Letters

Gaius Plinius Caecilius Secundus, or Pliny the Younger, was

born in 62 A.D. at Novum Comum, in the neighbourhood of Lake

Como, in the north of Italy. His family was honourable,

wealthy, and able, and his uncle, Pliny the Elder, was the

encyclopaedic student and author of the famous "Natural

History." On his father's death, young Pliny, a boy of nine,

was adopted by the elder Pliny, educated in literary studies

and as an advocate, and was a notable pleader before his

twentieth year. Through a succession of offices he rose to the

consulship in the year 100, and afterwards continued to hold

important appointments. He was twice married, but left no

children. The date of his death is unknown. The "Letters of

Pliny the Younger" are valuable as throwing light upon the

life of the Roman people; but they are also models of Latin

style, and have all the charm of their author's upright,

urbane, and tolerant character. His epistle to the Emperor

Trajan with regard to the Christians is of peculiar interest.

_To Cornelius Tacitus_

You will certainly laugh, and well may you laugh, when I tell you that

your old friend has turned sportsman, and has captured three magnificent

boars. "What," you say, "Pliny?" Yes, I myself, though without giving up

my much loved inactivity. While I sat at the nets, you might have found

me holding, not a spear, but my pen. I was resolved, if I returned with

my hands empty, at least to bring home my tablets full. This open-air

way of studying is not at all to be despised. The activity and the scene

stimulate the imagination; and there is something in the solemnity and

solitude of the woods, and in the expectant silence of the chase, that

greatly promotes meditation. I advise you whenever you hunt in future to

take your tablets with you as well as your basket and flask. You will

find that Minerva, as well as Diana, haunts these hills.

_To Minucius Fundanus_

When I consider how the days pass with us at Rome, I am surprised to

find that any single day taken by itself is spent reasonably enough, or

at least seems to be so, and yet when I add up many days together the

impression is quite otherwise. If you ask anyone what he has been doing

to-day, he will tell you perhaps that he has been attending the ceremony

of a youth's coming of age; he has assisted at a wedding, been present

at the hearing of a lawsuit, witnessed a will, or taken part in a

consultation. These occupations seem very necessary while one is engaged

in them; and yet, looking back at leisure upon the many hours we have

thus employed, we cannot but consider them mere frivolities. Looking

back especially on town life from a country retreat, one is inclined to

regret how much of life has been spent in these wretched trifles.

This reflection is one which often occurs to me at my place at

Laurentum, when I am immersed in studies or invigorating my bodily

health. In that peaceful home I neither hear nor say anything which

needs to be repented of. There is no one there who speaks evil of

anyone; and I have not to complain of any man, except sometimes of

myself when I am dissatisfied with my work. There I live undisturbed by

rumours, free from the vicissitudes of hope and fear, conversing only

with myself and my books. What a true and genuine life it is; what a

delightful and honest repose--surely more to be desired than the highest

employments. O sea and solitary shore, secret haunt of the Muses, with

how many noble thoughts have you inspired me! Do you then, my friend,

take the first opportunity of leaving the noisy town with all its empty

pursuits, and devote your days to study or leisure. For, as Attilius

well says, it is better to have nothing to do than to be doing of

nothing.

_To Septicius Clarus_

How did it happen, my friend, that you failed to keep your engagement to

dine with me? I shall expect you to repay me what I spent on the

festival--no small sum, I can assure you. I had prepared for each of us,

you must know, a lettuce, three snails, two eggs, and a barley cake

served with sweet wine and snow; the snow most certainly I shall charge

to your account, as it melted away. There were olives, beetroots,

gourds, onions, and a hundred other dainties. You would also have heard

a comedian, or the reading of a poem or a lute-player, or even if you

had liked, all three, such was my liberality. But luxurious delicacies

and Spanish dancing girls at some other house were more to your taste. I

shall have my revenge of you, depend upon it, but I won't say how.

Indeed, it was not kind thus to mortify your friend--I had almost said

yourself; for how delightfully we should have passed the evening in

jests and laughter, and in deeper talk! It is true you may dine at many

houses more sumptuously than at mine but nowhere will you find more

unconstrained gaiety, simplicity and freedom. Only make the experiment,

and if you do not ever afterwards prefer my table to any other, never

favour me with your company again.

