statue to Vestricius Spurinna: not as they would to many others, who
never were in action, or saw a camp, or heard the sound of a trumpet,
unless at a show; but as it would be decreed to those who have justly
bought such a distinction with their blood, their exertions, and their
deeds. Spurinna forcibly restored the king of the Bructeri[35] to his
throne; and this by the noblest kind of victory; for he subdued that
warlike people by the terror of the mere display of his preparation for
the campaign. This is his reward as a hero, while, to console him for
the loss of his son Cottius, who died during his absence upon that
expedition, they also voted a statue to the youth; a very unusual honour
for one so young; but the services of the father deserved that the pain
of so severe a wound should be soothed by no common balm. Indeed Cottius
himself evinced such remarkable promise of the highest qualities that it
is but fitting his short limited term of life should be extended, as it
were, by this kind of immortality. He was so pure and blameless, so full
of dignity, and commanded such respect, that he might have challenged in
moral goodness much older men, with whom he now shares equal honours.
Honours, if I am not mistaken, conferred not only to perpetuate the
memory of the deceased youth, and in consolation to the surviving
father, but for the sake of public example also. This will rouse and
stimulate our young men to cultivate every worthy principle, when they
see such rewards bestowed upon one of their own years, provided he
deserve them: at the same time that men of quality will be encouraged to
beget children and to have the joy and satisfaction of leaving a worthy
race behind, if their children survive them, or of so glorious a
consolation, should they survive their children. Looking at it in this
light then, I am glad, upon public grounds, that a statue is decreed
Cottius: and for my own sake too, just as much; for I loved this most
favoured, gifted, youth, as ardently as I now grievously miss him
amongst us. So that it will be a great satisfaction to me to be able to
look at this figure from time to time as I pass by, contemplate it,
stand underneath, and walk to and fro before it. For if having the
pictures of the departed placed in our homes lightens sorrow, how much
more those public representations of them which are not only memorials
of their air and countenance, but of their glory and honour besides?
Farewell.
XXI To PAISCUS
As I know you eagerly embrace every opportunity of obliging me, so there
is no man whom I had rather be under an obligation to. I apply to you,
therefore, in preference to anyone else, for a favour which I am
extremely desirous of obtaining. You, who are commander-in-chief of a
very considerable army, have many opportunities of exercising your
generosity; and the length of time you have enjoyed that post must have
enabled you to provide for all your own friends. I hope you will now
turn your eyes upon some of mine: as indeed they are but a few Your
generous disposition, I know, would be better pleased if the number were
greater, but one or two will suffice my modest desires; at present I
will only mention Voconius Romanus. His father was of great distinction
among the Roman knights, and his father-in-law, or, I might more
properly call him, his second father, (for his affectionate treatment of
Voconius entitles him to that appellation) was still more conspicuous.
His mother was one of the most considerable ladies of Upper Spain: you
know what character the people of that province bear, and how remarkable
they are for their strictness of their manners. As for himself, he
lately held the post of flamen.[36] Now, from the time when we were
first students together, I have felt very tenderly attached to him. We
lived under the same roof, in town and country, we joked together, we
shared each other's serious thoughts: for where indeed could I have
found a truer friend or pleasanter companion than he? In his
conversation, and even in his very voice and countenance, there is a
rare sweetness; as at the bar he displays talents of a high order;
acuteness, elegance, ease, and skill: and he writes such letters too
that were you to read them you would imagine they had been dictated by
the Muses themselves. I have a very great affection for him, as he has
for me. Even in the earlier part of our lives, I warmly embraced every
opportunity of doing him all the good services which then lay in my
power, as I have lately obtained for him from our most gracious
prince[37] the privilege[38] granted to those who have three children: a
favour which, though Cæsar very rarely bestows, and always with great
caution, yet he conferred, at my request, in such a matter as to give it
the air and grace of being his own choice.
