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General LettersPart XII
Part XII
CI
To Quadratus
The pleasure and attention with which you read the vindication I
published of Helvidius,^1 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^2 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,^3 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,^4 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
returnes 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 condemns
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."^5 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,
[Footnote 1: He was accused of treason, under pretence that in a dramatic
piece which he composed he had, in the characters of Paris and Cenone,
reflected upon Domitian for divorcing his wife Domitia. Suet. in Vit. Domit.
c. 10. M.]
[Footnote 2: Helvidius.]
[Footnote 3: Upon the accession of Nerva to the empire, after the death of
Domitian. M.]
[Footnote 4: Our author`s first wife, of whom we have no particular account.
After her death, he married his favourite, Calpurnia. M.]
[Footnote 5: It is very remarkable that, when any senator was asked his
opinion in the house, he had the privilege of speaking as long as he pleased
upon any other affair before he came to the point in question. Aul. Gell. lib.
iv., c. 10. M.]
"`All I`ve foreseen, and oft in thought revolv`d;^6
[Footnote 6: Aeneid, lib. vi., v. 105.]
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."
Then Cornutus rose up and acquainted the house, that, as he was appointed
guardian to the daughter of Helvidius by the consuls, upon the petition of her
mother and her father-in-law, he felt himself compelled to fulfil the duty
of his trust. In the execution of which, however, he would endeavour to set
some bounds to his indignation by following that great example of moderation
which those excellent women^7 had set, who contented themselves with barely
informing the senate of the cruelties which Certus committed in order to carry
on his infamous adulation; and therefore," he said, "he would move only that,
if a punishment due to a crime so notoriously known should be remitted, Certus
might at least be branded with some mark of the displeasure of that august
assembly." Satrius Rutus spoke next, and, meaning to steer a middle course,
expressed himself with considerable ambiguity. "I am of opinion," said he,
"that great injustice will be done to Certus if he is not acquitted (for I do
not scruple to mention his name, since the friends of Arria and Fannia, as
well as his own, have done so too), nor indeed have we any occasion for
anxiety upon this account. We who think well of the man shall judge him with
the same impartiality as the rest; but if he is innocent, as I hope he is, and
shall be glad to find, I think this house may very justly deny the present
motion till some charge has been proved against him." Thus, according to the
respective order in which they were called upon, they delivered their several
opinions. When it came to my turn, I rose up, and, using same introduction to
my speech as I have published in the defence, I replied to them severally. It
is surprising with what attention, what clamorous applause I was heard, even
by those who just before were loudest against me: such a wonderful change was
wrought either by the importance of the affair, the successful progress of the
speech, or the resolution of the advocate. After I had finished, Vejento
attempted to reply; but the general clamour raised against him not permitting
him to go on, "I entreat you, conscript fathers,"^8 said he, "not to oblige me
to implore the assistance of the tribunes."^9 Immediately the tribune Murena
cried out, "You have my permission, most illustrious Vejento, to go on." But
still the clamour was renewed. In the interval, the consul ordered the house
to divide, and having counted the voices, dismissed the senate, leaving
Vejento in the midst, still attempting to speak. He made great complaints of
this affront (as he called it), applying the following lines of Homer to
himself:
[Footnote 7: Arria and Fannia.]
[Footnote 8: The appellation by which the senate was addressed. M.]
[Footnote 9: The tribunes were magistrates chosen at first out of the body of
the commons, for the defence of their liberties, and to interpose in all
grievances offered by their superiors. Their authority extended even to the
deliberations of the senate. M.]
"Great perils, father, wait the unequal fight;
Those younger champions will thy strength o`ercome."^10
[Footnote 10: Diomed`s speech to Nestor, advising him to retire from the field
of battle. Iliad, viii. 102. Pope. M.]
There was hardly a man in the senate that did not embrace and kiss me,
and all strove who should applaud me most, for having, at the cost of private
enmities, revived a custom so long disused, of freely consulting the senate
upon affairs that concern the honour of the public; in a word, for having
wiped off that reproach which was thrown upon it by other orders in the state,
"that the senators mutually favoured the members of their own body, while they
were very severe in animadverting upon the rest of their fellow citizens." All
this was transacted in the absence of Certus; who kept out of the way either
because he suspected something of this nature was intended to be moved, or (as
was alleged in his excuse) that he was really unwell. Caesar, however, did not
refer the examination of this matter to the senate. But I succeeded,
nevertheless, in my aim, another person being appointed to succeed Certus in
the consulship, while the election of his colleague to that office was
confirmed. And thus, the wish with which I concluded my speech, was actually
accomplished: "May he be obliged," said I, "to renounce, under a virtuous
prince,^11 that reward he received from an infamous one!"^12 Some time after I
recollected, as well as I could, the speech I had made upon this occasion; to
which I made several additions. It happened (though indeed it had the
appearance of being something more than casual) that a few days after I had
published this piece, Certus was taken ill and died. I was told that his
imagination was continually haunted with this affair, and kept picturing me
ever before his eyes, as a man pursuing him with a drawn sword. Whether there
was any truth in this rumour, I will not venture to assert; but, for the sake
of example, however, I could wish it might gain credit. And now I have sent
you a letter which (considering it is a letter) is as long as the defence you
say you have read: but you must thank yourself for not being content with such
information as that piece could afford you. Farewell.
