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General LettersPart IX
Part IX
LXXI
To Cornelianus
I received lately the most exquisite satisfaction at Centumcellae^2 (as
it is now called), being summoned thither by Caesar^3 to attend a council.
Could anything indeed afford a higher pleasure than to see the emperor
exercising his justice, his wisdom, and his affability, even in retirement,
where those virtues are most observable? Various were the points brought in
judgment before him, and which proved, in so many different instances, the
excellence of the judge. The cause of Claudius Ariston came on first. He is an
Ephesian nobleman, of great munificence and unambitious popularity, whose
virtues have rendered him obnoxious to a set of people of far different
characters; they had instigated an informer against him, of the same infamous
stamp with themselves; but he was honourably acquitted. The next day, the case
of Galitta, accused of adultery, was heard. Her husband, who is a military
tribune, was upon the point of offering himself as a candidate for certain
honours at Rome, but she had stained her own good name and his by an intrigue
with a centurion.^4 The husband informed the consul`s lieutenant, who wrote to
the emperor about it. Caesar, having thoroughly sifted the evidence, cashiered
the centurion, and sentenced him to banishment. It remained that some penalty
should be inflicted likewise upon the other party, as it is a crime of which
both must necessarily by equally guilty. But the husband`s affection for his
wife inclined him to drop that part of the prosecution, not without some
reflections on his forbearance; for he continued to live with her even after
he had commenced this prosecution, content, it would seem, with having removed
his rival. But he was ordered to proceed in the suit; and, though he complied
with great reluctance, it was necessary, nevertheless, that she should be
condemned. Accordingly, she was sentenced to the punishment directed by the
Julian law.^5 The emperor thought proper to specify, in his decree, the name
and office of the centurion, that it might appear he passed it in virtue of
military discipline; lest it should be imagined he claimed a particular
cognizance in every cause of the same nature. The third day was employed in
examining into an affair which had occasioned a good deal of talk and various
reports; it was concerning the codicils of Julius Tiro, part of which was
plainly genuine, while the other part, it was alleged, was forged. The persons
accused of this fraud were Sempronius Senecio, a Roman knight, and Eurythmus,
Caesar`s freedman and procurator.^6 The heirs jointly petitioned the emperor,
when he was in Dacia,^7 that he would reserve to himself the trial of this
cause; to which he consented. On his return from that expedition, he appointed
a day for the hearing; and when some of the heirs, as though out of respect to
Eurythmus, offered to withdraw the suit, the emperor nobly replied, "He is not
Polycletus,^8 nor am I Nero." However, he indulged the petitioners with an
adjournment, and the time being expired, he now sat to hear the cause. Two of
the heirs appeared, and desired that either their whole number might be
compelled to plead, as they had all joined in the information, or that they
also might have leave to withdraw. Caesar delivered his opinion with great
dignity and moderation; and when the counsel on the part of Senecio and
Eurythmus had represented that unless their clients were heard, they would
remain under the suspicion of guilt, - "I am not concerned," said the emperor,
"what suspicions they may lie under, it is I that am suspected"; and then
turning to us, "Advise me," said he, "how to act in this affair, for you see
they complain when allowed to withdraw their suit." At length, by the advice
of the counsel, he ordered notice to be given to the heirs that they should
either proceed with the case or each of them justify their reasons for not
doing so; otherwise that he would pass sentence upon them as calumniators.^9
Thus you see how usefully and seriously we spent our time, which, however, was
diversified with amusements of the most agreeable kind. We were every day
invited to Caesar`s table, which, for so great a prince, was spread with much
plainness and simplicity. There we were either entertained with interludes or
passed the night in the most pleasing conversation. When we took our leave of
him the last day, he made each of us presents; so studiously polite is Caesar!
As for myself, I was not only charmed with the dignity and wisdom of the
judge, the honour done to the assessors, the ease and unreserved freedom of
our social intercourse, but with the exquisite situation of the place itself.
