Regulus: it is wonderful how he carries through what he has set his mind
to. He chose lately to be extremely concerned for the loss of his son:
accordingly he mourned for him as never man mourned before. He took it
into his head to have an immense number of statues and pictures of him;
immediately all the artisans in Rome are set to work. Canvas, wax,
brass, silver, gold, ivory, marble, all exhibit the figure of the young
Regulus. Not long ago he read, before a numerous audience, a memoir of
his son: a memoir of a mere boy! However he read it. He wrote likewise a
sort of circular letter to the several Decurii desiring them to choose
out one of their order who had a strong clear voice, to read this eulogy
to the people; it has been actually done. Now had this force of
character or whatever else you may call a fixed determination in
obtaining whatever one has a mind for, been rightly applied, what
infinite good it might have effected! The misfortune is, there is less
of this quality about good people than about bad people, and as
ignorance begets rashness, and thoughtfulness produces deliberation, so
modesty is apt to cripple the action of virtue, whilst confidence
strengthens vice. Regulus is a case in point: he has a weak voice, an
awkward delivery, an indistinct utterance, a slow imagination, and no
memory; in a word, he possesses nothing but a sort of frantic energy:
and yet, by the assistance of a flighty turn and much impudence, he
passes as an orator. Herennius Senecio admirably reversed Cato's
definition of an orator, and applied it to Regulus: "An orator," he
said, "is a bad man, unskilled in the art of speaking." And really
Cato's definition is not a more exact description of a true orator than
Seneclo's is of the character of this man. Would you make me a suitable
return for this letter? Let me know if you, or any of my friends in your
town, have, like a stroller in the marketplace, read this doleful
production of Regulus's, "raising," as Demosthenes says, "your voice
most merrily, and straining every muscle in your throat." For so absurd
a performance must excite laughter rather than compassion; and indeed
the composition is as puerile as the subject. Farewell.
XLI -- To MATURUS ARRIANUS
Mv advancement to the dignity of augur[65] is an honour that justly
indeed merits your congratulations; not only because it is highly
honourable to receive, even in the slightest instances, a testimony of
the approbation of so wise and discreet a prince,[66] but because it is
moreover an ancient and religious institution, which has this sacred and
peculiar privilege annexed to it, that it is for life. Other sacerdotal
offices, though they may, perhaps, be almost equal to this one in
dignity, yet as they are given so they may be taken away again: but
fortune has no further power over this than to bestow it. What
recommends this dignity still more highly is, that I have the honour to
succeed so illustrious a person as Julius Frontinus. He for many years,
upon the nomination-day of proper persons to be received into the sacred
college, constantly proposed me, as though he had a view to electing me
as his successor; and since it actually proved so in the event, I am
willing to look upon it as something more than mere accident. But the
circumstance, it seems, that most pleases you in this affair, is, that
Cicero enjoyed the same post; and you rejoice (you tell me) to find that
I follow his steps as closely in the path of honours as I endeavour to
do in that of eloquence. I wish, indeed, that as I had the advantage of
being admitted earlier into the same order of priesthood, and into the
consular office, than Cicero, that so I might, in my later years, catch
some spark, at least, of his divine genius! The former, indeed, being at
man's disposal, may be conferred on me and on many others, but the
latter it is as presumptuous to hope for as it is difficult to reach,
being in the gift of heaven alone. Farewell.
XLII -- To STATIUS SABINUS
YOUR letter informs me that Sabina, who appointed you and me her heirs,
though she has nowhere expressly directed that Modestus shall have his
freedom, yet has left him a legacy in the following words, "I give, &c.-
-To Modestus, whom I have ordered to have his freedom": upon which you
desire my opinion. I have consulted skilful lawyers upon the point, and
they all agree Modestus is not entitled to his liberty, since it is not
expressly given, and consequently that the legacy is void, as being
bequeathed to a slave.[67] But it evidently appears to be a mistake in
the testatrix; and therefore I think we ought to act in this case as
though Sabina had directed, in so many words, what, it is clear, she had
ordered. I am persuaded you will go with me in this opinion, who so
religiously regard the will of the deceased, which indeed where it can
be discovered will always be law to honest heirs. Honour is to you and
me as strong an obligation as the compulsion of law is to others. Let
Modestus then enjoy his freedom and his legacy as fully as if Sabina had
observed all the requisite forms, as indeed they effectually do who make
a judicious choice of their heirs. Farewell.
