 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 judg- ment, but inattention. Such was the method I then observed ; but I am sensible that the same measures are neither agreeable, nor, indeed, ex- pedient * Trajan. 360 THE LETTERS BOOK VL peclient to every man alike. Besides, the pro- priety of a certain mode of acting depends not only upon persons, but time and circumstances ; and as. the late enterprise of our illustrious prince affords materials for panegyric, no less just than recent and glorious, I doubt (as I said before) whether I should persuade you, in the present in- stance, to adopt the same plan as I did myself* In this, however, I am clear that it is proper to offer it to your consideration. Farewel. LETTER XXVIIL To QUADRATUS, I WAS not ignorant of the reason which prevented your coming into Campania to receive me. But, absent as you were, might I have judged by the vast quantity of provisions of all sorts, with which I was supplied by your orders, I should have imagined you had conveyed yourself hither with your whole magazine of good fare. I must own I was so arrant a clown, as to take all that was offered me ; however, it was in compliance with the solicitations of your people, and fearing you would chide both them and me x 'if I refused* But, for the future, if you will not observe some measure, / must. And accordingly I assured your servants, if 'ever they brought me such pro- fusion again, I would absolutely return the whole. You will tell me, I know,, that I should consider every BOOK VI. OF PLINY. every thing belonging to you, as mine. I am sensible that I ought; and, therefore, I would use them with the same moderation as my own. Farewel. LETTER XXIX. To QUADRATUS. ' AVID i us Quietus, whose affection, and (which I equally valued) whose approbation I had the happiness to enjoy, used frequently to cite this maxim, among many others of his friend Thra- sea's : That there are three sorts of causes which it becomes a man of honour to undertake ; those of our friends, those of persons who are destitute of any other advocate to plead their claim, and those which relate to public example. Why we should engage in the cause of our friends, re- quires no explanation ; but to defend the desti- tute, shews both a firm and humane heart ; as to rise in causes of the exemplary kind, is a proof of being actuated by a principle of patriotism ; nothing being of more consequence to society, than whether a good or an evil precedent pre- vails. To these causes I will add (perhaps in the spirit of ambition, however I will venture to add) those also of a public nature, which are ren- deied conspicuous by the splendid rank of the person arraigned ; for it is reasonable, no doubt, that the honour which is derived to the orator's own reputation, by appearing as an advocate in VOL. I. A a impeachments 362 THE LETTERS BOOK VI. impeachments of that kind, should sometimes en* ter iato his motives for vindicating the conduct of an illustrious client. These are the limits (since you require my sentiments) which I would: pre* scribe to a young man of your respectable sta- tion and modest virtues. For the rest, practice, I know, is generally deemed, and in fact is, the best master in the art of pleading: and I have seen many, who, with moderate parts, and no literature, have, by that single advantage, made a good figure. Never- theless, the observation of Pollio (or, at least, what I have been told was his) is certainly true, as I know by experience : " By being an able ad- " vocate," said he, " I obtained much practice; " as, on the other hand, much practice rendered " me a less able advocate." The reason is, that a talent for oratory, by being too repeatedly ex- ercised, sinks into a mere mechanical habit; and the frequent pleader, instead of a just confidence, is apt to fall into a careless reliance upon the strength of his powers. Nor is- the being accus- tomed to public speaking, a circumstance abso- lutely necessary, in order to acquire a reputation of eloquence : the great modesty of Isocrates, which, together with the weakness of his voice, prevented him from appearing at the bar, did not obstruct his attaining the character of a consum- mate orator. Let me farther recommend it to you, to read and BOOK VI. OF PLINY. and compose, and meditate much, that you- may always possess a fund of suitable matter, when you choose to appear as an advocate in the courts of justice ; and it never will be your choice, I am well-persuaded, but when it becomes you to act in that character ; a restriction which I have al- ways laid down to myself. I must confess, how- ever, that I h^ve been concerned in some causes, not so much from choice as necessity : but to comply with