This delightful villa is surrounded by the greenest meadows, and overlooks the
shore, which bends inwards, forming a complete harbour. The left arm of this
port is defended by exceedingly strong works, while the right is in process of
completion. An artificial island, which rises at the mouth of the harbour,
breaks the force of the waves, and affords a safe passage to ships on either
side. This island is formed by a process worth seeing: stones of a most
enormous size are transported hither in a large sort of pontoons and, being
piled one upon the other, are fixed by their own weight, gradually
accumulating in the manner, as it were, of a natural mound. It already lifts
its rocky back above the ocean, while the waves which beat upon it, being
broken and tossed to an immense height, foam with a prodigious noise, and
whiten all the surrounding sea. To these stones are added wooden piers, which
in process of time will give it the appearance of a natural island. This haven
is to be called by the name of its great author^10, and will prove of infinite
benefit, by affording a secure retreat to ships on that extensive and
dangerous coast. Farewell.
[Footnote 2: Civita Vecchia.]
[Footnote 3: Trajan.]
[Footnote 4: An officer in the Roman legions, answering in some sort to a
captain in our companies. M.]
[Footnote 5: This law was made by Augustus Caesar; but it nowhere clearly
appears what was the peculiar punishment it inflicted. M.]
[Footnote 6: An officer employed by the emperor to receive and regulate the
public revenue in the provinces. M.]
[Footnote 7: Comprehending Transylvania, Moldavia, and Walachia. M.]
[Footnote 8: Polycletus was a freedman, and great favourite of Nero. M.]
[Footnote 9: Memmius, or Rhemmius (the critics are not agreed which), was
author of a law by which it was enacted that whosoever was convicted to
calumny and false accusation should be stigmatized with a mark in his
forehead; and by the law of the twelve tables, false accusers were to suffer
the same punishment as would have been inflicted upon the person unjustly
accused if the crime had been proved. M.]
[Footnote 10: Trajan.]
LXXII
To Maximus
You did perfectly right in promising a gladiatorial combat to our good
friends the citizens of Verona, who have long loved, looked up to, and
honoured you; while it was from that city too you received that amiable object
of your most tender affection, your late excellent wife. And since you owed
some monument or public representation to her memory, what other spectacle
could you have exhibited more appropriate to the occasion? Besides, you were
so unanimously pressed to do so that to have refused would have looked more
like hardness than resolution. The readiness too with which you granted their
petition, and the magnificent manner in which you performed it, is very much
to your honour; for a greatness of soul is seen in these smaller instances, as
well as in matters of higher moment. I wish the African panthers, which you
had largely provided for this purpose, had arrived on the day appointed, but
though they were delayed by the stormy weather, the obligation to you is
equally the same, since it was not your fault that they were not exhibited.
Farewell.
LXXIII
To Restitutus
This obstinate illness of yours alarms me; and though I know how
extremely temperate you are, yet I fear lest your disease should get the
better of your moderation. Let me entreat you then to resist it with a
determined abstemiousness: a remedy, be assured, of all others the most
laudable as well as the most salutary. Human nature itself admits the
practicability of what I recommend: it is a rule, at least, which I always
enjoin my family to observe with respect to myself. "I hope," I say to them,
"that should I be attacked with any disorder, I shall desire nothing of which
I ought either to be ashamed or have reason to repent; however, if my
distemper should prevail over my resolution, I forbid that anything be given
me but by the consent of my physicians; and I shall resent your compliance
with me in things improper as much as another man would their refusal." I once
had a most violent fever; when the fit was a little abated, and I had been
anointed,^1 my physician offered me something to drink; I held out my hand,
desiring he would first feel my pulse, and upon his not seeming quite
satisfied, I instantly returned the cup, though it was just at my lips.