The best way of showing that I think he deserves the kindnesses he has
already received from me is by increasing them, especially as he always
accepts my services so gratefully as to deserve more. Thus I have shown
you what manner of man Romanus is, how thoroughly I have proved his
worth, and how much I love him. Let me entreat you to honour him with
your patronage in a way suitable to the generosity of your heart, and
the eminence of your station. But above all let him have your affection;
for though you were to confer upon him the utmost you have in your power
to bestow, you can give him nothing more valuable than your friendship-
That you may see he is worthy of it, even to the closest degree of
intimacy, I send you this brief sketch of his tastes, character, his
whole life, in fact. I should continue my intercessions in his behalf,
but that I know you prefer not being pressed, and I have already
repeated them in every line of this letter: for, to show a good reason
for what one asks is true intercession, and of the most effectual kind.
Farewell.
XXII -- To MAIMUS
You guessed correctly: I am much engaged in pleading before the Hundred.
The business there is more fatiguing than pleasant. Trifling,
inconsiderable cases, mostly; it is very seldom that anything worth
speaking of, either from the importance of the question or the rank of
the persons concerned, comes before them. There are very few lawyers
either whom I take any pleasure in working with. The rest, a parcel of
impudent young fellows, many of whom one knows nothing whatever about,
come here to get some practice in speaking, and conduct themselves so
forwardly and with such utter want of deference that my friend Attilius
exactly hit it, I think, when he made the observation that "boys set out
at the bar with cases in the Court of the Hundred as they do at school
with Homer," intimating that at both places they begin where they should
end. But in former times (so my elders tell me) no youth, even of the
best families, was allowed in unless introduced by some person of
consular dignity. As things are now, since every fence of modesty and
decorum is broken down, and all distinctions are levelled and
confounded, the present young generation, so far from waiting to be
introduced, break in of their own free will. The audience at their heels
are fit attendants upon such orators; a low rabble of hired mercenaries,
supplied by contract. They get together in the middle of the court,
where the dole is dealt round to them as openly as if they were in a
dining-room: and at this noble price they run from court to court. The
Greeks have an appropriate name in their language for this sort of
people, importing that they are applauders by profession, and we
stigmatize them with the opprobrious title of table-flatterers: yet the
dirty business alluded to increases every day. It was only yesterday two
of my domestic officers, mere striplings, were hired to cheer somebody
or other, at three denarii apiece:[39] that is what the highest
eloquence goes for. Upon these terms we fill as many benches as we
please, and gather a crowd; this is how those rending shouts are raised,
as soon as the individual standing up in the middle of the ring gives
the signal. For, you must know, these honest fellows, who understand
nothing of what is said, or, if they did, could not hear it, would be at
a loss without a signal, how to time their applause: for many of them
don't hear a syllable, and are as noisy as any of the rest. If, at any
time, you should happen to be passing by when the court is sitting, and
feel at all interested to know how any speaker is acquitting himself,
you have no occasion to give yourself the trouble of getting up on the
judge's platform, no need to listen; it is easy enough to find out, for
you may be quite sure he that gets most applause deserves it the least.
Largius Licinus was the first to introduce this fashion; but then he
went no farther than to go round and solicit an audience. I know, I
remember hearing this from my tutor Quinctilian. "I used," he told me,
"to go and hear Domitius Afer, and as he was pleading once before the
Hundred in his usual slow and impressive manner, hearing, close to him,
a most immoderate and unusual noise, and being a good deal surprised at
this, he left off: the noise ceased, and he began again: he was
interrupted a second time, and a third. At last he enquired who it was
that was speaking? He was told, Licinus. Upon which, he broke off the
case, exclaiming, 'Eloquence is no more!'" The truth is it had only
begun to decline then, when in Afer's opinion it no longer existed --
whereas now it is almost extinct. I am ashamed to tell you of the
mincing and affected pronunciation of the speakers, and of the shrill-
voiced applause with which their effusions are received; nothing seems
wanting to complete this sing-song performance except claps, or rather
cymbals and tambourines. Howlings indeed (for I can call such applause,
which would be indecent even in the theatre, by no other name) abound in
plenty. Up to this time the interest of my friends and the consideration
of my early time of life have kept me in this court, as I am afraid they
might think I was doing it to shirk work rather than to avoid these
indecencies, were I to leave it just yet: however, I go there less
frequently than I did, and am thus effecting a gradual retreat.