necessity, is, in some degree, to comply with reason. The fact is, I have occa- sionally been appointed counsel by the senate : however, -it was in causes which fell within Thra- sea's third rule, that is, of the exemplary kind. I was advocate for the province of Bcetica, against Baebius Massa; where the question being whe- ther the impeachment should be received, it passed in the affirmative. I appeared for them a second time, against Csecilius Classicus ; and the point in debate was, whether the provincial offi- cers, who acted under hjm in his proconsulship, should be deemed accomplices ? It was deter- mined they should ; and they were punished ac- cordingly. I was counsel against Marius Pris- cus, who, having been convicted of bribery, en- deavoured to take advantage of the lenity of the law in that case, the penalty of which was by no means adequate to his enormous guilt : but he was sentenced to banishment. I defended Julius Bassus in an affair in which he had acted impru- A a 2 dentlj% 36*4 THE LETTERS BOOK VI. dently, 'tis true, but not in the least with any ill intention : the matter was referred to the ordinary judges, and he was permitted, in the mean while, to retain his seat in the senate. I pleaded, like- wise, not long since, on behalf of Varenus, who petitioned for leave to produce witnesses also on his part ; which was granted him. And now I will only wish, that I may, for the future, be en- joined to plead such causes by authority, in which it would become me to appear by choice. Farewel. LETTER XXX. To FA BAT us. W E have the highest reason, most certainly, to celebrate your birth-day as our own, since the felicity of ours is derived from you, to whose kind attentions it is owing that we are gay here, and at our ease in Rome*. -Your Camilian villa in Campania b has suffered by the injuries of time, and is falling into decay ; however, the most va- luable parts of the building either remain entire, or are but slightly damaged, and I wait here to see it put into thorough repair. Though I flat- ter a There is great obscurity in the beginning of this letter, which none of the commentators have been able sufficiently to enlighten. The difficulty arises from its evidently referring to certain articles in a letter which Fabatus, the grandfather of Calphurnia, Pliny's wife, had written to him, the purport of which can only be guessed. k So called, because it formerly belonged to Camillas. BOOK VI. OF PLINY. 365 ter myself I have many friends, yet scarce any, I doubt, 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 inured to labour, who will not look upon the of- fice as mean, and can submit to a solitary life. The opinion you have of Rufus is suitable to a person who was distinguished by the friendship of your son ; but of what service he can be to us, upon the present occasion, I know not ; though I am well persuaded he will rejoice to have it j$* )iis power to render us any. Farewel. LETTER XXXI. To CORNELIAN us. 1 RECEIVED lately the most exquisite satisfac<> tion at Cen tern cellre 3 , (as it is now called) being summoned thither by Ca?sar k to attend a council. Could any thing, indeed, afford a higher gratifi- cation, than to behold the emperor exhibiting not only his affability, but his justice and his wisdom, even in retirement, Avhere those virtues are most observable ? Various were the matters brought in question before him, and which proved, in so many different instances, the eminent abilities of the * Supposed to be Cirita Vcccldt. * Trajan. Aa3 366 THE LETTERS BOOK VI. the judge. The affair of Claudius Ariston came on first. He is an Ephesian nobleman, of great mu- nificence and unambitious popularity ; whose vir- tues have rendered him obnoxious to a set of peo- ple 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 charge against Gal- lita, accused of adultry, was heard. Her hus- band, who is a military tribune, was upon the. point of offering himself as a candidate for certain honours at Rome ; but she had disgraced both him and herself by an intrigue with a centurian . The husband informed the consul's lieutenant, who wrote to the emperor concerning it. Cassar, hav- ing examined the proofs, broke the centurian, and sentenced him to banishment. It remained that some punishment 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 suspicion of connivance : for he continued to live with her even after he had commenced his prosecution, contenting himself, it should seem, with having removed his rival. But he was or- dered to proceed in the suit; and, though he complied c An officer in the Roman legions, somewhat resembling a captain in our companies. 