Afterwards, when I was preparing to go into the bath, twenty days from the
first attack of my illness, perceiving the physicians whispering together, I
enquired what they were saying. They replied they were of opinion I might
possibly bathe with safety; however, that they were not without some suspicion
of risk. "What need is there," said I, "of my taking a bath at all?" And so,
with perfect calmness and tranquillity, I gave up a pleasure I was upon the
point of enjoying, and abstained from the bath as serenely and composedly as
though I were going into it. I mention this, not only by way of enforcing my
advice by example, but also that this letter may be a sort of tie upon me
to persevere in the same resolute abstinence for the future. Farewell.
[Footnote 1: Unction was much esteemed and prescribed by the ancients. Celsus
expressly recommends it in the remission of acute distempers: "ungi leniter
que pertractari corpus, etiam in acutis et recentibus morbis oportet; in
remissione tamen," &c. Celci Med. ed. Almeloveen p. 88. M.]
LXXIV
To Calpurnia^2
[Footnote 2: His wife.]
You will not believe what a longing for you possesses me. The chief cause
of this is my love; and then we have not grown used to be apart. So it comes
to pass that I lie awake a great part of the night, thinking of you; and that
by day, when the hours return at which I was wont to visit you, my feet take
me, as it is so truly said, to your chamber, but not finding you there I
return, sick and sad at heart, like an excluded lover. The only time that is
free from these torments is when I am being worn out at the bar, and in the
suits of my friends. Judge you what must be my life when I find my repose in
toil, my solace in wretchedness and anxiety. Farewell.
LXXV
To Macrinus
A very singular and remarkable accident has happened in the affair of
Varenus, the result of which is yet doubtful. The Bithynians, it is said, have
dropped their prosecution of him, being convinced at last that it was rashly
undertaken. A deputy from that province is arrived, who has brought with him a
decree of their assembly; copies of which he has delivered to Caesar,^1 and to
several of the leading men in Rome, and also to us, the advocates for Varenus.
Magnus,^2 nevertheless, whom I mentioned in my last letter to you, persists in
his charge, to support which he is incessantly teasing the worthy Nigrinus.
This excellent person was counsel for him in his former petition to the
consuls, that Varenus might be compelled to produce his accounts. Upon this
occasion, as I attended Varenus merely as a friend, I determined to be silent.
I thought it highly imprudent for me, as I was appointed his counsel by the
senate, to attempt to defend him as an accused person, when it was his
business to insist that there was actually no charge subsisting against him.
However, when Nigrinus had finished his speech, the consuls turning their eyes
upon me, I rose up, and "When you shall hear," I said, "what the real deputies
from the province have to object against the motion of Nigrinus, you will see
that my silence was not without just reason." Upon this Nigrinus asked me, "To
whom are these deputies sent?" I replied, "To me among others; I have the
decree of the province in my hands." He returned, "That is a point which,
though it may be clear to you, I am not so well satisfied of." To this I
answered, "Though it may not be so evident to you, who are concerned to
support the accusation, it may be perfectly clear to me, who am on the more
favourable side." Then Polyaenus, the deputy from the province, acquainted the
senate with the reasons for superseding the prosecution, but desired it might
be without prejudice to Caesar`s determination. Magnus answered him; Polyaenus
replied; as for myself I only now and then threw in a word, observing in
general a complete silence. For I have learned that upon some occasions it is
as much an orator`s business to be silent as to speak, and I remember, in some
criminal cases, to have done even more service to my clients by a discreet
silence than I could have expected from the most carefully prepared speech. To
enter into the subject of eloquence is indeed very foreign to the purpose of
my letter, yet allow me to give you one instance in proof of my last
observation. A certain lady, having lost her son, suspected that his freedmen,
whom he had appointed coheirs with her, were guilty ofnforging the will and
poisoning him. Accordingly she charged them with the fact before the emperor,
who directed Julianus Suburanus to try the cause. I was counsel for the
defendants, and the case being exceedingly remarkable, and the counsel engaged
on both sides of eminent ability, it drew together a very numerous audience.
