friend Fundanus is dead! I have never seen a more cheerful and more
lovable girl, or one who better deserved to have enjoyed a long, I had
almost said an immortal, life! She was scarcely fourteen, and yet there
was in her a wisdom far beyond her years, a matronly gravity united with
girlish sweetness and virgin bashfulness. With what an endearing
fondness did she hang on her father's neck! How affectionately and
modestly she used to greet us his friends! With what a tender and
deferential regard she used to treat her nurses, tutors, teachers, each
in their respective offices! What an eager, industrious, intelligent,
reader she was! She took few amusements, and those with caution. How
self-controlled, how patient, how brave, she was, under her last
illness! She complied with all the directions of her physicians; she
spoke cheerful, comforting words to her sister and her father; and when
all her bodily strength was exhausted, the vigour of her mind sustained
her. That indeed continued even to her last moments, unbroken by the
pain of a long illness, or the terrors of approaching death; and it is a
reflection which makes us miss her, and grieve that she has gone from
us, the more. 0 melancholy, untimely, loss, too truly! She was engaged
to an excellent young man; the wedding-day was fixed, and we were all
invited. How our joy has been turned into sorrow! I cannot express in
words the inward pain I felt when I heard Fundanus himself (as grief is
ever finding out fresh circumstances to aggravate its affliction)
ordering the money he had intended laying out upon clothes, pearls, and
jewels for her marriage, to be employed in frankincense, ointments, and
perfumes for her funeral. He is a man of great learning and good sense,
who has applied himself from his earliest youth to the deeper studies
and the fine arts, but all the maxims of fortitude which he has received
from books, or advanced himself, he now absolutely rejects, and every
other virtue of his heart gives place to all a parent's tenderness. You
will excuse, you will even approve, his grief, when you consider what he
has lost. He has lost a daughter who resembled him in his manners, as
well as his person, and exactly copied out all her father. So, if you
should think proper to write to him upon the subject of so reasonable a
grief, let me remind you not to use the rougher arguments of
consolation, and such as seem to carry a sort of reproof with them, but
those of kind and sympathizing humanity. Time will render him more open
to the dictates of reason: for as a fresh wound shrinks back from the
hand of the surgeon, but by degrees submits to, and even seeks of its
own accord the means of its cure, so a mind under the first impression
of a misfortune shuns and rejects all consolations, but at length
desires and is lulled by their gentle application. Farewell.
LV -- To SPURINNA
KNOWING, as I do, how much you admire the polite arts, and what
satisfaction you take in seeing young men of quality pursue the steps of
their ancestors, I seize this earliest opportunity of informing you that
I went to-day to hear Calpurnius Piso read a beautiful and scholarly
production of his, entitled the Sports of Love. His numbers, which were
elegiac, were tender, sweet, and flowing, at the same time that they
occasionally rose to all the sublimity of diction which the nature of
his subject required. He varied his style from the lofty to the simple,
from the close to the copious, from the grave to the florid, with equal
genius and judgment. These beauties were further recommended by a most
harmonious voice; which a very becoming modesty rendered still more
pleasing. A confusion and concern in the countenance of a speaker
imparts a grace to all he utters; for diffidence, I know not how, is
infinitely more engaging than assurance and self-sufficiency. I might
mention several other circumstances to his advantage, which I am the
more inclined to point out, as they are exceedingly striking in one of
his age, and are most uncommon in a youth of his quality: but not to
enter into a farther detail of his merit, I will only add that, when he
had finished his poem, I embraced him very heartily, and being persuaded
that nothing is a greater encouragement than applause, I exhorted him to
go on as he had begun, and to shine out to posterity with the same
glorious lustre, which was reflected upon him from his ancestors. I
congratulated his excellent mother, and particularly his brother, who
gained as much honour by the generous affection he manifested upon this
occasion as Calpurnius did by his eloquence; so remarkable a solicitude
he showed for him when he began to recite his poem, and so much pleasure
in his success. May the gods grant me frequent occasions of giving you
accounts of this nature! for I have a partiality to the age in which I
live, and should rejoice to find it not barren of merit. I ardently
wish, therefore, our young men of quality would have something else to
show of honourable memorial in their houses than the images[80] of their
ancestors. As for those which are placed in the mansion of these
excellent youths, I now figure them to myself as silently applauding and
encouraging their pursuits, and (what is a sufficient degree of honour
to both brothers) as recognizing their kindred. Farewell.