1 BOOK VI. OF PLINY, 357 complied with great reluctance, it was necessary, nevertheless, that she should be condemned. Ac^- cordingly, she was sentenced to the punishment ordained by the J ulian law d . The emperor thought proper to specify, in his decree, the name and of- fice of the centurian, that it might appear he passed it in virtue of military discipline; lest it should be imagined he claimed a particular cog- nizance in every cause of the same nature. The third day was employed in examining an affair which had occasioned much and various specu* lation, relating to the will of Julius Tiro, part of which was plainly genuine, the other part, it was alledged, was forged. The persons accused of this fraud were Sempronius Senecio, a Roman knight, and Eurythmus, Caesar's freed-man and procwa- tor% The heirs, jointly petitioned the emperor, when he was in J)acia f , that he would reserve to himself the trial of this cause ; to which he con- sented. At his return frpm that expedition, he appointed a day for the hearing ; and when some qf the heirs, as in respect to Eurythmus, offered to withdraw the suit, the emperor nobly replied, " He is not Polycletus 1 ^ nor am I Nero." Jipw- ever, A This law was made by Augustus Cassar ; but it no where clearly appears what was the peculiar punishment it inflicted. ' An officer employed by the emperor to receive and regulate the public revenue in the provinces. ( Comprehending Transylvania, Moldavia, and Walachia. * Polycletus was a freed-man, and great favourite of Nero. Aa.4 368 THE LETTERS BOOK VI. ever, be indulged the petitioners with an adjourn- ment, and the time beiag 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 desist. Caesar delivered his opinion with great dignity and temper ; and, when the counsel on the. part of Senecio and Eurythmus said, that unless they were heard in defence of their clients, the latter would remain under the suspicion of guilt; " I am not concerned" replied the empe- ror, " what suspicions they may lie under, 'tis I " that am suspected ;" and then turning to us who were of the council, " Advise me" said he, " how to act in this matter, for you see they " complain that I do not give them leave to " withdraw their suit'' At length, by the ad- vice of the council, he ordered notice to be given to the heirs, that they should either go on with the cause, or each of them justify their reasons for withdrawing the charge ; otherwise, that he would pass sentence upon them as calumniators 11 . Thus you see in what honourable and important occupations h 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 stig- matized 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. BOOK VI. OF PLINY. 369 occupations we employed our time at Centum- cellee ; which, however, was diversified with amusements of the most agreeable kind. We were every day invited to Caesar's table, which, for so great a prince, was spread with much plainness and simplicity. There we were entertained either with interludes, or passed the night in the most pleasing conversation. When we took our leave of the emperor, he sent each of us presents ; so studious is he, upon all occasions, to indulge the benevolence of his heart ! As for myself, I was not only charmed with the dignity and wisdom of the judge, the honour done to his council, the ease and unreserved freedom of the conversation, but also with the agreeable situation of the place. This delightful villa is surrounded by the most verdant meadows, and commands a fine view of the sea, which flows into a spacious harbour in the form of an amphitheatre. The left-hand of this port is defended by exceeding strong works, and they are now actually employed in carrying on the same on the opposite side. An artificial island, which is rising in the mouth of the haven, will break the force of the waves, and afford a safe channel to ships on each side. In the con- struction of this wonderful instance of art, 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, and gra- 4 dually 370 THJE LETTERS BOOK VI, dually accumulating in the manner of a natural mound. It already lift? its rocky back above the ocean, while the waves which beat upon it, being tossed to an immense height, foam with a prodigious noise, and whiten all the sea around. To these stones are added large blocks, which, when the whole shall be completed, will give it the appearance of an island just emerged from the ocean ! This haven is to be called by the name of its great founder 1 , and will prove of in- finite benefit, by affording a very secure retreat to ships on that extensive and dangerous coast, Farewel. LETTER XXXII. To QuiNCTILIAN. 