_To Avitus_

It would be a long story, and of no great importance, if I were to tell

you by what accident I dined lately with a man who, in his own opinion,

entertained us with great splendour and economy, but in my opinion with

meanness combined with extravagance. He and a few of his guests enjoyed

some very excellent dishes indeed, but the fare placed before the rest

of the company was of the most inferior kind. There were three kinds of

wine in small bottles, but it was not intended that the guests should

take their choice at all. The best was for himself and for us; another

vintage was for his friends of a lower order--for you must know he

divides his friends into classes--and the third kind was for his own and

his guests freed-men. My neighbor noticed this, and asked me if I

approved of it. "Not at all," I said.

"What then," said he, "is your custom in entertaining?"

"Mine," said I, "is to offer the same fare to everybody. I invite my

friends to dinner without separating them into classes. Everyone who

comes to my table is equal, and even my freed-men are then my guests

just as much as anyone else."

He asked me if I did not find this very expensive. I assured him that it

was not so at all, and that the whole secret lay in drinking no better

wine myself that I gave to others. If a man is wise enough to moderate

his own luxury, he will not find it very expensive to entertain all his

visitors on equal terms. Restrain your own tastes if you would really

economise. This is a better way of saving expense than making these

insulting distinctions between guests.

It would be a pity if a man of your excellent disposition should be

imposed upon by the immoderate ostentation which prevails at some tables

under the guise of frugality. I tell you of this as an example of what

you ought to shun. Nothing is to be more avoided than this preposterous

association of extravagance and meanness--defects which are unpleasant

enough when found separately, but are particularly detestable when

combined.

_To Baebius Macer_

I am glad to hear that you are so great an admirer of my Uncle Pliny's

works as to wish to have a complete collection of them. You will wonder

how a man so much occupied as he was could find time to write so many

books, some of them upon very difficult subjects. You will be still more

surprised when you hear that for a considerable time he practised at the

bar, that he died in his fifty-sixth year, and that from the time of his

retirement from the bar to his death he was employed in some of the

highest offices of state, and in the immediate service of the emperors.

But he had a very quick intelligence, an incredible power of

application, and an unusual faculty of doing without sleep. In summer he

used to begin to work at midnight; in winter, generally at one in the

morning, or two at the latest, and often at midnight. But he would

often, without leaving his studies, refresh himself by a short sleep.

Before daybreak he used to wait upon the Emperor Vespasian, who also was

a night worker, and after that attended to his official duties. Having

taken a light meal at noon, after the custom of our ancestors, he would

in summer, if unoccupied, lie down in the sun, while a book was read to

him from which he made extracts and notes. Indeed he never read without

making extracts; he used to say that no book was so bad as not to teach

one at least something. After this reading he usually took a cold bath,

then a light refreshment, and went to sleep for a little while. Then, as

if beginning a new day, he resumed his studies until dinner, when a book

was again read to him, upon which he would make passing comments. I

remember once, when his reader had pronounced a word wrongly, someone at

the table made him repeat it again; upon which my uncle asked his friend

if he had not understood it. He admitted that the word was clear enough.

"Why did you stop him then?" asked my uncle; "we have lost more than ten

lines by this interruption of yours." Even so parsimonious was he of

every moment of time! In summer he always rose from dinner by daylight,

and in winter as soon as it was dark; this was an invariable law with

him.

Such was his life amidst the noise and bustle of the city; but when he

was in the country his whole time, without exception, was given to study

except when he bathed. And by this exception I mean only the time when

he was actually in the bath, for all the time when he was being rubbed

and dried he was read to, or was himself dictating. Again, when

travelling he gave his whole time to study; a secretary constantly

attended him with books and tablets, and in winter wore very warm gloves

so that the cold weather might not interrupt my uncle's work; and, for

the same reason, when in Rome, he was always carried in a chair. I

remember he once reproved me for going for a walk, saying that I might

have used the hours to greater advantage; for he thought all time was

lost which was not given to study. It was by this extraordinary

application that he found time to write so many volumes, besides a

hundred and sixty books of extracts which he left me, written on both

sides in an extremely small hand, so that their number might be reckoned

considerably greater.

