travels are often overlooked and neglected if they lie within our reach:
whether it be that we are naturally less inquisitive concerning those
things which are near us, while our curiosity is excited by remote
objects; or because the easiness of gratifying a desire is always sure
to damp it; or, perhaps, that we put off from time to time going and
seeing what we know we have an opportunity of seeing when we please.
Whatever the reason be, it is certain there are numberless curiosities
in and near Rome which we have not only never seen, but even never so
much as heard of: and yet had they been the produce of Greece, or Egypt,
or Asia, or any other country which we admire as fertile and productive
of belief in wonders, we should long since have heard of them, read of
them, and enquired into them. For myself at least, I confess, I have
lately been entertained with one of these curiosities, to which I was an
entire stranger before. My wife's grandfather desired I would look over
his estate near Ameria.[131] As I was walking over his grounds, 1 was
shown a lake that lies below them, called Vadirnon,[132] about which
several very extraordinary things are told. I went up to this lake. It
is perfectly circular in form, like a wheel lying on the ground; there
is not the least curve or projection of the shore, but all is regular,
even, and just as if it had been hollowed and cut out by the hand of
art. The water is of a clear sky-blue, though with somewhat of a
greenish tinge; its smell is sulphurous, and its flavour has medicinal
properties, and is deemed of great efficacy in all fractures of the
limbs, which it is supposed to heal. Though of but moderate extent, yet
the winds have a great effect upon it, throwing it into violent
agitation. No vessels are suffered to sail here, as its waters are held
sacred; but several floating islands swim about it, covered with reeds
and rushes, and with whatever other plants the surrounding marshy ground
and the edge itself of the lake produce in greater abundance. Each
island has its peculiar shape and size, but the edges of all of them are
worn away by their frequent collision with the shore and one another.
They are all of the same height and motion; as their respective roots,
which are formed like the keel of a boat, may be seen hanging not very
far down in the water, and at an equal depth, on whichever side you
stand. Sometimes they move in a cluster, and seem to form one entire
little continent; sometimes they are dispersed into different quarters
by the wind; at other times, when it is calm, they float up and down
separately. You may frequently see one of the larger islands sailing
along with a lesser joined to it, like a ship with its long boat; or,
perhaps, seeming to strive which shall out-swim the other: then again
they are all driven to the same spot, and by joining themselves to the
shore, sometimes on one side and sometimes on the other, lessen or
restore the size of the lake in this part or that, accordingly, till at
last uniting in the centre they restore it to its usual size. The sheep
which graze upon the borders of this lake frequently go upon these
islands to feed, without perceiving that they have left the shore, until
they are alarmed by finding themselves surrounded with water; as though
they had been forcibly conveyed and placed there. Afterwards, when the
wind drives them back again, they as little perceive their return as
their departure. This lake empties itself into a river, which, after
running a little way, sinks under ground, and, if anything is thrown in,
it brings it up again where the stream emerges.--I have given you this
account because I imagined it would not be less new, nor less agreeable,
to you than it was to me; as I know you take the same pleasure as myself
in contemplating the works of nature. Farewell.
XCIV -- To ARRIANUS
NOTHING, in my opinion, gives a more amiable and becoming grace to our
studies, as well as manners, than to temper the serious with the gay,
lest the former should degenerate into melancholy, and the latter run up
into levity. Upon this plan it is that I diversify my graver works with
compositions of a lighter nature. I had chosen a convenient place and
season for some productions of that sort to make their appearance in;
and designing to accustom them early to the tables of the idle, I fixed
upon the month of July, which is usually a time of vacation to the
courts of justice, in order to read them to some of my friends I had
collected together; and accordingly I placed a desk before each couch.
