_He apologizes to Maecenas for his long absence from Rome; and
acknowledges his favors to him in such a manner as to declare liberty
preferable to all other blessings_.
Having promised you that I would be in the country but five days, false
to my word, I am absent the whole of August. But, if you would have me
live sound and in perfect health, the indulgence which you grant me,
Maecenas, when I am ill, you will grant me [also] when I am afraid of
being ill: while [the time of] the first figs, and the [autumnal] heat
graces the undertaker with his black attendants; while every father and
mother turn pale with fear for their children; and while over-acted
diligence, and attendance at the forum, bring on fevers and unseal
wills. But, if the winter shall scatter snow upon the Alban fields, your
poet will go down to the seaside, and be careful of himself, and read
bundled up; you, dear friend, he will revisit with the zephyrs, if you
will give him leave, and with the first swallow.
You have made me rich, not in the manner in which the Calabrian host
bids [his guest] eat of his pears. "Eat, pray, sir." "I have had
enough." "But take away with you what quantity you will." "You are very
kind." "You will carry them no disagreeable presents to your little
children." "I am as much obliged by your offer, as if I were sent away
loaded." "As you please: you leave them to be devoured to-day by the
hogs." The prodigal and fool gives away what he despises and hates; the
reaping of favors like these has produced, and ever will produce,
ungrateful men. A good and wise man professes himself ready to do
kindness to the deserving; and yet is not ignorant, how true coins
differ from lupines. I will also show myself deserving of the honor of
being grateful. But if you would not have me depart any whither, you
must restore my vigorous constitution, the black locks [that grew] on my
narrow forehead: you must restore to me the power of talking pleasantly:
you must restore to me the art of laughing with becoming ease, and
whining over my liquor at the jilting of the wanton Cynara.
A thin field-mouse had by chance crept through a narrow cranny into a
chest of grain; and, having feasted itself, in vain attempted to come
out again, with its body now stuffed full. To which a weasel at a
distance cries, "If you would escape thence, repair lean to the narrow
hole which you entered lean." If I be addressed with this similitude, I
resign all; neither do I, sated with delicacies, cry up the calm repose
of the vulgar, nor would I change my liberty and ease for the riches of
the Arabians. You have often commended me for being modest; when present
you heard [from me the appellations of] king and father, nor am I a word
more sparing in your absence. Try whether I can cheerfully restore what
you have given me. Not amiss [answered] Telemachus, son of the patient
Ulysses: "The country of Ithaca is not proper for horses, as being
neither extended into champaign fields, nor abounding with much grass:
Atrides, I will leave behind me your gifts, [which are] more proper for
yourself." Small things best suit the small. No longer does imperial
Rome please me, but unfrequented Tibur, and unwarlike Tarentum.
Philip, active and strong, and famed for pleading causes, while
returning from his employment about the eighth hour, and now of a great
age, complaining that the Carinae were too far distant from the forum;
spied, as they say, a person clean shaven in a barber's empty shed,
composedly paring his own nails with a knife. "Demetrius," [says he,]
(this slave dexterously received his master's orders,) "go inquire, and
bring me word from what house, who he is, of what fortune, who is his
father, or who is his patron." He goes, returns, and relates, that "he
is by name, Vulteius Maena, an auctioneer, of small fortune, of a
character perfectly unexceptionable, that he could upon occasion ply
busily, and take his ease, and get, and spend; delighting in humble
companions and a settled dwelling, and (after business ended) in the
shows, and the Campus Martius."
"I would inquire of him himself all this, which you report; bid him come
to sup with me." Maena can not believe it; he wonders silently within
himself. Why many words? He answers, "It is kind." "Can he deny me?"
"The rascal denies, and disregards or dreads you." In the morning Philip
comes unawares upon Vulteius, as he is selling brokery-goods to the
tunic'd populace, and salutes him first. He pleads to Philip his
employment, and the confinement of his business, in excuse for not
having waited upon him in the morning; and afterward, for not seeing him
first. "Expect that I will excuse you on this condition, that you sup
with me to-day." "As you please." "Then you will come after the ninth
hour: now go: strenuously increase your stock." When they were come to
supper, having discoursed of things of a public and private nature, at
length he is dismissed to go to sleep. When he had often been seen, to
repair like a fish to the concealed hook, in the morning a client, and
now as a constant guest; he is desired to accompany [Philip] to his
country-seat near the city, at the proclaiming of the Latin festivals.
Mounted on horseback, he ceases not to cry up the Sabine fields and air.
Philip sees it, and smiles: and, while he is seeking amusement and
diversion for himself out of every thing, while he makes him a present
of seven thousand sesterces, and promises to lend him seven thousand
more: he persuades him to purchase a farm: he purchases one. That I may
not detain you with a long story beyond what is necessary, from a smart
cit he becomes a downright rustic, and prates of nothing but furrows and
vineyards; prepares his elms; is ready to die with eager diligence, and
grows old through a passionate desire of possessing. But when his sheep
were lost by theft, his goats by distemper, his harvest deceived his
hopes, his ox was killed with plowing; fretted with these losses, at
midnight he snatches his nag, and in a passion makes his way to Philip's
house. Whom as soon as Philip beheld, rough and unshaven, "Vulteius,"
said he, "you seem to me to be too laborious and earnest." "In truth,
patron," replied he, "you would call me a wretch, if you would apply to
me my true name. I beseech and conjure you then, by your genius and your
right hand and your household gods, restore me to my former life." As
soon as a man perceives, how much the things he has discarded excel
those which he pursues, let him return in time, and resume those which
he relinquished.
It is a truth, that every one ought to measure himself by his own proper
foot and standard.
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