1 HOUGH your desires, I know, are extremely moderate, and the education which your daughter* has received, is suitable to your fortune, and that of Tutilius her grandfather ; yet, as she is going 1 Trajan. * This letter has been generally supposed to be addressed to the famous Quinctilian, author of that excellent treatise upon oratory, which is still extant. But there are very strong rea- sons to believe, that either there is some error in the title, or that it is addressed to another person of the same name. Quinc- tilian, in the opening of his sixth B. de Inst. Orat. takes occa- sion to mention his family, where he is lamenting to his friend Yictorius the loss of his eldest son, which had just then hap r pened. He takes notice, at the same time, of the deaths of his wife and younger son ; and, after some very pathetic reflections, closes the whole with this observation : Nos mi$eri, sicut facul* tatcs patrimonii nostri, ita hoc opus aliis paramus, aliis relinquc- BOOK VI. OF PLINY. 371 going to be married to a person of such distinc- tion as Nonius Celer, whose station requires a certain splendid mode of living, it will be neces- sary to consider the rank of her husband in her cloaths and equipage : circumstances, which tho' they do not augment real dignity, yet certainly adorn and grace it. But as I am sensible your revenue is not equal to the greatness of your mind, I claim to myself a part of your expence, and, like another father, present the young lady with fifty thousand sesterces' 3 . The sum should be larger, but that I am well persuaded the smallness of the present, is the only consideration that can prevail with your modesty not to refuse it. Fare- wel. LETTER XXXIII. To ROMANUS, 1 HROWj throw your tasks aside, the sovereign said 3 : : Thus, whether you are engaged in reading or writing mil.;. This preface may be considered, then, as the register of his family. But he does not give the least hint of a daughter, which seems difficult to be accounted for upon any other rea- son than that he never had one. For, if she was dead, it is highly natural to imagine he would have deplored the loss of her among that of the rest of his children. If she was living, how could he lament the necessity of leaving his patrimony to strangers? or if she was unworthy of his tenderness, why does he not complain of that unhappiness among his other misfor- tunes ? Vid. Traduct. da Quinct. par 1'Abbe Gedoyn, in the preface. b About 40&1. of our money. ' /En. 8. Pitt's Trans, the speech of Vulcan to his Cyclops, when he directs them to prepare arras for 372 THE LETTERS BOOK VI. wrking, away with your books and papers, and take up my divine oration, as those cyclops did the arms of tineas. Now tell me, could I intro- duce my speech to you with an air of more im- portance ? But, in good earnest, I put it into your hands as the best of my performances' 1 ; for it is myself only that I pretend to emulate. It Was spoken in defence of Accia Variola : and the dignity of the person interested, together with the singularity of the occasion, and the majesty of the tribunal, conspired to render it extremely re- markable. Figure to yourself a lady ennobled, not only by her birth but her marriage to a per- son of praetorian rank, disinherited by her father and suing for her patrimony in the centumviral court, within eleven days after this old man, seized with a fit of love at fourscore years of age, had introduced a mother-in-law to his daughter. Imagine the solemnity of a court of justice, com- posed of one hundred and eighty judges, (for that is the number of which it consisted) ; friends innumerable attending on both parties ; the benches infinitely thronged, and a wide circle of people encompassing the judges, at the same time that numbers pressed round the tribunal ; even the very galleries lined with men and women, hanging over with the greatest earnestness, (who, though 6 Sidonius Apollinaris says, that Pliny acquired more ho- nour by this speech, even than by his incomparable panegyric upon Trajan. BOOK VI. OF PLINY. 373 though they might see tolerably well, it was scarce possible for them to hear a word ;) repre- sent to yourself, in short, fathers, daughters, and mothers-in-law, all warmly interesting themselves in the event of this important trial. The opinions of the judges were divided, two of the courts be- ing for us, and two against us. It is somewhat remarkable, that the same question debated before the same judges, and pleaded by the same advo- cates, and at the same time, should happen to re- ceive so different a decision, that one would al- most imagine it was more than accident . How- ever, in the final event, the mother-in-law, who claimed under the will a sixth part of the inherit^ ance, lost her cause. Suberinus 1 ' was also exclud- ed his pretensions ; who, though he had been dis- inherited by his father, and had not dared to