Farewell.
XXIII -- To GALLUS
You are surprised that I am so fond of my Laurentine, or (if you prefer
the name) my Laurens: but you will cease to wonder when I acquaint you
with the beauty of the villa, the advantages of its situation, and the
extensive view of the sea-coast. It is only seventeen miles from Rome:
so that when I have finished my business in town, I can pass my evenings
here after a good satisfactory day's work. There are two different roads
to it: if you go by that of Laurentum, you must turn off at the
fourteenth mile-stone; if by Astia, at the eleventh. Both of them are
sandy in places, which makes it a little heavier and longer by carriage,
but short and easy on horseback. The landscape affords plenty of
variety, the view in some places being closed in by woods, in others
extending over broad meadows, where numerous flocks of sheep and herds
of cattle, which the severity of the winter has driven from the
mountains, fatten in the spring warmth, and on the rich pasturage. My
villa is of a convenient size without being expensive to keep up. The
courtyard in front is plain, but not mean, through which you enter
porticoes shaped into the form of the letter D, enclosing a small but
cheerful area between. These make a capital retreat for bad weather, not
only as they are shut in with windows, but particularly as they are
sheltered by a projection of the roof. From the middle of these
porticoes you pass into a bright pleasant inner court, and out of that
into a handsome hall running out towards the sea-shore; so that when
there is a south-west breeze, it is gently washed with the waves, which
spend themselves at its base. On every side of this hall there are
either folding-doors or windows equally large, by which means you have a
view from the front and the two sides of three different seas, as it
were: from the back you see the middle court, the portico, and the area;
and from another point you look through the portico into the courtyard,
and out upon the woods and distant mountains beyond. On the left hand of
this hall, a little farther from the sea, lies a large drawing-room, and
beyond that, a second of a smaller size, which has one window to the
rising and another to the setting sun: this as well has a view of the
sea, but more distant and agreeable. The angle formed by the projection
of the dining-room with this drawing-room retains and intensifies the
warmth of the sun, and this forms our winter quarters and family
gymnasium, which is sheltered from all the winds except those which
bring on clouds, but the clear sky comes out again before the warmth has
gone out of the place. Adjoining this angle is a room forming the
segment of a circle, the windows of which are so arranged as to get the
sun all through the day: in the walls are contrived a sort of cases,
containing a collection of authors who can never be read too often. Next
to this is a bed-room, connected with it by a raised passage furnished
with pipes, which supply, at a wholesome temperature, and distribute to
all parts of this room, the heat they receive. The rest of this side of
the house is appropriated to the use of my slaves and freedmen; but most
of the rooms in it are respectable enough to put my guests into. In the
opposite wing is a most elegant, tastefully fitted up bed-room; next to
which lies another, which you may call either a large bed-room or a
modified dining-room; it is very warm and light, not only from the
direct rays of the sun, but by their reflection from the sea. Beyond
this is a bed-room with an ante-room, the height of which renders it
cool in summer, its thick walls warm in winter, for it is sheltered,
every way from the winds. To this apartment another anteroom is joined
by one common wall. From thence you enter into the wide and spacious
cooling-room belonging to the bath, from the opposite walls of which two
curved basins are thrown out, so to speak; which are more than large
enough if you consider that the sea is close at hand. Adjacent to this
is the anointing-room, then the sweating-room, and beyond that the bath-
heating room: adjoining are two other little bath-rooms, elegantly
rather than sumptuously fitted up: annexed to them is a warm bath of
wonderful construction, in which one can swim and take a view of the sea
at the same time. Not far from this stands the tennis-court, which lies
open to the warmth of the afternoon sun. From thence you go up a sort of
