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General LettersPart XI
Part XI
XCI
To Macrinus
Is the weather with you as rude and boisterous as it is with us? All here
is tempest and inundation. The Tiber has swelled its channel, and overflowed
its banks far and wide. Though the wise precaution of the emperor had guarded
against this evil, by cutting several outlets to the river, it has
nevertheless flooded all the fields and valleys and entirely overspread the
whole face of the flat country. It seems to have gone out to meet those rivers
which it used to receive and carry off in one united stream, and has driven
them back to deluge those countries it could not reach itself. That most
delightful of rivers, the Anio, which seems invited and detained in its course
by the villas built along its banks, has almost entirely rooted up and carried
away the woods which shaded its borders. It has overthrown whole mountains,
and, in endeavouring to find a passage through the mass of ruins that
obstructed its way, has forced down houses, and risen and spread over the
desolation it has occasioned. The inhabitants of the hill countries, who are
situated above the reach of this inundation, have been the melancholy
spectators of its dreadful effects, having seen costly furniture, instruments
of husbandry, ploughs, and oxen with their drivers, whole herds of cattle,
together with the trunks of trees, and beams of the neighbouring villas,
floating about in different parts. Nor indeed have these higher places
themselves, to which the waters could not reach up, escaped the calamity. A
continued heavy rain and tempestuous hurricane, as destructive as the river
itself, poured down upon them, and has destroyed all the enclosures which
divided that fertile country. It has damaged likewise, and even overturned,
some of the public buildings, by the fall of which great numbers have been
maimed, smothered, bruised. And thus lamentation over the fate of friends has
been added to losses. I am extremely uneasy lest this extensive ruin should
have spread to you: I beg therefore, if it has not, you will immediately
relieve my anxiety; and indeed I desire you would inform me though it should
have done so; for the difference is not great between fearing a danger, and
feeling it; except that the evil one feels has some bounds, whereas one`s
apprehensions have none. For we can suffer no more than what actually has
happened, but we fear all that possibly could happen. Farewell.
XCII
To Rufinus
The common notion is certainly quite a false one, that a man`s will is a
kind of mirror in which we may clearly discern his real character, for
Domitius Tullus appears a much better man since his death than he did during
his lifetime. After having artfully encouraged the expectations of those who
paid court to him, with a view to being his heirs, he has left his estate to
his niece whom he adopted. He has given likewise several very considerable
legacies among his grandchildren, and also to his great-grandson. In a word,
he has shewn himself a most kind relation throughout his whole will; which is
so much the more to be admired as it was not expected of him. This affair has
been very much talked about, and various opinions expressed: some call him
false, ungrateful, and forgetful, and, while thus railing at him in this way
as if they were actually disinherited, kindred, betray their own dishonest
designs: others, on the contrary, applaud him extremely for having
disappointed the hopes of this infamous tribe of men, whom, considering the
disposition of the times, it is but prudence to deceive. They add that he was
not at liberty to make any other will, and that he cannot so properly be said
to have bequeathed, as returned, his estate to his adopted daughter, since it
was by her means it came to him. For Curtilius Mancia, whose daughter Domitius
Lucanus, brother to this Tullus, married, having taken a dislike to his
son-in-law, made this young lady (who was the issue of that marriage) his
heiress, upon condition that Lucanus, her father, would emancipate her. He
accordingly did so, but she being afterwards adopted by Tullus, her uncle, the
design of Mancia`s will was entirely frustrated. Form these two brothers
having never divided their patrimony, but living together as joint tenants of
one common estate, the daughter of Lucanus, notwithstanding the act of
emancipation, returned back again, together with her large fortune, under the
dominion of her father, by means of this fraudulent adoption. It seems indeed
to have been the fate of these two brothers to be enriched by those who had
the greatest aversion to them. For Domitius Afer, by whom they were adopted,
left a will in their favour, which he had made eighteen years before his
death; though it was plain he had since altered his opinion with regard to the
family, because he was instrumental in procuring the confiscation of their
father`s estate. There is something extremely singular in the resentment of
Afer, and the good fortune of the other two; as it was very extraordinary, on
the one hand, that Domitius should endeavour to extirpate from the privileges
of society a many whose children he had adopted, and, on the other, that these
brothers should find a parent in the very person that ruined their father. But