XLIII -- To CORNELIUS MINICIANUS
[68] Have you heard--I suppose, not yet, for the news has but just
arrived -- that Valerius Licinianus has become a professor in Sicily?
This unfortunate person, who lately enjoyed the dignity of praetor, and
was esteemed the most eloquent of our advocates, is now fallen from a
senator to an exile, from an orator to a teacher of rhetoric.
Accordingly in his inaugural speech he uttered, sorrowfully and
solemnly, the following words: "Oh! Fortune, how capriciously dost thou
sport with mankind! Thou makest rhetoricians of senators, and senators
of rhetoricians!" A sarcasm so poignant and full of gall that one might
almost imagine he fixed upon this profession merely for the sake of an
opportunity of applying it. And having made his first appearance in
school, clad in the Greek cloak (for exiles have no right to wear the
toga), after arranging himself and looking down upon his attire, "I am,
however," he said, "going to declaim in Latin." You will think, perhaps,
this situation, wretched and deplorable as it is, is what he well
deserves for having stained the honourable profession of an orator with
the crime of incest. It is true, indeed, he pleaded guilty to the
charge; but whether from a consciousness of his guilt, or from an
apprehension of worse consequences if he denied it, is not clear; for
Domitian generally raged most furiously where his evidence failed him
most hopelessly. That emperor had determined that Cornelia, chief of the
Vestal Virgins, should be buried alive, from an extravagant notion that
exemplary severities of this kind conferred lustre upon his reign.
Accordingly, by virtue of his office as supreme pontiff, or, rather, in
the exercise of a tyrant's cruelty, a despot's lawlessness, he convened
the sacred college, not in the pontifical court where they usually
assemble, but at his villa near Alba; and there, with a guilt no less
heinous than that which he professed to be punishing, he condemned her,
when she was not present to defend herself, on the charge of incest,
while he himself had been guilty, not only of debauching his own
brother's daughter, but was also accessory to her death: for that lady,
being a widow, in order to conceal her shame, endeavoured to procure an
abortion, and by that means lost her life. However, the priests were
directed to see the sentence immediately executed upon Cornelia. As they
were leading her to the place of execution, she called upon Vesta, and
the rest of the gods, to attest her innocence; and, amongst other
exclamations, frequently cried out, "Is it possible that Cæsar can think
me polluted, under the influence of whose sacred functions he has
conquered and triumphed?"[69] Whether she said this in flattery or
derision; whether it proceeded from a consciousness of her innocence, or
contempt of the emperor, is uncertain; but she continued exclaiming in
this manner, till she came to the place of execution, to which she was
led, whether innocent or guilty I cannot say, at all events with every
appearance and demonstration of innocence. As she was being lowered down
into the subterranean vault, her robe happening to catch upon something
in the descent, she turned round and disengaged it, when, the
executioner offering his assistance, she drew herself back with horror,
refusing to be so much as touched by him, as though it were a defilement
to her pure and unspotted chastity: still preserving the appearance of
sanctity up to the last moment; and, among all the other instances of
her modesty,
"She took great care to fall with decency."<a href="#linknote-70"
name="linknoteref-70" id="linknoteref-70">[70]</a>
Celer likewise, a Roman knight, who was accused of an intrigue with her,
while they were scourging him with rods[71] in the Forum, persisted in
exclaiming, "What have I done?--I have done nothing." These declarations
of innocence had exasperated Domitian exceedingly, as imputing to him
acts of cruelty and injustice, accordingly Licinianus being seized by
the emperor's orders for having concealed a freedwoman of Cornelia's in
one of his estates, was advised, by those who took him in charge, to
confess the fact, if he hoped to obtain a remission of his punishment,
circumstance to add further, that a young nobleman, having had his tunic
torn, an ordinary occurrence in a crowd, stood with his gown thrown over
him, to hear me, and that during the seven hours I was speaking, whilst
my success more than counterbalanced the fatigue of so long a speech. So
let us set to and not screen our own indolence under pretence of that of
the public. Never, be very sure of that, will there be wanting hearers
and readers, so long as we can only supply them with speakers and
writers worth their attention. Farewell.