_To Cornelius Tacitus_

I understand you wish to hear about the earthquake at Misenum. After my

uncle had left us on that day, I went on with my studies until it was

time to bathe; then I had supper and went to bed. But my sleep was

broken and disturbed. There had been many slight shocks, which were very

frequent in Campania, but on this night they were so violent that it

seemed as though everything must be overthrown. My mother ran into my

room, and we went out into a small court which separated our house from

the sea. I do not know whether to call it courage or rashness on my

part, as I was only eighteen years old; but I took up Livy and read and

made extracts from him. When morning came the light was faint and

sickly; the buildings around us were tottering to their fall, and there

was great and unavoidable danger in remaining where we were. We resolved

to leave the town. The people followed us in consternation, and pressed

in great crowds about us on our way out. Having gone a good distance

from the house, we stood still in the midst of a dreadful scene. The

carriages for which we had sent, though standing upon level ground, were

being thrown from side to side, and could not be kept still even when

supported by large stones. The sea appeared to roll back upon itself,

driven from its shores by the convulsive movements of the earth; a large

portion of the sea-bottom was uncovered, and many marine animals were

left exposed. Landward, a black and dreadful cloud was rolling down,

broken by great flashes of forked lightning, and divided by long trains

of flame which resembled lightning but were much larger.

Soon afterwards the clouds seemed to descend and cover the whole surface

of the ocean, hiding the island of Capri altogether and blotting out the

promontory of Misenum. My mother implored me earnestly to make my

escape, saying that her age and frame made it impossible for her to get

away, but that she would willingly meet her death if she could know that

she had not been the cause of mine. But I absolutely refused to forsake

her, and seizing her hand I led her on. The ashes now began to fall upon

us, though as yet in no great quantity. I looked back and saw behind us

a dense cloud which came rolling after us like a torrent. I proposed

that while we still had life we should turn out of the high road, lest

she should be trampled to death in the dark by the crowd.

We had scarcely sat down when darkness closed in upon us, not like the

darkness of a moonless night, or of a night obscured by clouds, but the

darkness of a closed room where all the lights have been put out. We

heard the shrieks of women, the cries of children, and the shouts of

men; some were calling for their children, others for their parents,

others for their husbands or wives, and recognising one another through

the darkness by their voices. Some were calling for death through very

fear of death; others raised their hands to the gods; but most imagined

that the last eternal night had come, and that the gods and the world

were being destroyed together. Among these were some who added imaginary

terrors to the real danger, and persuaded the terror-stricken multitude

that Misenum was in flames. At last a glimmer of light appeared which we

imagined to be a sign of approaching flames, as in truth it was; but the

fire fell at a considerable distance from us, and again we were immersed

in darkness. A heavy shower of ashes now rained upon us, so that we were

obliged from time to time to shake them off, or we should have been

crushed and buried in the heap. I might congratulate myself that during

all this horror not a sigh or expression of fear escaped me, if it had

not been that I then believed myself to be perishing with the world

itself, and that all mankind were involved in the same calamity--a

miserable consolation indeed, but a powerful one.

At last this dreadful darkness was dissipated by degrees like a cloud of

smoke; real day returned, and even the sun appeared, though very faintly

as he appears during an eclipse. Everything before our trembling eyes

was changed, being covered over with white ashes as with deep snow. We

returned to Misenum, where we refreshed ourselves as well as we could

and passed an anxious night between hope and fear. There was more fear

than hope, however; for the earthquake still continued and many crazy

people were running about predicting awful horrors.

You must read my story without any view of writing about it in your

history, of which it is quite unworthy; indeed, my only excuse for

writing it in a letter is that you have asked for it.

_To Calpurnia, His Wife_

It is incredible how impatiently I wish for your return, such is the

tenderness of my love for you, and so unaccustomed are we to separation.

I lie awake great part of the nights thinking of you; and in the day my

feet carry me of their own accord to your room at the hours when I used

to see you, but not finding you there I go away as sorrowful and

disappointed as an excluded lover. The only time when I am free from

this distress is when I am in the forum busy with the lawsuits of my

friends. You may judge how wretched my life is when I find my repose

only in labour and my consolation in miseries and cares.