But as I happened that morning to be unexpectedly called away to attend
a cause, I took occasion to preface my recital with an apology. I
entreated my audience not to impute it to me as any want of due regard
for the business to which I had invited them that on the very day I had
appointed for reading my performances to a small circle of my friends I
did not refuse my services to others in their law affairs. I assured
them I would observe the same rule in my writings, and should always
give the preference to business, before pleasure; to serious engagements
before amusing ones; and to my friends before myself. The poems I
recited consisted of a variety of subjects in different metres. It is
thus that we who dare not rely for much upon our abilities endeavour to
avoid satiating our readers. In compliance with the earnest solicitation
of my audience, I recited for two days successively; but not in the
manner that several practise, by passing over the feebler passages, and
making a merit of so doing: on the contrary, I omitted nothing, and
freely confessed it. I read the whole, that I might correct the whole;
which it is impossible those who only select particular passages can do.
The latter method, indeed, may have more the appearance of modesty, and
perhaps respect; but the former shows greater simplicity, as well as a
more affectionate disposition towards the audience. For the belief that
a man's friends have so much regard for him as not to be weary on these
occasions, is a sure indication of the love he bears them. Otherwise,
what good do friends do you who assemble merely for their own amusement?
He who had rather find his friend's performance correct, than make it
so, is to be regarded as a stranger, or one who is too lackadaisical to
give himself any trouble. Your affection for me leaves me no room to
doubt that you are impatient to read my book, even in its present very
imperfect condition. And so you shall, but not until I have made those
corrections which were the principal inducement of my recital. You are
already acquainted with some parts of it; but even those, after they
have been improved (or perhaps spoiled, as is sometimes the case by the
delay of excessive revision) will seem quite new to you. For when a
piece has undergone various changes, it gets to look new, even in those
very parts which remain unaltered. Farewell.
XCV -- To MAXIMUS
My affection for you obliges me, not indeed to direct you (for you are
far above the want of a guide), but to admonish you carefully to observe
and resolutely to put in practice what you already know, that is, in
other words, to know it to better purpose. Consider that you are sent to
that noble province, Achaia, the real and genuine Greece, where
politeness, learning, and even agriculture itself, are supposed to have
taken their first rise; sent to regulate the condition of free cities;
sent, that is, to a society of men who breathe the spirit of true
manhood and liberty; who have maintained the rights they received from
Nature, by courage, by virtue, by alliances; in a word, by civil and
religious faith. Revere the gods their founders; their ancient glory,
and even that very antiquity itself which, venerable in men, is sacred
in states. Honour them therefore for their deeds of old renown, nay,
their very legendary traditions. Grant to every one his full dignity,
privileges, yes, and the indulgence of his very vanity. Remember it was
from this nation we derived our laws; that she did not receive ours by
conquest, but gave us hers by favour. Remember, it is Athens to which
you go; it is Lacedaemon you govern; and to deprive such a people of the
declining shadow, the remaining name of liberty, would be cruel,
inhuman, barbarous. Physicians, you see, though in sickness there is no
difference between freedom and slavery, yet treat persons of the former
rank with more tenderness than those of the latter. Reflect what these
cities once were; but so reflect as not to despise them for what they
are now. Far be pride and asperity from my friend; nor fear, by a proper
condescension, to lay yourself open to contempt. Can he who is vested
with the power and bears the ensigns of authority, can he fail of
meeting with respect, unless by pursuing base and sordid measures, and
first breaking through that reverence he owes to himself? Ill, believe
me, is power proved by insult; ill can terror command veneration, and
far more effectual is affection in obtaining one's purpose than fear.