The issue was, the servants being put to the torture, my clients were
acquitted. But the mother applied a second time to the emperor, pretending she
had discovered some new evidence. Suburanus was therefore directed to hear the
cause, and see if she could produce any fresh proofs. Julius Africanus was
counsel for the mother, a young man of good parts, but slender experience. He
is grandson to the famous orator of that name, of whom it is reported that
Passienus Crispus, hearing him one day plead, archly said, "Very fine, I must
confess, very fine; but is all this fine speaking to the purpose?" Julius
Africanus, I say, having made a long harangue, and exhausted the portion of
time allotted to him, said, "I beg you, Suburanus, to allow me to add one word
more." When he had concluded, and the eyes of the whole assembly had been
fixed a considerable time upon me, I rose up. "I would have answered
Africanus," said I, "if he had added that one word he begged leave to do, in
which I doubt not he would have told us all that we had not heard before." I
do not remember to have gained so much applause by any speech that I ever made
as I did in this instance by making none. Thus the little that I had hitherto
said for Varenus was received with the same general approbation. The consuls,
agreeably to the request of Polyaenus, reserved the whole affair for the
determination of the emperor, whose resolution I impatiently wait for; as that
will decide whether I may be entirely secure and easy with respect to Varenus,
or must again renew all my trouble and anxiety upon his account. Farewell.
[Footnote 1: Trajan.]
[Footnote 2: One of the Bithynians employed to manage the trial. M.]
LXXVI
To Tuscus
You desire my opinion as to the method of study you should pursue, in
that retirement to which you have long since withdrawn. In the first place,
then, I look upon it as a very advantageous practice (and it is what many
recommend) to translate either from Greek into Latin or from Latin into Greek.
By this means you acquire propriety and dignity of expression, and a variety
of beautiful figures, and an ease and strength of exposition, and in the
imitation of the best models a facility of creating such models for yourself.
Besides, those things which you may possibly have overlooked in an ordinary
reading over cannot escape you in translating: and this method will also
enlarge your knowledge, and improve your judgment. It may not be amiss, after
you have read an author, to turn, as it were, to his rival, and attempt
something of your own upon the same topic, and then make a careful comparison
between your performance and his, in order to see in what points either you or
he may be the happier. You may congratulate yourself indeed if you shall find
in some things that you have the advantage of him, while it will be a great
mortification if he is always superior. You may sometimes select very famous
passages and compete with what you select. The competition is daring enough,
but, as it is private, cannot be called impudent. Not but that we have seen
instances of persons who have publicly entered this sort of lists with great
credit to themselves, and, while they did not despair of overtaking, have
gloriously outstripped those whom they thought it sufficient honour to follow.
A speech no longer fresh in your memory, you may take up again. You will find
plenty in it to leave unaltered, but still more to reject; you will add a new
thought here, and alter another there. It is a laborious and tedious task, I
own, thus to re-enflame the mind after the first heat is over, to recover an
impulse when its force has been checked and spent, and, worse than all, to put
new limbs into a body already complete without disturbing the old; but the
advantage attending this method will overbalance the difficulty. I know the
bent of your present attention is directed towards the eloquence of the bar;
but I would not for that reason advise you never to quit the polemic, if I may
so call it, and contentious style. As land is improved by sowing it with
various seeds, constantly changed, so is the mind by exercising it now with
this subject of study, now with that. I would recommend you, therefore,
sometimes to take a subject from history, and you might give more care to the
composition of your letters. For it frequently happens that in pleading one
has occasion to make use not only of historical, but even poetical, styles of
description; and then from letters you acquire a concise and simple mode of
expression. You will do quite right again in refreshing yourself with poetry:
when I say so, I do not mean that species of poetry which turns upon subjects
of great length and continuity (such being suitable only for persons of
leisure), but those little pieces of the sprightly kind of poesy, which serve
as proper reliefs to, and are consistent with, employments of every sort. They
commonly go under the title of poetical amusements; but these amusements have
sometimes gained their authors as much reputation as works of a more serious
nature; and thus (for while I am exhorting you to poetry, why should I not
turn poet myself?),
"As yielding wax the artist`s skill commands,
Submissive shap`d beneath his forming hands;
Now dreadful stands in arms a Mars confest;
Or now with Venus` softer air imprest;
A wanton Cupid now the mould belies;
Now shines, severely chaste, a Pallas wife:
As not alone to quench the raging flame,
The sacred fountain pours her friendly stream;
But sweetly gliding through the flow`ry green,
Spreads glad refreshment o`er the smiling scene:
So, form`d by science, should the ductile mind
Receive, distinct, each various art refin`d."