Tullus acted justly, after having been appointed sole heir by his brother, in
prejudice to his own daughter, to make her amends by transferring to her this
estate, which came to him from Afer, as well as all the rest which he had
gained in partnership with his brother. His will therefore deserves the higher
praise, having been dictated by nature, justice, and sense of honour; in which
he has returned his obligations To his several relations, according to their
respective good offices towards him, not forgetting his wife, having
bequeathed to that excellent woman, who patiently endured much for his sake,
several delightful villas, besides a large sum of money. And indeed she
deserved so much the more at his hands, in proportion to he displeasure she
incurred on her marriage with him. It was thought unworthy a person of her
birth and repute, so long left a widow by her former husband, by whom she had
issue, to marry, in the decline of her life, an old man, merely for his
wealth, and who was so sickly and infirm that, even had he passed the best
years of his youth and health with her, she might well have been heartily
tired of him. He had so entirely lost the use of all his limbs that he could
not move himself in bed without assistance; and the only enjoyment he had of
his riches was to contemplate them. He was even (sad and disgusting to relate)
reduced to the necessity of having his teeth washed and scrubbed by others: in
allusion to which he used frequently to say, when he was complaining of the
indignities which his infirmities obliged him to suffer, that he was every day
compelled to lick his servant`s fingers. Still, however, he lived on, and was
willing to accept of life upon such terms. That he lived so long as he did was
particularly owing, indeed, to the care of his wife, who, whatever reputation
she might lose at first by her marriage, acquired great honour by her
unwearied devotion as his wife. - Thus I have given you all the news of the
town, where nothing is talked of but Tullus. It is expected his curiosities
will shortly be sold by auction. He had such an abundant collection of very
old statues that he actually filled an extensive garden with them, the very
same day he purchased it; not to mention numberless other antiques, lying
neglected in his lumber-room. If you have anything worth telling me in
return, I hope you will not refuse the trouble of writing to me: not only as
we are all of us naturally fond, you know, of news, but because example has a
very beneficial influence upon our own conduct. Farewell.
XCIII
To Gallus
Those works of art or nature which are usually the motives of our 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.^1 As I was walking over his grounds, I was shewn a lake that lies
below them, called Vadimon,^2 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 outswim 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 underground, 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
[Footnote 1: Now called Amelia, a town in Ombria. M.]
[Footnote 2: Now Laghetto di Bassano. M.]
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 everyone 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,^1 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 shewed 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.
[Footnote 1: A province in Anatolia, or Asia Minor. M.]
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 seem 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^1 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.
[Footnote 1: The performers at these games were divided into companies,
distinguished by the particular colour of their habits; the principal of which
were the white, the red, the blue, and the green. Accordingly the spectators
favoured one or the other colour, as humour and caprice inclined them. In the
reign of Justinian a tumult arose in Constantinople, occasioned merely by a
contention among the partisans of these several colours, wherein no less than
30,000 men lost their lives. M.]
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^1: 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,^2 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.
[Footnote 1: Now called Castello di Baia, in Terra di Lavoro. It was the place
the Romans chose for their winter retreat; and which they frequented upon
account of its warm baths. Some few ruins of the beautiful villas that once
covered this delightful coast still remain; and nothing can give one a higher
idea of the prodigious expense and magnificence of the Romans in their private
buildings than the manner in which some of these were situated. It appears
from this letter, as well as from several other passages in the classic
writers, that they actually projected into the sea, being erected upon vast
piles sunk for that purpose. M.]
[Footnote 2: The buskin was a kind of high shoe worn upon the stage by the
actors of tragedy, in order to give them a more heroical elevation of stature;
as the sock was something between a shoe and stocking, it was appropriated to
the comic players. M.]
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,^1 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.
[Footnote 1: Lyons.]
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?"
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.
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