For terror operates no longer than its object is present, but love
produces its effects with its object at a distance: and as absence
changes the former into hatred, it raises the latter into respect. And
therefore you ought (and I cannot but repeat it too often), you ought to
well consider the nature of your office, and to represent to yourself
how great and important the task is of governing a free state. For what
can be better for society than such government, what can be more
precious than freedom? How ignominious then must his conduct be who
turns good government into anarchy, and liberty into slavery? To these
considerations let me add, that you have an established reputation to
maintain: the fame you acquired by the administration of the
quaestorship in Bithynia,[133] the good opinion of the emperor, the
credit you obtained when you were tribune and praetor, in a word, this
very government, which may be looked upon as the reward of your former
services, are all so many glorious weights which are incumbent upon you
to support with suitable dignity. The more strenuously therefore you
ought to endeavour that it may not be said you showed greater urbanity,
integrity, and ability in a province remote from Rome, than in one which
lies so much nearer the capital; in the midst of a nation of slaves,
than among a free people; that it may not be remarked, that it was
chance, and not judgment, appointed you to this office; that your
character was unknown and unexperienced, not tried and approved. For
(and it is a maxim which your reading and conversation must have often
suggested to you) it is a far greater disgrace losing the name one has
once acquired than never to have attained it. I again beg you to be
persuaded that I did not write this letter with a design of instruction,
but of reminder. Though indeed, if I had, it would have only been in
consequence of the great affection I bear you: a sentiment which I am in
no fear of carrying beyond its just bounds: for there can be no danger
of excess where one cannot love too well. Farewell.
XCVI -- To PAULINUS
OTHERS may think as they please; but the happiest man, in my opinion, is
he who lives in the conscious anticipation of an honest and enduring
name, and secure of future glory in the eyes of posterity. I confess, if
I had not the reward of an immortal reputation in view, I should prefer
a life of uninterrupted ease and indolent retirement to any other. There
seems to be two points worthy every man's attention: endless fame, or
the short duration of life. Those who are actuated by the former motive
ought to exert themselves to the very utmost of their power; while such
as are influenced by the latter should quietly resign themselves to
repose, and not wear out a short life in perishable pursuits, as we see
so many doing--and then sink at last into utter self-contempt, in the
midst of a wretched and fruitless course of false industry. These are my
daily reflections, which I communicate to you, in order to renounce them
if you do not agree with them; as undoubtedly you will, who are for ever
meditating some glorious and immortal enterprise. Farewell.
XCVII -- To CALVISIUS
I HAVE spent these several days past, in reading and writing, with the
most pleasing tranquillity imaginable. You will ask, "How that can
possibly be in the midst of Rome?" It was the time of celebrating the
Circensian games; an entertainment for which I have not the least taste.
They have no novelty, no variety to recommend them, nothing, in short,
one would wish to see twice. It does the more surprise me therefore that
so many thousand people should be possessed with the childish passion of
desiring so often to see a parcel of horses gallop, and men standing
upright in their chariots. If, indeed, it were the swiftness of the
horses, or the skill of the men that attracted them, there might be some
pretence of reason for it. But it is the dress[134] they like; it is the
dress that takes their fancy. And if, in the midst of the course and
contest, the different parties were to change colours, their different
partisans would change sides, and instantly desert the very same men and
horses whom just before they were eagerly following with their eyes, as
far as they could see, and shouting out their names with all their
might. Such mighty charms, such wondrous power reside in the colour of a
paltry tunic! And this not only with the common crowd (more contemptible
than the dress they espouse), but even with serious-thinking people.
When I observe such men thus insatiably fond of so silly, so low, so
uninteresting, so common an entertainment, I congratulate myself on my
indifference to these pleasures: and am glad to employ the leisure of
this season upon my books, which others throw away upon the most idle
occupations. Farewell.
XCVIII -- To ROMANUS
I AM pleased to find by your letter that you are engaged in building;
for I may now defend my own conduct by your example. I am myself
employed in the same sort of work; and since I have you, who shall deny
I have reason on my side? Our situations too are not dissimilar; your
buildings are carried on upon the sea-coast, mine are rising upon the
side of the Larian lake. I have several villas upon the borders of this
lake, but there are two particularly in which, as I take most delight,
so they give me most employment. They are both situated like those at
Baiae:[135] one of them stands upon a rock, and overlooks the lake; the
other actually touches it. The first, supported as it were by the lofty
buskin,[136] I call my tragic; the other, as resting upon the humble
rock, my comic villa. Each has its own peculiar charm, recommending it
to its possessor so much more on account of this very difference. The
former commands a wider, the latter enjoys a nearer view of the lake.