In this manner the greatest men, as well as the greatest orators, used either
to exercise or amuse themselves, or rather indeed did both. It is surprising
how much the mind is enlivened and refreshed by these little poetical
compositions, as they turn upon love, hatred, satire, tenderness, politeness,
and everything, in short, that concerns life and the affairs of the world.
Besides, the same advantage attends these, as every other sort of poems, that
we turn from them to prose with so much the more pleasure after having
experienced the difficulty of being constrained and fettered by metre. And
now, perhaps, I have troubled you upon this subject longer than you desired;
however, there is one thing I have left out: I have not told you what kind of
authors you should read; though indeed that was sufficiently implied when I
told you on what you should write. Remember to be careful in your choice of
authors of every kind: for, as it has been well observed, "though we should
read much, we should not read many books." Who those authors are, is so
clearly settled, and so generally known, that I need not particularly specify
them; besides, I have already extended this letter to such an immoderate
length that, while suggesting how you ought to study, I have, I fear, been
actually interrupting your studies. I will here resign you therefore to your
tablets, either to resume the studies in which you were before engaged or to
enter upon some of those I have recommended. Farewell.
LXXVII
To Fabatus (His Wife`s Grandfather)
You are surprised, I find, that my share of five-twelfths of the estate
which lately fell to me, and which I had directed to be sold to the best
bidder, should have been disposed of by my freedman Hermes to Corellia
(without putting it up to auction) at the rate of seven hundred thousand
sesterces^1 for the whole. And as you think it might have fetched nine hundred
thousand,^2 you are so much the more desirous to know whether I am inclined to
ratify what he has done. I am; and listen, while I tell you why, for I hope
that not only you will approve, but also that my fellow-coheirs will excuse
me for having, upon a motive of superior obligation, separated my interest
from theirs. I have the highest esteem for Corellia, both as the sister of
Rufus, whose memory will always be a sacred one to me, and as my mother`s
intimate friend. Besides, that excellent man, Minutius Tuscus, her husband,
has every claim to my affection that a long friendship can give him; as there
was likewise the closest intimacy between her son and me, so much so indeed
that I fixed upon him to preside at the games which I exhibited when I was
elected praetor. This lady, when I was last in the country, expressed a strong
desire for some place upon the borders of our lake of Comum; I therefore made
her an offer, at her own price, of any part of my land there, except what came
to me from my father and mother; for that I could not consent to part with,
even to Corellia, and accordingly when the inheritance in question fell to me,
I wrote to let her know it was to be sold. This letter I sent by Hermes, who,
upon her requesting him that he would immediately make over to her my
proportion of it, consented. Am I not then obliged to confirm what my freedman
has thus done in pursuance of my inclinations? I have only to entreat my
fellow-coheirs that they will not take it ill at my hands that I have made a
separate sale of what I had certainly a right to dispose of. They are not
bound in any way to follow my example, since they have not the same
connections with Corellia. They are at full liberty therefore to be guided by
interest, which in my own case I chose to sacrifice to friendship. Farewell.
[Footnote 1: About $28,000.]
[Footnote 2: About $36,000.]
LXXVIII
To Corellia
You are truly generous to desire and insist that I take for my share of
the estate you purchased of me, not after the rate of seven hundred thousand
sesterces for the whole, as my freedman sold it to you; but in the proportion
of nine hundred thousand, agreeably to what you gave to the farmers of the
twentieths for their part. But I must desire and insist in my turn that you
would consider not only what is suitable to your character, but what is worthy
of mine; and that you would suffer me to oppose your inclination in this
single instance, with the same warmth that I obey it in all others. Farewell.