LVI -- To PAULINUS
As I know the humanity with which you treat your own servants, I have
less reserve in confessing to you the indulgence I shew to mine. I have
ever in my mind that line of Homer's --
"Who swayed his people with a father's love":
and this expression of ours, "father of a family." But were I harsher
and harder than I really am by nature, the ill state of health of my
freedman Zosimus (who has the stronger claim upon my tenderness, in that
he now stands in more especial need of it) would be sufficient to soften
me. He is a good, honest fellow, attentive in his services, and well-
read; but his chief talent, and indeed his distinguishing qualification,
is that of a comedian, in which he highly excels. His pronunciation is
distinct, correct in emphasis, pure, and graceful: he has a very skilled
touch, too, upon the lyre, and performs with better execution than is
necessary for one of his profession. To this I must add, he reads
history, oratory, and poetry, as well as if these had been the sole
objects of his study. I am the more particular in enumerating his
qualifications, to let you see how many agreeable services I receive
from this one servant alone. He is indeed endeared to me by the ties of
a long affection, which are strengthened by the danger he is now in. For
nature has so formed our hearts that nothing contributes more to incite
and kindle affection than the fear of losing the object of it: a fear
which I have suffered more than once on his account. Some years ago he
strained himself so much by too strong an exertion of his voice, that he
spit blood, upon which account I sent him into Egypt;[81] from whence,
after a long absence, belately returned with great benefit to his
health. But having again exerted himself for several days together
beyond his strength, he was reminded of his former malady by a slight
return of his cough, and a spitting of blood. For this reason I intend
to send him to your farm at Forum-Julii,[82] having frequently heard you
mention it as a healthy air, and recommend the milk of that place as
very salutary in disorders of his nature. I beg you would give
directions to your people to receive him into your house, and to supply
him with whatever he may have occasion for: which will not be much, for
he is so sparing and abstemious as not only to abstain from delicacies,
but even to deny himself the necessaries his ill state of health
requires. I shall furnish him towards his journey with what will be
sufficient for one of his moderate requirements, who is coming under
your roof. Farewell.
LVII -- To RUFUS
I WENT into the Julian[83] court to hear those lawyers to whom,
according to the last adjournment, I was to reply. The judges had taken
their seats, the decemviri[84] were arrived, the eyes of the audience
were fixed upon the counsel, and all was hushed silence and expectation,
when a messenger arrived from the praetor, and the Hundred are at once
dismissed, and the case postponed: an accident extremely agreeable to
me, who am never so well prepared but that I am glad of gaining further
time. The occasion of the court's rising thus abruptly was a short edict
of Nepos, the praetor for criminal causes, in which he directed all
persons concerned as plaintiffs or defendants in any cause before him to
take notice that he designed strictly to put in force the decree of the
senate annexed to his edict. Which decree was expressed in the following
words:
ALL PERSONS WHOSOEVER THAT HAVE ANY LAW-SUITS DEPENDING ARE HEREBY
REQUIRED AND COMMANDED, BEFORE ANY PROCEEDINGS BE HAD THEREON, TO TAKE
AN OATH THAT THEY HAVE NOT GIVEN, PROMISED, OR ENGAGED TO GIVE, ANY FEE
OR REWARD TO ANY ADVOCATE, UPON ACCOUNT OF HIS UNDERTAKING THEIR CAUSE.