One, by a gentle curve, embraces a little bay; the other, being built
upon a greater height, forms two. Here you have a strait walk extending
itself along the banks of the lake; there, a spacious terrace that falls
by a gentle descent towards it. The former does not feel the force of
the waves; the latter breaks them; from that you see the fishing-
vessels; from this you may fish yourself, and throw your line out of
your room, and almost from your bed, as from off a boat. It is the
beauties therefore these agreeable villas possess that tempt me to add
to them those which are wanting.--But I need not assign a reason to you;
who, undoubtedly, will think it a sufficient one that I follow your
example. Farewell.
XCIX -- To GEMINUS
YOUR letter was particularly acceptable to me, as it mentioned your
desire that I would send you something of mine, addressed to you, to
insert in your works. I shall find a more appropriate occasion of
complying with your request than that which you propose, the subject you
point out to me being attended with some objections; and when you
reconsider it, you will think so.--As I did not imagine there were any
booksellers at Lugdunum,[137] I am so much the more pleased to learn
that my works are sold there. I rejoice to find they maintain the
character abroad which they raised at home, and I begin to flatter
myself they have some merit, since persons of such distant countries are
agreed in their opinion with regard to them. Farewell.
C -- To JUNIOR
A CERTAIN friend of mine lately chastised his son, in my presence, for
being somewhat too expensive in the matter of dogs and horses. "And
pray," I asked him, when the youth had left us, "did you never commit a
fault yourself which deserved your father's correction? Did you never? I
repeat. Nay, are you not sometimes even now guilty of errors which your
son, were he in your place, might with equal gravity reprove? Are not
all mankind subject to indiscretions? And have we not each of us our
particular follies in which we fondly indulge ourselves?"[138]
The great affection I have for you induced me to set this instance of
unreasonable severity before you--a caution not to treat your son with
too much harshness and severity. Consider, he is but a boy, and that
there was a time when you were so too. In exerting, therefore, the
authority of a father, remember always that you are a man, and the
parent of a man. Farewell.
CI -- To QUADRATUS
THE pleasure and attention with which you read the vindication I
published of Helvidius,[139] has greatly raised your curiosity, it
seems, to be informed of those particulars relating to that affair,
which are not mentioned in the defence; as you were too young to be
present yourself at that transaction. When Domitian was assassinated, a
glorious opportunity, I thought, offered itself to me of pursuing the
guilty, vindicating the injured, and advancing my own reputation. But
amidst an infinite variety of the blackest crimes, none appeared to me
more atrocious than that a senator, of praetorian dignity, and invested
with the sacred character of a judge, should, even in the very senate
itself, lay violent hands upon a member[140] of that body, one of
consular rank, and who then stood arraigned before him. Besides this
general consideration, I also happened to be on terms of particular
intimacy with Helvidius, as far as this was possible with one who,
through fear of the times, endeavoured to veil the lustre of his fame,
and his virtues, in obscurity and retirement. Arria likewise, and her
daughter Fannia, who was mother-in-law to Helvidius, were in the number
of my friends. But it was not so much private attachments as the honour
of the public, a just indignation at the action, and the danger of the
example if it should pass unpunished, that animated me upon the
occasion. At the first restoration of liberty every man singled out his
own particular enemy (though it must be confessed, those only of a lower
rank), and, in the midst of much clamour and confusion, no sooner
brought the charge than procured the condemnation. But for myself, I
thought it would be more reasonable and more effectual, not to take
advantage of the general resentment of the public, but to crush this
criminal with the single weight of his own enormous guilt. When
therefore the first heat of public indignation began to cool, and
declining passion gave way to justice, though I was at that time under
great affliction for the loss of my wife,[142] I sent to Anteia, the
widow of Helvidius, and desired her to come to me, as my late misfortune
prevented me from appearing in public. When she arrived, I said to her,
"I am resolved not to suffer the injuries your husband has received, to
pass unrevenged; let Arria and Fannia" (who were just returned from