LXXIX
To Celer
Every author has his particular reasons for reciting his works; mine, I
have often said, are, in order, if any error should have escaped my own
observation (as no doubt they do escape it sometimes), to have it pointed out
to me. I cannot therefore but be surprised to find (what your letter assures
me) that there are some who blame me for reciting my speeches: unless,
perhaps, they are of opinion that this is the single species of composition
that ought to be held exempt from any correction. If so, I would willingly ask
them why they allow (if indeed they do allow) that history may be recited,
since it is a work which ought to be devoted to truth, not ostentation? or why
tragedy, as it is composed for action and the stage, not for being read to a
private audience? or lyric poetry, as it is not a reader, but a chorus of
voices and instruments that it requires? They will reply, perhaps, that in the
instances referred to, custom has made the practice in question usual: I
should be glad to know, then, if they think the person who first introduced
this practice is to be condemned? Besides, the rehearsal of speeches is no
unprecedented thing either with us or the Grecians. Still, perhaps, they will
insist that it can answer no purpose to recite a speech which has already been
delivered. True, if one were immediately to repeat the very same speech word
for word, and to the very same audience; but if you make several additions and
alterations; if your audience is composed partly of the same, and partly of
different persons, and the recital is at some distance of time, why is there
less propriety in rehearsing your speech than in publishing it? "But it is
difficult," the objectors urge, "to give satisfaction to an audience by the
mere recital of a speech"; that is a consideration which concerns the
particular skill and pains of the person who rehearses, but by no means holds
good against recitation in general. The truth is, it is not whilst I am
reading, but when I am read, that I aim at approbation; and upon this
principle I omit no sort of correction. In the first place, I frequently go
carefully over what I have written, by myself; after this I read it out to two
or three friends, and then give it to others to make their remarks. If after
this I have any doubt concerning the justness of their observations, I
carefully weigh them again with a friend or two; and, last of all, I recite
them to a larger audience; then is the time, believe me, when I correct most
energetically and unsparingly; for my care and attention rise in proportion to
my anxiety; as nothing renders the judgment so acute to detect error as that
deference, modesty, and diffidence one feels upon those occasions. For tell
me, would you not be infinitely less affected were you to speak before a
single person only, though ever so learned, than before a numerous assembly,
even though composed of nene but illiterate people? When you rise up to plead,
are you not at that juncture, above all others, most self-distrustful? and
do you not wish, I will not say some particular parts only, but that the whole
arrangement of your intended speech were altered? especially if the concourse
should be large in which you are to speak? for there is something even in a
low and vulgar audience that strikes one with awe. And if you suspect you are
not well received at the first opening of your speech, do you not find all
your energy relaxed, and feel yourself ready to give way? The reason I imagine
to be that there is a certain weight of collective opinion in a multitude, and
although each individual judgment is, perhaps, of little value, yet when
united it becomes considerable. Accordingly, Pomponius Secundus, the famous
tragic poet, whenever some very intimate friend and he differed about the
retaining or rejecting anything in his writings, used to say, "I appeal^1 to
the people"; and thus, by their silence or applause, adopted either his own or
his friend`s opinion; such was the deference he paid to the popular judgment!
Whether justly or not, is no concern of mine, as I am not in the habit of
reciting my works publicly, but only to a select circle, whose presence I
respect, and whose judgment I value; in a word, whose opinions I attend to as
if they were so many individuals I had separately consulted, at the same time
that I stand in as much awe before them as I should before the most numerous
assembly. What Cicero says of composing will, in my opinion, hold true of the
dread we have of the public: "Fear is the most rigid critic imaginable." The
very thought of reciting, the very entrance into an assembly, and the agitated
concern when one is there; each of these circumstances tends to improve and
perfect an author`s performance. Upon the whole, therefore, I cannot repent of
a practice which I have found by experience so exceedingly useful; and am so
far from being discouraged by the trifling objections of these censors that I
request you would point out to me if there is yet any other kind of
correction, that I may also adopt it; for nothing can sufficiently satisfy my
anxiety to render my compositions perfect. I reflect what an undertaking it
is, resigning any work into the hands of the public; and I cannot but be
persuaded that frequent revisals, and many consultations, must go to the
perfecting of a performance, which one desires should universally and for ever
please. Farewell.