In these terms, and many others equally full and express, the lawyers
were prohibited to make their professions venal. However, after the case
is decided, they are permitted to accept a gratuity of ten thousand
sesterces.[85] The praetor for civil causes, being alarmed at this order
of Nepos, gave us this unexpected holiday in order to take time to
consider whether he should follow the example. Meanwhile the whole town
is talking, and either approving or condemning this edict of Nepos. We
have got then at last (say the latter with a sneer) a redressor of
abuses. But pray was there never a praetor before this man? Who is he
then who sets up in this way for a public reformer? Others, on the
contrary, say, "He has done perfectly right upon his entry into office;
he has paid obedience to the laws; considered the decrees of the senate,
repressed most indecent contracts, and will not suffer the most
honourable of all professions to be debased into a sordid lucre
traffic." This is what one hears all around one; but which side may
prevail, the event will shew. It is the usual method of the world
(though a very unequitable rule of estimation) to pronounce an action
either right or wrong, according as it is attended with good or ill
success; in consequence of which you may hear the very same conduct
attributed to zeal or folly, to liberty or licentiousness, upon
different several occasions. Farewell.
LVIII -- To ARRIANUS
SOMETIMES I miss Regulus in our courts. I cannot say I deplore his loss.
The man, it must be owned, highly respected his profession, grew pale
with study and anxiety over it, and used to write out his speeches
though he could not get them by heart. There was a practice he had of
painting round his right or left eye,[86] and wearing a white patch[87]
over one side or the other of his forehead, according as he was to plead
either for the plaintiff or defendant; of consulting the soothsayers
upon the issue of an action; still, all this excessive superstition was
really due to his extreme earnestness in his profession. And it was
acceptable enough being concerned in the same cause with him, as he
always obtained full indulgence in point of time, and never failed to
get an audience together; for what could be more convenient than, under
the protection of a liberty which you did not ask yourself, and all the
odium of the arrangement resting with another, and before an audience
which you had not the trouble of collecting, to speak on at your ease,
and as long as you thought proper? Nevertheless Regulus did well in
departing this life, though he would have done much better had he made
his exit sooner. He might really have lived now without any danger to
the public, in the reign of a prince under whom he would have had no
opportunity of doing any harm. I need not scruple therefore, I think, to
say I sometimes miss him: for since his death the custom has prevailed
of not allowing, nor indeed of asking more than an hour or two to plead
in, and sometimes not above half that time. The truth is, our advocates
take more pleasure in finishing a cause than in defending it; and our
judges had rather rise from the bench than sit upon it: such is their
indolence, and such their indifference to the honour of eloquence and
the interest of justice! But are we wiser than our ancestors? are we
more equitable than the laws which grant so many hours and days of
adjournments to a case? were our forefathers slow of apprehension, and
dull beyond measure? and are we clearer of speech, quicker in our
conceptions, or more scrupulous in our decisions, because we get over
our causes in fewer hours than they took days? O Regulus! it was by zeal
in your profession that you secured an advantage which is but rarely
given to the highest integrity. As for myself, whenever I sit upon the
bench (which is much oftener than I appear at the bar), I always give
the advocates as much time as they require: for I look upon it as highly
presuming to pretend to guess, before a case is heard, what time it will
require, and to set limits to an affair before one is acquainted with
its extent; especially as the first and most sacred duty of a judge is
patience, which constitutes an important part of justice. But this, it
is objected, would give an opening to much superfluous matter: I grant
it may; yet is it not better to hear too much than not to hear enough?
Besides, how shall you know that what an advocate has farther to offer
will be superfluous, until you have heard him? But this, and many other
public abuses, will be best reserved for a conversation when we meet;
for I know your affection to the commonwealth inclines you to wish that
some means might be found out to check at least those grievances, which
would now be very difficult absolutely to remove. But to return to
affairs of private concern: I hope all goes well in your family; mine
remains in its usual situation. The good which I enjoy grows more
acceptable to me by its continuance; as habit renders me less sensible
of the evils I suffer. Farewell.