[Footnote 11: Nerva.]
[Footnote 12: Domitian; by whom he had been appointed consul elect, though he
had not yet entered upon that office. M.]
CII
To Genitor
I have received your letter, in which you complain of having been highly
disgusted lately at a very splendid entertainment, by a set of buffoons,
mummers, and wanton prostitutes, who were dancing about round the tables.^1
But let me advise you to smooth your knitted brow somewhat. I confess, indeed,
I admit nothing of this kind at my own house; however, I bear with it in
others. "And why, then," you will be ready to ask, "not have them yourself?"
The truth is, because the gestures of the wanton, the pleasantries of the
buffoon, or the extravagancies of the mummer, give me no pleasure, as they
give me no surprise. It is my particular taste, you see, not my judgment, that
I plead against them. And, indeed, what numbers are there who think the
entertainments with which you and I are most delighted no better than
impertinent follies! How many are there who, as soon as a reader, a lyrist, or
a comedian is introduced, either take their leave of the company or, if they
remain, shew as much dislike to this sort of thing as you did to those
monsters, as you call them! Let us bear therefore, my friend, with others in
their amusements, that they, in return, may shew indulgence to ours. Farewell.
[Footnote 1: These persons were introduced at most of the tables of the great,
for the purposes of mirth and gaiety, and constituted an essential part in all
polite entertainments among the Romans. It is surprising how soon this great
people fell off from their original severity of manners, and were tainted with
the stale refinements of foreign luxury. Livy dates the rise of this and other
unmanly delicacies from the conquest of Scipio Asiaticus over Antiochus; that
is, when the Roman name had scarce subsisted above a hundred and threescore
years. "Luxuriae peregrinae origo," says he, "exercitu Asiatico in urbem
invecta est." This triumphant army caught, it seems, the contagious softness
of the people it subdued; and, on its return to Rome, spread an infection
among their countrymen, which worked by slow degrees, till it effected their
total destruction. Thus did Eastern luxury revenge itself on Roman arms. It
may be wondered that Pliny should keep his own temper, and check the
indignation of his friends, at a scene which was fit only for the dissolute
revels of the infamous Trimalchio. But it will not, perhaps, be doing justice
to our author to take an estimate of his real sentiments upon this point from
the letter before us. Genitor, it seems, was a man of strict, but rather of
too austere morals for the free turn of the age: "emendatus et gravis: paulo
etiam horridior et durior ut in hac licentia temporum" (Ep. iii., 1. 3). But
as there is a certain seasonable accommodation to the manners of the times,
not only extremely consistent with, but highly conducive to, the interests of
virtue, Pliny, probably, may affect a greater latitude than he in general
approved, in order to draw off his friend from that stiffness and unyielding
disposition which might prejudice those of a gayer turn against him, and
consequently lessen the beneficial influence of his virtues upon the world.
M.]
CIII
To Sabinianus
Your freedman, whom you lately mentioned to me with displeasure, has been
with me, and threw himself at my feet with as much submission as he could have
fallen at yours. He earnestly requested me with many tears, and even with all
the eloquence of silent sorrow, to intercede for him; in short, he convinced
me by his whole behaviour that he sincerely repents of his fault. I am
persuaded he is thoroughly reformed, because he seems deeply sensible of his
guilt. I know you are angry with him, and I know, too, it is not without
reason; but clemency can never exert itself more laudably than when there is
the most cause for resentment. You once had an affection for this man, and, I
hope, will have again; meanwhile, let me only prevail with you to pardon him.