XLV -- To ASINIUS
You advise me, nay you entreat me, to undertake, in her absence, the
cause of Corellia, against C. Caecilius, consul elect. For your advice I
am grateful, of your entreaty I really must complain; without the first,
indeed, I should have been ignorant of this affair, but the last was
unnecessary, as I need no solicitations to comply, where it would be
ungenerous in me to refuse; for can I hesitate a moment to take upon
myself the protection of a daughter of Corellius? It is true, indeed,
though there is no particular intimacy between her adversary and myself,
still we are upon good enough terms. It is also true that he is a person
of rank, and one who has a high claim upon my especial regard, as
destined to enter upon an office which I have had the honour to fill;
and it is natural for a man to be desirous those dignities should be
held in the highest esteem which he himself once possessed. Yet all
these considerations appear indifferent and trifling when I reflect that
it is the daughter of Corellius whom I am to defend. The memory of that
excellent person, than whom this age has not produced a man of greater
dignity, rectitude, and acuteness, is indelibly imprinted upon my mind.
My regard for him sprang from my admiration of the man, and contrary to
what is usually the case, my admiration increased upon a thorough
knowledge of him, and indeed I did know him thoroughly, for he kept
nothing back from me, whether gay or serious, sad or joyous. When he was
but a youth, he esteemed, and (I will even venture to say) revered, me
as if I had been his equal. When I solicited any post of honour, he
supported me with his interest, and recommended me with his testimony;
when I entered upon it, he was my introducer and my companion; when I
exercised it, he was my guide and my counsellor. In a word, whenever my
interest was concerned, he exerted himself, in spite of his weakness and
declining years, with as much alacrity as though he were still young and
lusty. In private, in public, and at court, how often has he advanced
and supported my credit and interest! It happened once that the
conversation, in the presence of the emperor Nerva, turned upon the
promising young men of that time, and several of the company present
were pleased to mention me with applause; he sat for a little while
silent, which gave what he said the greater weight; and then, with that
air of dignity, to which you are no stranger, "I must be reserved," said
he, "in my praises of Pliny, because he does nothing without advice." By
which single sentence he bestowed upon me more than my most extravagant
wishes could aspire to, as he represented my conduct to be always such
as wisdom must approve, since it was wholly under the direction of one
of the wisest of men. Even in his last moments he said to his daughter
(as she often mentions), "I have in the course of a long life raised up
many friends to you, but there are none in whom you may more assuredly
confide than Pliny and Cornutus." A circumstance I cannot reflect upon
without being deeply sensible how incumbent it is upon me to endeavour
not to disappoint the confidence so excellent a judge of human nature
reposed in me. I shall therefore most readily give my assistance to
Corellia in this affair, and willingly risk any displeasure I may incur
by appearing in her behalf. Though I should imagine, if in the course of
my pleadings I should find an opportunity to explain and enforce more
fully and at large than the limits of a letter allow of the reasons I
have here mentioned, upon which I rest at once my apology and my glory;
her adversary (whose suit may perhaps, as you say, be entirely without
precedent, as it is against a woman) will not only excuse, but approve,
my conduct. Farewell.