LIX -- To CALPURNIA[88]
NEVER was business more disagreeable to me than when it prevented me not
only from accompanying you when you went into Campania for your health,
but from following you there soon after; for I want particularly to be
with you now, that I may learn from my own eyes whether you are growing
stronger and stouter, and whether the tranquillity, the amusements, and
plenty of that charming country really agree with you. Were you in
perfect health, yet I could ill support your absence; for even a
moment's uncertainty of the welfare of those we tenderly love causes a
feeling of suspense and anxiety: but now your sickness conspires with
your absence to trouble me grievously with vague and various anxieties.
I dread everything, fancy everything, and, as is natural to those who
fear, conjure up the very things I most dread. Let me the more earnestly
entreat you then to think of my anxiety, and write to me every day, and
even twice a day: I shall be more easy, at least while I am reading your
letters, though when I have read them, I shall immediately feel my fears
again. Farewell.
LX -- To CALPURNIA
You kindly tell me my absence very sensibly affects you, and that your
only consolation is in conversing with my works, which you frequently
substitute in my stead. I am glad that you miss me; I am glad that you
find some rest in these alleviations. In return, I read over your
letters again and again, and am continually taking them up, as if I had
just received them; but, alas! this only stirs in me a keener longing
for you; for how sweet must her conversation be whose letters have so
many charms? Let me receive them, however, as often as possible,
notwithstanding there is still a mixture of pain in the pleasure they
afford me. Farewell.
LXI -- To PRISCUS
You know Attilius Crescens, and you love him; who is there, indeed, of
any rank or worth, that does not? For myself, I profess to have a
friendship for him far exceeding ordinary attachments of the world. Our
native towns are separated only by a day's journey; and we got to care
for each other when we were very young; the season for passionate
friendships. Ours improved by years; and so far from being chilled, it
was confirmed by our riper judgments, as those who know us best can
witness. He takes pleasure in boasting everywhere of my friendship; as I
do to let the world know that his reputation, his ease, and his interest
are my peculiar concern. Insomuch that upon his expressing to me some
apprehension of insolent treatment from a certain person who was
entering upon the tribuneship of the people, I could not forbear
answering, --
"Long as Achilles breathes this vital air, To touch thy head no impious
hand shall dare."<a href="#linknote-89" name="linknoteref-89"
id="linknoteref-89">[89]</a>
What is my object in telling you these things? Why, to shew you that I
look upon every injury offered to Attilius as done to myself. "But what
is the object of all this?" you repeat. You must know then, Valerius
Varus, at his death, owed Attilius a sum of money. Though I am on
friendly terms with Maximus, his heir, yet there is a closer friendship
between him and you. I beg therefore, and entreat you by the affection
you have for me, to take care that Attilius is not only paid the capital
which is due to him, but all the long arrears of interest too. He
neither covets the property of others nor neglects the care of his own;
and as he is not engaged in any lucrative profession, he has nothing to
depend upon but his own frugality: for as to literature, in which he
greatly distinguishes himself, he pursues this merely from motives of
pleasure and ambition. In such a situation, the slightest loss presses
hard upon a man, and the more so because he has no opportunities of
repairing any injury done to his fortune. Remove then, I entreat you,
our uneasiness, and suffer me still to enjoy the pleasure of his wit and
bonhommie; for I cannot bear to see the cheerfulness of my friend over-
clouded, whose mirth and good humour dissipates every gloom of
melancholy in myself. In short, you know what a pleasant entertaining
fellow he is, and I hope you will not suffer any injury to engloom and
embitter his disposition. You may judge by the warmth of his affection
how severe his resentments would prove; for a generous and great mind
can ill brook an injury when coupled with contempt. But though he could
pass it over, yet cannot I: on the contrary, I shall regard it as a
wrong and indignity done to myself, and resent it as one offered to my
friend; that is, with double warmth. But, after all, why this air of
threatening? rather let me end in the same style in which I began,
namely, by begging, entreating you so to act in this affair that neither
Attilius may have reason to imagine (which I am exceedingly anxious he
should not) that I neglect his interest, nor that I may have occasion to
charge you with carelessness of mine: as undoubtedly I shall not if you
have the same regard for the latter as I have for the former. Farewell.