If he should incur your displeasure hereafter, you will have so much the
stronger plea in excuse for your anger as you shew yourself more merciful to
him now. Concede something to his youth, to his tears, and to your own natural
mildness of temper: do not make him uneasy any longer, and I will add, too, do
not make yourself so; for a man of your kindness of heart cannot be angry
without feeling great uneasiness. I am afraid, were I to join my entreaties
with his, I should seem rather to compel than request you to forgive him. Yet
I will not scruple even to write mine with his; and in so much the stronger
terms as I have very sharply and severely reproved him, positively threatening
never to interpose again in his behalf. But though it was proper to say this
to him, in order to make him more fearful of offending, I do not say so to
you. I may perhaps, again have occasion to entreat you upon his account, and
again obtain your forgiveness; supposing, I mean, his fault should be such as
may become me to intercede for, and you to pardon. Farewell.
CIV
To Maximus
It has frequently happened, as I have been pleading before the Court of
the Hundred, that these venerable judges, after having preserved for a long
period the gravity and solemnity suitable to their character, have suddenly,
as though urged by irresistible impulse, risen up to a man and applauded me. I
have often likewise gained as much glory in the senate as my utmost wishes
could desire: but I never felt a more sensible pleasure than by an account
which I lately received from Cornelius Tacitus. He informed me that, at the
last Circensian games, he sat next to a Roman knight, who, after conversation
had passed between them upon various points of learning, asked him, "Are you
an Italian, or a provincial?" Tacitus replied, "Your acquaintance with
literature must surely have informed you who I am." "Pray, then, is it Tacitus
or Pliny I am talking with?" I cannot express how highly I am pleased to find
that our names are not so much the proper appellatives of men as a kind of
distinction for learning herself; and that eloquence renders us known to those
who would otherwise be ignorant of us. An accident of the same kind happened
to me a few days ago. Fabius Rufinus, a person of distinguished merit, was
placed next me at table; and below him a countryman of his, who had just then
come to Rome for the first time. Rufinus, calling his friend`s attention to
me, said to him, "You see this man?" and entered into a conversation upon the
subject of my pursuits: to whom the other immediately replied, "This must
undoubtedly be Pliny." To confess the truth, I look upon these instances as a
very considerable recompense of my labours. If Demosthenes had reason to be
pleased with the old woman of Athens crying out, "This is Demosthenes!" may
not I, then, be allowed to congratulate myself upon the celebrity my name has
acquired? Yes, my friend, I will rejoice in it, and without scruple admit that
I do. As I only mention the judgment of others, not my own, I am not afraid of
incurring the censure of vanity; especially from you, who, whilst envying no
man`s reputation, are particularly zealous for mine. Farewell.
CV
To Sabinianus
I greatly approve of your having, in compliance with my letter,^1
received again into your favour and family a discarded freedman, whom you once
admitted into a share of your affection. This will afford you, I doubt not,
great satisfaction. It certainly has me, both as a proof that your passion can
be controlled, and as an instance of your paying so much regard to me as
either to yield to my authority or to comply with my request. Let me,
therefore, at once both praise and thank you. At the same time I must advise
you to be disposed for the future to pardon the faults of your people, though
there should be none to intercede in their behalf. Farewell.
[Footnote 1: See letter ciii.]
CVI
To Lupercus
I said once (and, I think, not inaptly) of a certain orator of the present
age, whose compositions are extremely regular and correct, but deficient in
grandeur and embellishment, "His only fault is that he has none." Whereas he,
who is possessed of the true spirit of oratory, should be bold and elevated,
and sometimes even flame out, be hurried away, and frequently tread upon the
brink of a precipice: for danger is generally near whatever is towering and
exalted. The plain, it is true, affords a safer, but for that reason a more
humble and inglorious, path: they who run are more likely to stumble thsn they
who creep; but the latter gain no honour by not slipping, while the former
even fall with glory. It is with eloquence as with some other arts; she is
never more pleasing than when she risks most. Have you not observed what
acclamations our rope-dancers excite at the instant of imminent danger?
Whatever is most entirely unexpected, or, as the Greeks more strongly express
it, whatever is most perilous, most excites our admiration. The pilot`s skill
is by no means equally proved in a calm as in a storm: in the former case he
tamely enters the port, unnoticed and unapplauded; but when the cordage
cracks, the mast bends, and the rudder groans, then it is that he shines out
in all his glory, and is hailed as little inferior to a sea-god.
The reason of my making this observation is, because, if I mistake not,
you have marked some passages in my writings for being tumid, exuberant, and
overwrought, which, in my estimation, are but adequate to the thought, or
boldly sublime. But it is material to consider whether your criticism turns
upon such points as are real faults, or only striking and remarkable
expressions. Whatever is elevated is sure to be observed; but it requires a
very nice judgment to distinguish the bounds between true and false grandeur;
between loftiness and exaggeration. To give an instance out of Homer, the
author who can, with the greatest propriety, fly from one extreme of style to
another:
"Heav`n in loud thunder bids the trumpet sound;
And wide beneath them groans the rending ground."^1
[Footnote 1: Iliad, xxi. 387. Pope. M.]