_To Germinius_

You must very well know the kind of people who, though themselves slaves

to every passion, are mightily indignant at the vices of others, and

most severe against those whom they most closely resemble. Surely

leniency is the most becoming of all virtues, even in persons who have

least need of anyone's indulgence. The highest of all characters, in my

estimation, is that of a man who is as ready to pardon human errors as

though he were every day himself guilty of them, and who yet abstains

from faults as though he never forgave them. Let us observe this rule,

both in our public and in our private relations--to be inexorable to

ourselves, but to treat the rest of the world with tenderness, including

even those who forgive only themselves. Let us always remember the

saying of that most humane and therefore very great Thrasea: "He who

hates vices, hates mankind."

Perhaps you will ask who it is that has moved me to these reflections?

There was a certain person lately--But I will tell you of that when we

meet. No; on second thoughts I will not tell you even then, lest by

condemning him and exposing his conduct I should be violating the

principle which I have just condemned. So, whoever he is, and whatever

he may be, the matter shall remain unspoken; since to expose him would

be of no advantage for the purpose of example; but to hide his fault

will be of great advantage to good nature.

_To the Emperor Trajan_

It is my rule, to refer to you all matters about which I have any doubt.

For who can be more capable of removing my scruples or of instructing my

ignorance?

I have never been present at any trials of Christians, and am,

therefore, ignorant of the reasons for which punishment is inflicted, as

well as of the examinations which it is proper to make of their guilt.

As to whether any difference is usually made with respect to the ages of

the guilty, or whether no distinction is to be observed between the

young and the old; whether repentance entitles them to a pardon, or

whether it is of no advantage to a man who has once been a Christian

that he has ceased to be one; whether the very profession of

Christianity unattended by any criminal act, or only the crimes that are

inherent in the profession are punishable--in all these points I am very

doubtful.

In the meantime, the method which I have observed towards those who have

been brought before me as Christians is this. I have interrogated them

as to whether they were Christians; if they confessed I repeated the

question twice again, adding threats at the same time; and if they still

persevered I ordered them to execution. For I was persuaded that

whatever the nature of their opinions might be, their pertinacity and

inflexible obstinacy ought certainly to be punished. Others also were

brought before me possessed by the same madness, but as they were Roman

citizens I ordered them to be sent to Rome. As this crime spread while

it was actually under prosecution, many fresh cases were brought up. An

anonymous paper was given me containing a charge against many persons.

Those who denied that they were Christians, or that they had ever been

so, repeated after me an invocation to the gods, offered wine and

incense before your statue, which for this purpose I had ordered to be

placed among the statues of the gods, and even reviled the name of

Christ; and so, as it is impossible to force those who are really

Christians to do any of these things, I thought it proper to dismiss

them. Others who had been accused confessed themselves at first to be

Christians, but immediately afterwards denied it; and others owned that

they had formerly been of that number, but had now forsaken their error.

All these worshipped your statue and the images of the gods, at the same

time reviling the name of Christ.

They affirmed that the whole of their guilt, or their error, had been as

follows. They met on a stated day before sunrise and addressed a form of

invocation to Christ as to a God; they also bound themselves by an oath,

not for any wicked purpose but never to commit thefts, robberies, or

adulteries, never to break their word, nor to deny a trust when they

should be called upon to deliver it up. After this had been done they

used to separate, and then reassemble to partake in common of an

innocent meal. They had desisted, however, from this custom, after the

publication of my edict, by which, in accordance with your orders, I had

forbidden fraternities to exist. Having received this account I thought

it all the more necessary to make sure of the real truth by putting two

slave-girls, who were said to have taken part in their religious

functions, to the torture; but I could discover nothing more than an

absurd and extravagant superstition.

I have, therefore, adjourned all further proceedings in the affair in

order to consult with you. It appears to be a matter highly deserving

your consideration, especially as very many persons are involved in the

danger of these prosecutions; for the inquiry has already extended and

is likely further to extend to persons of all ranks and ages, and of

both sexes. This contagious superstition is not confined to the cities

only, but has spread its infection among the villages and country

districts as well; and it seems impossible to cure this evil or to

restrain its progress. It is true that the temples which were once

almost deserted have lately been frequented, and that the religious

rites which had been interrupted are again revived; and there is a

general demand for animals for sacrificial victims, which for some time

past have met with few purchasers. From all this it is easy to imagine

what numbers might be reclaimed from this error if pardon were granted

to those who may repent of it.

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