[Footnote 1: There is a kind of witticism in this expression, which will be
lost to the mere English reader, unless he be informed that the Romans had a
privilege, confirmed to them by several laws which passed in the earlier ages
of the republic, of appealing from the decisions of the magistrates to the
general assembly of the people: and they did so in the form of words which
Pomponius here applies to a different purpose. M.]
LXXX
To Priscus
The illness of my friend Fannia gives me great concern. She contracted it
during her attendance on Junia, one of the Vestal Virgins, engaging in this
good office at first voluntarily, Junia being her relation, and afterwards
being appointed to it by an order from the college of priests: for these
virgins, when excessive ill health renders it necessary to remove them from
the temple of Vesta, are always delivered over to the care and custody of some
venerable matron. It was owing to her assiduity in the execution of this
charge that she contracted her present dangerous disorder, which is a
continual fever, attended with a cough that increases daily. She is extremely
emaciated, and every part of her seems in a total decay except her spirits:
those, indeed, she fully keeps up; and in a way altogether worthy the wife of
Helvidius, and the daughter of Thrasea. In all other respects there is such a
falling away that I am more than apprehensive upon her account; I am deeply
afflicted. I grieve, my friend, that so excellent a woman is going to be
removed from the eyes of the world, which will never, perhaps, again behold
her equal. So pure she is, so pious, so wise and prudent, so brave and
steadfast! Twice she followed her husband into exile, and the third time she
was banished herself upon his account. For Senecio, when arraigned for writing
the life of Helvidius, having said in his defence that he composed that work
at the request of Fannia, Metius Carus, with a stern and threatening air,
asked her whether she had made that request, and she replied, "I made it." Did
she supply him likewise with materials for the purpose? "I did." Was her
mother privy to this transaction? "She was not." In short, throughout her
whole examination, not a word escaped her which betrayed the smallest fear. On
the contrary, she had preserved a copy of those very books which the senate,
overawed by the tyranny of the times, had ordered to be suppressed, and at the
same time the effects of the author to be confiscated, and carried with her
into exile the very cause of her exile. How pleasing she is, how courteous,
and (what is granted to few) no less lovable than worthy of all esteem and
admiration! Will she hereafter be pointed out as a model to all wives; and
perhaps be esteemed worthy of being set forth as an example of fortitude even
to our sex; since, while we still have the pleasure of seeing and conversing
with her, we contemplate her with the same admiration, as those heroines who
are celebrated in ancient story? For myself, I confess, I cannot but tremble
for this illustrious house, which seems shaken to its very foundations, and
ready to fall; for though she will leave descendants behind her, yet what a
height of virtue must they attain, what glorious deeds must they perform, ere
the world will be persuaded that she was not the last of her family! It is an
additional affliction and anguish to me that by her death I seem to lose her
mother a second time; that worthy mother (and what can I say higher in her
praise?) of so noble a woman! who, as she was restored to me in her daughter,
so she will now again be taken from me, and the loss of Fannia will thus
pierce my heart at once with a fresh, and at the same time reopened, wound. I
so truly loved and honoured them both, that I know not which I loved the best;
a point they desired might ever remain undetermined. In their prosperity and
their adversity I did them every kindness in my power, and was their comforter
in exile, as well as their avenger at their return. But I have not yet paid
them what I owe, and am so much the more solicitous for the recovery of this
lady, that I may have time to discharge my debt to her. Such is the anxiety
and sorrow under which I write this letter! But if some divine power should
happily turn it into joy, I shall not complain of the alarms I now suffer.
Farewell.
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