XLVI -- To HISPULLA
As you are a model of all virtue, and loved your late excellent brother,
who had such a fondness for you, with an affection equal to his own;
regarding too his daughter[72] as your child, not only shewing her an
aunt's tenderness but supplying the place of the parent she had lost; I
know it will give you the greatest pleasure and joy to hear that she
proves worthy of her father, her grandfather, and yourself. She
possesses an excellent understanding together with a consummate
prudence, and gives the strongest evidence of the purity of her heart by
her fondness of her husband. Her affection for me, moreover, has given
her a taste for books, and my productions, which she takes a pleasure in
reading, and even in getting by heart, are continually in her hands. How
full of tender anxiety is she when I am going to speak in any case, how
rejoiced she feels when it is got through. While I am pleading, she
stations persons to inform her from time to time how I am heard, what
applauses I receive, and what success attends the case. When I recite my
works at any time, she conceals herself behind some curtain, and drinks
in my praises with greedy ears. She sings my verses too, adapting them
to her lyre, with no other master but love, that best of instructors,
for her guide. From these happy circumstances I derive my surest hopes,
that the harmony between us will increase with our days, and be as
lasting as our lives. For it is not my youth or person, which time
gradually impairs; it is my honour and glory that she cares for. But
what less could be expected from one who was trained by your hands, and
formed by your instructions; who was early familiarized under your roof
with all that is pure and virtuous, and who learnt to love me first
through your praises? And as you revered my mother with all the respect
due even to a parent, so you kindly directed and encouraged my tender
years, presaging from that early period all that my wife now fondly
imagines I really am. Accept therefore of our mutual thanks, mine, for
your giving me her, hers for your giving her me; for you have chosen us
out, as it were, for each other. Farewell.
XLVII -- To ROMATIUS FIASIUS
Look here! The next time the court sits, you must, at all events, take
your place there. In vain would your indolence repose itself under my
protection, for there is no absenting oneself with impunity. Look at
that severe, determined, praetor, Licinius Nepos, who fined even a
senator for the same neglect! The senator pleaded his cause in person,
but in suppliant tone. The fine, it is true, was remitted, but sore was
his dismay, humble his intercession, and he had to ask pardon. "All
praetors are not so severe as that," you will reply; you are mistaken --
for though indeed to be the author and reviver of an example of this
kind may be an act of severity, yet, once introduced, even lenity
herself may follow the precedent. Farewell.
XLVIII -- To LICINIUS SURA
I HAVE brought you as a little present out of the country a query which
well deserves the consideration of your extensive knowledge. There is a
spring which rises in a neighbouring mountain, and running among the
rocks is received into a little banqueting-room, artificially formed for
that purpose, from whence, after being detained a short time, it falls
into the Larian lake. The nature of this spring is extremely curious; it
ebbs and flows regularly three times a day. The increase and decrease is
plainly visible, and exceedingly interesting to observe. You sit down by
the side of the fountain, and while you are taking a repast and drinking
its water, which is extremely cool, you see it gradually rise and fall.
If you place a ring, or anything else at the bottom, when it is dry, the
water creeps gradually up, first gently washing, finally covering it
entirely, and then little by little subsides again. If you wait long
enough, you may see it thus alternately advance and recede three
successive times. Shall we say that some secret current of air stops and
opens the fountain-head, first rushing in and checking the flow and
then, driven back by the counter-resistance of the water, escaping
again; as we see in bottles, and other vessels of that nature, where,
there not being a free and open passage, though you turn their necks
perpendicularly or obliquely downwards, yet, the outward air obstructing
the vent, they discharge their contents as it were by starts? Or, may
not this small collection of water be successively contracted and
enlarged upon the same principle as the ebb and flow of the sea? Or,
again, as those rivers which discharge themselves into the sea, meeting
with contrary winds and the swell of the ocean, are forced back in their
channels, so, in the same way, may there not be something that checks
this fountain, for a time, in its progress? Or is there rather a certain
reservoir that contains these waters in the bowels of the earth, and
while it is recruiting its discharges, the stream in consequence flows
more slowly and in less quantity, but, when it has collected its due
measure, runs on again in its usual strength and fulness? Or lastly, is
there I know not what kind of subterranean counterpoise, that throws up
the water when the fountain is dry, and keeps it back when it is full?