exile) "know this; and consider together whether you would care to join
with me in the prosecution. Not that I want an associate, but I am not
so jealous of my own glory as to refuse to share it with you in this
affair." She accordingly carried this message; and they all agreed to
the proposal without the least hesitation. It happened very opportunely
that the senate was to meet within three days. It was a general rule
with me to consult, in all my affairs, with Corellius, a person of the
greatest far-sightedness and wisdom this age has produced. However, in
the present case, I relied entirely upon my own discretion, being
apprehensive he would not approve of my design, as he was very cautious
and deliberate. But though I did not previously take counsel with him
(experience having taught me, never to do so with a person concerning a
question we have already determined, where he has a right to expect that
one shall be decided by his judgment), yet I could not forbear
acquainting him with my resolution at the time I intended to carry it
into execution. The senate being assembled, I came into the house, and
begged I might have leave to make a motion; which I did in few words,
and with general assent. When I began to touch upon the charge, and
point out the person I intended to accuse (though as yet without
mentioning him by name), I was attacked on all sides. "Let us know,"
exclaims one, "who is the subject of this informal motion?" "Who is it,"
(asked another) "that is thus accused, without acquainting the house
with his name, and his crime?" "Surely," (added a third) "we who have
survived the late dangerous times may expect now, at least, to remain in
security." I heard all this with perfect calmness, and without being in
the least alarmed. Such is the effect of conscious integrity; and so
much difference is there with respect to inspiring confidence or fear,
whether the world had only rather one should forbear a certain act, or
absolutely condemn it. It would be too tedious to relate all that was
advanced, by different parties, upon this occasion. At length the consul
said, "You will be at liberty, Secundus, to propose what you think
proper when your turn comes to give your opinion upon the order of the
day."[143] I replied, "You must allow me a liberty which you never yet
refused to any;" and so sat down: when immediately the house went upon
another business. In the meanwhile, one of my consular friends took me
aside, and, with great earnestness telling me he thought I had carried
on this affair with more boldness than prudence, used every method of
reproof and persuasion to prevail with me to desist; adding at the same
time that I should certainly, if I persevered, render myself obnoxious
to some future prince. "Be it so," I returned, "should he prove a bad
one." Scarcely had he left me when a second came up: "Whatever," said
he, "are you attempting? Why ever will you ruin yourself? Do you
consider the risks you expose yourself to? Why will you presume too much
on the present situation of public affairs, when it is so uncertain what
turn they may hereafter take? You are attacking a man who is actually at
the head of the treasury, and will shortly be consul. Besides, recollect
what credit he has, and with what powerful friendships he is supported?"
Upon which he named a certain person, who (not without several strong
and suspicious rumours) was then at the head of a powerful army in the
east. I replied,
"'All I've foreseen, and oft in thought revolv'd;[144] and am willing,
if fate shall so decree, to suffer in an honest cause, provided I can
draw vengeance down upon a most infamous one." The time for the members
to give their opinions was now arrived. Domitius Apollinaris, the consul
elect, spoke first; after him Fabricius Vejento, then Fabius Maximinus,
Vettius Proculus next (who married my wife's mother, and who was the
colleague of Publicius Certus, the person on whom the debate turned),
and last of all Ammius Flaccus. They all defended Certus, as if I had
named him (though I had not yet so much as once mentioned him), and
entered upon his justification as if I had exhibited a specific charge.
It is not necessary to repeat in this place what they respectively said,
having given it all at length in their words in the speech above-
mentioned. Avidius Quietus and Cornutus Tertullus answered them. The
former observed, "that it was extremely unjust not to hear the
complaints of those who thought themselves injured, and therefore that
Arria and Fannia ought not to be denied the privilege of laying their
grievances before the house; and that the point for the consideration of
the senate was not the rank of the person, but the merit of the cause."