turret which has two rooms below, with the same number above, besides a
dining-room commanding a very extensive look-out on to the sea, the
coast, and the beautiful villas scattered along the shore line. At the
other end is a second turret, containing a room that gets the rising and
setting sun. Behind this is a large store-room and granary, and
underneath, a spacious dining-room, where only the murmur and break of
the sea can be heard, even in a storm: it looks out upon the garden, and
the gestatio,[40] running round the garden. The gestatio is bordered
round with box, and, where that is decayed, with rosemary: for the box,
wherever sheltered by the buildings, grows plentifully, but where it
lies open and exposed to the weather and spray from the sea, though at
some distance from the latter, it quite withers up. Next the gestatio,
and running along inside it, is a shady vine plantation, the path of
which is so soft and easy to the tread that you may walk bare-foot upon
it. The garden is chiefly planted with fig and mulberry trees, to which
this soil is as favourable as it is averse from all others. Here is a
dining-room, which, though it stands away from the sea enjoys the garden
view which is just as pleasant: two apartments run round the back part
of it, the windows of which look out upon the entrance of the villa, and
into a fine kitchen-garden. From here extends an enclosed portico which,
from its great length, you might take for a public one. It has a range
of windows on either side, but more on the side facing the sea, and
fewer on the garden side, and these, single windows and alternate with
the opposite rows. In calm, clear, weather these are all thrown open;
but if it blows, those on the weather side are closed, whilst those away
from the wind can remain open without any inconvenience. Before this
enclosed portico lies a terrace fragrant with the scent of violets, and
warmed by the reflection of the sun from the portico, which, while it
retains the rays, keeps away the north-east wind; and it is as warm on
this side as it is cool on the side opposite: in the same way it is a
protection against the wind from the south-west; and thus, in short, by
means of its several sides, breaks the force of the winds, from whatever
quarter they may blow. These are some of its winter advantages, they are
still more appreciable in the summer time; for at that season it throws
a shade upon the terrace during the whole of the forenoon, and upon the
adjoining portion of the gestatio and garden in the afternoon, casting a
greater or less shade on this side or on that as the day increases or
decreases. But the portico itself is coolest just at the time when the
sun is at its hottest, that is, when the rays fall directly upon the
roof. Also, by opening the windows you let in the western breezes in a
free current, which prevents the place getting oppressive with close and
stagnant air. At the upper end of the terrace and portico stands a
detached garden building, which I call my favourite; my favourite
indeed, as I put it up myself. It contains a very warm winter-room, one
side of which looks down upon the terrace, while the other has a view of
the sea, and both lie exposed to the sun. The bed-room opens on to the
covered portico by means of folding-doors, while its window looks out
upon the sea. On that side next the sea, and facing the middle wall, is
formed a very elegant little recess, which, by means of transparent[41]
windows, and a curtain drawn to or aside, can be made part of the
adjoining room, or separated from it. It contains a couch and two
chairs: as you lie upon this couch, from where your feet are you get a
peep of the sea; looking behind you see the neighbouring villas, and
from the head you have a view of the woods: these three views may be
seen either separately, from so many different windows, or blended
together in one. Adjoining this is a bed-room, which neither the
servants' voices, the murmuring of the sea, the glare of lightning, nor
daylight itself can penetrate, unless you open the windows. This
profound tranquillity and seclusion are occasioned by a passage
separating the wall of this room from that of the garden, and thus, by
means of this intervening space, every noise is drowned. Annexed to this
is a tiny stove-room, which, by opening or shutting a little aperture,
lets out or retains the heat from underneath, according as you require.