Again,
"Reclin`d on clouds his steed and armour lay."^2
[Footnote 2: Iliad, v. 356, speaking of Mars. M.]
So in this passage:
"As torrents roll, increas`d by numerous rills,
With rage impetuous down their echoing hills,
Rush to the vales, and pour`d along the plain,
Roar through a thousand channels to the main."^3
[Footnote 3: Iliad, iv. 452. Pope.]
It requires, I say, the nicest balance to poise these metaphors, and
determine whether they are incredible and meaningless, or majestic and
sublime. Not that I think anything which I have written, or can write, admits
of comparison with these. I am not quite so foolish; but what I would be
understood to contend for is, that we should give eloquence free rein, and not
restrain the force and impetuosity of genius within too narrow a compass. But
it will be said, perhaps, that one law applies to orators, another to poets.
As if, in truth, Marc-Tully were not as bold in his metaphors as any of the
poets! But not to mention particular instances from him, in a point where, I
imagine, there can be no dispute; does Demosthenes^4 himself, that model and
standard of true oratory, does Demosthenes check and repress the fire of his
indignation, in that well-known passage which begins thus? - "These wicked
men, these flatterers, and these destroyers of mankind," &c. - And again: "It
is neither with stones nor bricks that I have fortified this city," &c. - And
afterwards: "I have thrown up these outworks before Attica, and pointed out to
you all the resources which human prudence can suggest," &c. - And in another
place: "O Athenians, I swear by the immortal gods that he is intoxicated with
the grandeur of his own actions," &c.^5 - But what can be more daring and
beautiful than that long digression which begins in this manner: "A terrible
disease"? - The following passage likewise, though somewhat shorter, is
equally boldly conceived: "Then it was I rose up in opposition to the daring
Pytho, who poured forth a torrent of menaces against you," &c.^6 - The
subsequent stricture is of the same stamp: "When a man has strengthened
himself, as Philip has, in avarice and wickedness, the first pretence, the
first false step, be it ever so inconsiderable, has overthrown and destroyed
all," &c.^7 - So in the same style with the foregoing is this: "Railed off, as
it were, from the privileges of society, by the concurrent and just judgments
of the three tribunals in the city." - And in the same place: "O Aristogiton!
you have betrayed that mercy which used to be shewn to offences of this
nature, or rather, indeed, you have wholly destroyed it. In vain then would
you fly for refuge to a port, which you have shut up, and encompassed with
rocks." - He has said before: "I am afraid, therefore, you should appear, in
the judgment of some, to have erected a public seminary of faction: for there
is a weakness in all wickedness which renders it apt to betray itself!" - And
a little lower: "I see none of these resources open to him; but all is
precipice, gulf, and profound abyss." - And again: "Nor do I imagine that our
ancestors erected those courts of judicature that men of his character should
be planted there, but, on the contrary, eradicated, that none may emulate
their evil actions." - And afterwards: "If he is then the artificer of every
wickedness, if he only makes it his trade and traffic," &c. - And a thousand
other passages which I might cite to the same purpose; not to mention those
expressions which Aeschines calls not words,ebut wonders. - You will tell me,
perhaps, I have unwarily mentioned Aeschines, since Demosthenes is condemned
even by him, for running into these figurative expressions. But observe, I
entreat you, how far superior the former orator is to his critic, and superior
too in the very passage to which he objects; for in others, the force of his
genius, in those above quoted, its loftiness, makes itself manifest. But does
Aeschines himself avoid those errors which he reproves in Demosthenes? "The
orator," says he, "Athenians, and the law, ought to speak the same language;
but when the voice of the law declares one thing, and that of the orator
another, we should give our vote to the justice of the law, not to the
impudence of the orator."^8 - And in another place: "He afterwards manifestly
discovered the design he had, of concealing his fraud under cover of the
decree, having expressly declared therein that the ambassadors sent to the
Oretae gave the five talents, not to you, but to Callias. And that you may be
convinced of the truth of what I say (after having stripped the decree of its
galleys, its trim, and its arrogant ostentation), read the clause itself." -
And in another part: "Suffer him not to break cover and escape out of the
limits of the question." A metaphor he is so fond of that he repeats it again.