vin- dicate his own patrimony, had yet the singular assurance to claim the effects of his father-in- law. I have been thus particular in giving you a detail of trje circumstances which attended this cause, not only that my letter might inform you of what you could not learn by my speech ; but also f It should seem, by this passage, that the centumviral court (consisting of 140 judges) was divided into 4 classes, each class sitting in their juridical capacity, upon the bench, at the same time; and that when the question concerned the validity of a testamentary devise, if these classes were equally divided in opinion, the claimant, under the will, lost the legacy. a This Suberinus (the commentators suppose) was son to th* woman whom Accia's father had married in his old age. 374 .Trii: LETTERS BOOK VI. also (for I will honestly confess the artifice) in order to your reading it with more pleasure, by being thus introduced, as it were, into the audi- ence. Complicated as this pleading is, I do not despair of its recommending itself to you, as much as if it had the grace of brevity. The abundance of matter ; the just order in which it is arranged; the little narratives that are interspersed through- out; together with the several kinds of style which diversify the composition; will always give it an air of novelty. I will even venture to say to you (what I durst not to any one else) that a spirit of animated and sublime eloquence breaks out in many parts of it ; as in others it assumes the close and argumentative manner. I was frequently obliged to intermix dry computa- tions with the elevated and pathetic^ and to de- scend from the orator almost to the accountant ; so that you will sometimes imagine the scene was changed from the solemnity of the centumviral tribunal, to the familiarity of a private consulta- tion. I gave a loose to my indignation, my re- sentment, and my compassion; and, in steering through this illustrious cause; was governed by turns with every varying gust of the passions. In a word, my particular friends look upon this speech (and I will venture to repeat it again) as my best performance, esteeming it the Ctesiphon* of c An oration of Demosthenes in defence of Ctesiphon, es- teemed the best of that noble orator's speeches. BOOK VI. OF PLINY. 375 of my orations : whether with reason or not, ybtl will easily judge, who have them all so perfectly in your memory, as to be able, while you arc reading it to make the comparison, without the trouble of turning to my former speeches. Fare- wel. LETTER XXXIV. To MAXIM us. You were perfectly in the right to promise a combat of gladiators to our good friends the ci- tizens of Verona* ; not only as they have long distinguished you with their peculiar esteem and veneration, but as it was from that city you re- ceived the amiable object of your most tender af- fection, your late excellent wife. And since you ow r ed some honourable memorial or public re- presentation to her memory, what other spectacle could you have exhibited more proper to the oc- casion 1 "? Besides, you were so unanimously re- quested by the corporation, that to have refused, would have had the appearance rather of obsti- nacy 3 In the territories of the republic of Venice. . b It was an opinion which Unhappily prevailed in the anci- ent pagan world, thai the ghosts of the deceased were rendered propitious by human blood. This absurd and cruel notion gave rise to these barbarous gladiatorial combats, which, at first, were only exhibited at funeral obsequies, and none but crimi- nals were appointed to those mortal encounters. But, in pro- cess of time, they became part of the public entertainments, and persons were trained up to the sole purpose of these inhu- man shews. 376 THE LETTERS, &c. BOOK Vt nacy than firmness. The readiness with which you granted their petition, and the magnificent manner in which you executed the object of it, is much to your honour ; for a greatness of soul is seen in these smaller instances, as well as in mat* ters of higher moment. I am sorry the African panthers, which you had largely provided for this purpose, did not arrive time enough : but, though they were delayed by the tempestuous season, the obligation to you is equally the same, since it was not your fault that they w r ere not exhibited. Farewel. c The amphitheatre in which these shews were exhibited, is still to be seen in Verona, the inside whereof is the most entire of any ancient structure for the same purpose now existing. It is computed to have been sufficiently spacious to contain up- wards of three-and-twenty thousand spectators to sit commodi- ously. Vid. Wright's Travels. THE END OF VOLUME I. 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