You, who are so well qualified for the enquiry, will examine into the
causes of this wonderful phenomenon; it will be sufficient for me if I
have given you an adequate description of it. Farewell.
XLIX -- To ANNIUS SEVERUS
A SMALL legacy was lately left me, yet one more acceptable than a far
larger bequest would have been. How more acceptable than a far larger
one? In this way. Pomponia Gratilla, having disinherited her son
Assidius Curianus, appointed me of one of her heirs, and Sertorius
Severus, of pretorian rank, together with several eminent Roman knights,
co-heirs along with me. The son applied to me to give him my share of
the inheritance, in order to use my name as an example to the rest of
the joint-heirs, but offered at the same time to enter into a secret
agreement to return me my proportion. I told him, it was by no means
agreeable to my character to seem to act one way while in reality I was
acting another, besides it was not quite honourable making presents to a
man of his fortune, who had no children; in a word, this would not at
all answer the purpose at which he was aiming, whereas, if I were to
withdraw my claim, it might be of some service to him, and this I was
ready and willing to do, if he could clearly prove to me that he was
unjustly disinherited.
"Do then," he said, "be my arbitrator in this case." After a short pause
I answered him, "I will, for I don't see why I should not have as good
an opinion of my own impartial disinterestedness as you seem to have.
But, mind, I am not to be prevailed upon to decide the point in question
against your mother, if it should appear she had just reason for what
she has done." "As you please," he replied, "which I am sure is always
to act according to justice." I called in, as my assistants, Corellius
and Frontinus, two of the very best lawyers Rome at that time afforded.
With these in attendance, I heard the case in my own chamber. Curianus
said everything which he thought would favour his pretensions, to whom
(there being nobody but myself to defend the character of the deceased)
I made a short reply; after which I retired with my friends to
deliberate, and, being agreed upon our verdict, I said to him,
"Curianus, it is our opinion that your conduct has justly drawn upon you
your mother's displeasure." Sometime afterwards, Curianus commenced a
suit in the Court of the Hundred against all the co-heirs except myself.
The day appointed for the trial approaching, the rest of the co-heirs
were anxious to compromise the affair and have done with it, not out of
any diffidence of their cause, but from a distrust of the times. They
were apprehensive of what had happened to many others, happening to
them, and that from a civil suit it might end in a criminal one, as
there were some among them to whom the friendship of Gratilla and
Rusticus[73] might be extremely prejudicial: they therefore desired me
to go and talk with Curianus. We met in the temple of Concord; "Now
supposing," I said, "your mother had left you the fourth part of her
estate, or even suppose she had made you sole heir, but had exhausted so
much of the estate in legacies that there would not be more than a
fourth part remaining to you, could you justly complain? You ought to be
content, therefore, if, being absolutely disinherited as you are, the
heirs are willing to relinquish to you a fourth part, which however I
will increase by contributing my proportion. You know you did not
commence any suit against me, and two years have now elapsed, which
gives me legal and indisputable possession. But to induce you to agree
to the proposals on the part of the other co-heirs, and that you may be
no sufferer by the peculiar respect you shew me, I offer to advance my
proportion with them." The silent approval of my own conscience is not
the only result out of this transaction; it has contributed also to the
honour of my character. For it is this same Cunianus who has left me the
legacy I have mentioned in the beginning of my letter, and I received it
as a very notable mark of his approbation of my conduct, if I do not
flatter myself. I have written and told you all this, because in all my
joys and sorrows I am wont to look upon you as myself, and I thought it
would be unkind not to communicate to so tender a friend whatever
occasions me a sensible gratification; for I am not philosopher enough
to be indifferent, when I think I have acted like an honour-able man,
whether my actions meet with that approval which is in some sort their
due. Farewell.
L -- To TITIUS ARISTO