Beyond this lie a bed-room and ante-room, which enjoy the sun, though
obliquely indeed, from the time it rises, till the afternoon. When I
retire to this garden summer-house, I fancy myself a hundred miles away
from my villa, and take especial pleasure in it at the feast of the
Saturnalia,[42] when, by the licence of that festive season, every other
part of my house resounds with my servants' mirth: thus I neither
interrupt their amusement nor they my studies. Amongst the pleasures and
conveniences of this situation, there is one drawback, and that is, the
want of running water; but then there are wells about the place, or
rather springs, for they lie close to the surface. And, altogether, the
quality of this coast is remarkable; for dig where you may, you meet,
upon the first turning up of the ground, with a spring of water, quite
pure, not in the least salt, although so near the sea. The neighbouring
woods supply us with all the fuel we require, the other necessaries
Ostia furnishes. Indeed, to a moderate man, even the village (between
which and my house there is only one villa) would supply all ordinary
requirements. It has three public baths, which are a great convenience
if it happen that friends come in unexpectedly, or make too short a stay
to allow time in preparing my own. The whole coast is very pleasantly
sprinkled with villas either in rows or detached, which whether looking
at them from the sea or the shore, present the appearance of so many
different cities. The strand is, sometimes, after a long calm, perfectly
smooth, though, in general, through the storms driving the waves upon
it, it is rough and uneven. I cannot boast that our sea is plentiful in
choice fish; however, it supplies us with capital soles and prawns; but
as to other kinds of provisions, my villa aspires to excel even inland
countries, particularly in milk: for the cattle come up there from the
meadows in large numbers, in pursuit of water and shade. Tell me, now,
have I not good reason for living in, staying in, loving, such a
retreat, which, if you feel no appetite for, you must be morbidly
attached to town? And I only wish you would feel inclined to come down
to it, that to so many charms with which my little villa abounds, it
might have the very considerable addition of your company to recommend
it. Farewell.
XXIV -- To CEREALIS
You advise me to read my late speech before an assemblage of my friends.
I shall do so, as you advise it, though I have strong scruples.
Compositions of this sort lose, I well know, all their force and fire,
and even their very name almost, by a mere recital. It is the solemnity
of the tribunal, the concourse of advocates, the suspense of the event,
the fame of the several pleaders concerned, the different parties formed
amongst the audience; add to this the gestures, the pacing, aye the
actual running, to and fro, of the speaker, the body working[43] in
harmony with every inward emotion, that conspire to give a spirit and a
grace to what he delivers. This is the reason that those who plead
sitting, though they retain most of the advantages possessed by those
who stand up to plead, weaken the whole force of their oratory. The eyes
and hands of the reader, those important instruments of graceful
elocution, being engaged, it is no wonder that the attention of the
audience droops, without anything extrinsic to keep it up, no
allurements of gesture to attract, no smart, stinging impromptus to
enliven. To these general considerations I must add this particular
disadvantage which attends the speech in question, that it is of the
argumentative kind; and it is natural for an author to infer that what
he wrote with labour will not be read with pleasure. For who is there so
unprejudiced as not to prefer the attractive and sonorous to the sombre
and unornamented in style? It is very unreasonable that there should be
any distinction; however, it is certain the judges generally expect one
style of pleading, and the audience another; whereas an auditor ought to
be affected only by those parts which would especially strike him, were
he in the place of the judge. Nevertheless it is possible the objections
which lie against this piece may be surmounted in consideration of the
novelty it has to recommend it: the novelty I mean with respect to us;
for the Greek orators have a method of reasoning upon a different
occasion, not altogether unlike that which I have employed. They, when
they would throw out a law, as contrary to some former one unrepealed,
argue by comparing those together; so I, on the contrary, endeavour to
prove that the crime, which I was insisting upon as falling within the
intent and meaning of the law relating to public extortions, was
agreeable, not only to that law, but likewise to other laws of the same
nature. Those who are ignorant of the jurisprudence of their country can
have no taste for reasonings of this kind, but those who are not ought
to be proportionably the more favourable in the judgments they pass upon
them. I shall endeavour, therefore, if you persist in my reciting it, to
collect as learned an audience as I can. But before you determine this
point, do weigh impartially the different considerations I have laid
before you, and then decide as reason shall direct; for it is reason
that must justify you; obedience to your commands will be a sufficient
apology for me. Farewell.
XXV -- To CALVISIUS