LXII -- To ALBINUS
I WAS lately at Alsium,[90] where my mother-in-law has a villa which
once belonged to Verginius Rufus. The place renewed in my mind the
sorrowful remembrance of that-great and excellent man. He was extremely
fond of this retirement, and used to call it the nest of his old age.
Whichever way I looked, I missed him, I felt his absence. I had an
inclination to visit his monument; but I repented having seen it,
afterwards: for I found it still unfinished, and this, not from any
difficulty residing in the work itself, for it is very plain, or rather
indeed slight; but through the neglect of him to whose care it was
entrusted. I could not see without a concern, mixed with indignation,
the remains of a man, whose fame filled the whole world, lie for ten
years after his death without an inscription, or a name. He had however
directed that the divine and immortal action of his life should be
recorded upon his tomb in the following lines:
"Here Rufus lies, who Vindex' arms withstood, Not for himself, but for
his country's good."
But faithful friends are so rare, and the dead so soon forgotten, that
we shall be obliged ourselves to build even our very tombs, and
anticipate the office of our heirs. For who is there that has no reason
to fear for himself what we see has happened to Verginius, whose
eminence and distinction, while rendering such treatment more shameful,
so, in the same way, make it more notorious? Farewell.
LXIII -- To MAXIMUS
O WHAT a happy day I lately spent! I was called by the prefect of Rome,
to assist him in a certain case, and had the pleasure of hearing two
excellent young men, Fuscus Salinator and Numidius Quadratus, plead on
the opposite sides: their worth is equal, and each of them will one day,
I am persuaded, prove an ornament not only to the present age, but to
literature itself. They evinced upon this occasion an admirable probity,
supported by inflexible courage: their dress was decent, their elocution
distinct, their tones were manly, their memory retentive, their genius
elevated, and guided by an equal solidity of judgment. I took infinite
pleasure in observing them display these noble qualities; particularly
as I had the satisfaction to see that, while they looked upon me as
their guide and model, they appeared to the audience as my imitators and
rivals. It was a day (I cannot but repeat it again) which afforded me
the most exquisite happiness, and which I shall ever distinguish with
the fairest mark. For what indeed could be either more pleasing to me on
the public account than to observe two such noble youths building their
fame and glory upon the polite arts; or more desirable upon my own than
to be marked out as a worthy example to them in their pursuits of
virtue? May the gods still grant me the continuance of that pleasure!
And I implore the same gods, you are my witness, to make all these who
think me deserving of imitation far better than I am, Farewell.
LXIV -- To ROMANUS
You were not present at a very singular occurrence here lately: neither
was I, but the story reached me just after it had happened. Passienus
Paulus, a Roman knight, of good family, and a man of peculiar learning
and culture besides, composes elegies, a talent which runs in the
family, for Propertius is reckoned by him amongst his ancestors, as well
as being his countryman. He was lately reciting a poem which began thus:
"Priscus, at thy command"--
Whereupon Javolenus 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 laughter and merriment this occasioned. Priscus's wits,
you must know, are reckoned rather unsound,[91] though he takes a share
in public business, is summoned to consultations, and even publicly acts
as a lawyer, so that this behaviour of his was the more remarkable and
ridiculous: meanwhile Paulus was a good deal disconcerted by his
friend's absurdity. You see how necessary it is for those who are
anxious to recite their works in public to take care that the audience
as well as the author are perfectly sane. Farewell.
LXV -- To TACITUS