"But remaining firm and confident in the assembly, drive him into the merits
of the question, and observe well how he doubles." - Is his style more
reserved and simple when he says: "But you are ever wounding our ears, and are
more concerned in the success of your daily harangues than for the salvation
of the city"? - What follows is conceived in a yet higher strain of metaphor:
"Will you not expel this man as the common calamity of Greece? Will you not
seize and punish this pirate of the state, who sails about in quest of
favourable conjunctures," &c. - With many other passages of a similar nature.
And now I expect you will make the same attacks upon certain expressions in
this letter as you did upon those I have been endeavouring to defend. The
rudder that groans, and the pilot compared to a sea-god, will not, I
imagine, escape your criticism: for I perceive, while I am suing for
indulgence to my former style, I have fallen into the same kind of figurative
diction which you condemn. But attack them if you please, provided you will
immediately appoint a day when we may meet to discuss these matters in person:
you will then either teach me to be less daring or I shall teach you to be
more bold. Farewell.
[Footnote 4: The design of Pliny in this letter is to justify the figurative
expressions he had employed, probably in some oration, by instances of the
same warmth of colouring from those great masters of eloquence, Demosthenes
and his rival, Aeschines. But the force of the passages which he produces from
these orators must necessarily be greatly weakened to a mere modern reader,
some of them being only hinted at, as generally well known; and the metaphors
in several of the others have either lost much of their original spirit and
boldness, by being introduced and received in common language, or cannot,
perhaps, be preserved in an English translation. M.]
[Footnote 5: See 1st Philippic.]
[Footnote 6: See Demosthenes` speech in defence of Ctesiphon.]
[Footnote 7: See 2nd Olynthiac.]
[Footnote 8: See Aeschines` speech against Ctesiphon.]
CVII
To Caninius
I have met with a story, which, although authenticated by undoubted
evidence, looks very like fable, and would afford a worthy field for the
exercise of so exuberant, lofty, and truly poetical a genius as your own. It
was related to me the other day over the dinner table, where the conversation
happened to run upon various kinds of marvels. The person who told the story
was a man of unsuspected veracity: but what has a poet to do with truth?
However, you might venture to rely upon his testimony, even though you had the
character of a faithful historian to support. There is in Africa a town called
Hippo, situated not far from the seacoast: it stands upon a navigable lake
communicating with an estuary in the form of a river, which alternately flows
into the lake, or into the ocean, according to the ebb and flow of the tide.
People of all ages amuse themselves here with fishing, sailing, or swimming;
especially boys, whom love of play brings to the spot. With these it is a fine
and manly achievement to be able to swim the farthest; and he that leaves the
shore and h s companions at the greatest distance gains the victory. It
happened, in one of these trials of skill, that a certain boy, bolder than the
rest, launched out towards the opposite shore. He was met by a dolphin, who
sometimes swam before him, and sometimes behind him, then played round him,
and at last took him upon his back, and set him down, and afterwards took him
again; and thus he carried the poor frightened fellow out into the deepest
part; when immediately he turns back again to the shore, and lands him among
his companions. The fame of this remarkable accident spread through the town,
and crowds of people flocked round the boy (whom they viewed as a kind of
prodigy) to ask him questions and hear him relate the story. The next day the
shore was thronged with spectators, all attentively watching the ocean, and
(what indeed is almost itself an ocean) the lake. Meanwhile the boys swam as
usual, and among the rest, the boy I am speaking of went into the lake, but
with more caution than before. The dolphin appeared again and came to the boy,
who, together with his companions, swam away with the utmost precipitation.
The dolphin, as though to invite and call them back, leaped and dived up and
down, in a series of circular movements. This he practised the next day, the
day after, and for several days together, till the people (accustomed from
their infancy to the sea) began to be ashamed of their timidity. They
ventured, therefore, to advance nearer, playing with him and calling him to
them, while he, in return, suffered himself to be touched and stroked. Use
rendered them courageous. The boy, in particular, who first made the
experiment, swam by the side of him, and leaping upon his back, was carried
backwards and forwards in that manner, and thought the dolphin knew him and
was fond of him, while he too had grown fond of the dolphin. There seemed now,
indeed, to be no fear on either side, the confidence of the one and tameness
of the other mutually increasing; the rest of the boys, in the meanwhile
surrounding and encouraging their companion. It is very remarkable that this
dolphin was followed by a second, which seemed only as a spectator and
attendant on the former; for he did not at all submit to the same
familiarities as the first, but only escorted him backwards and forwards, as
the boys did their comrade. But what is further surprising, and no less true
than what I have already related, is that this dolphin, who thus played with
the boys and carried them upon his back, would come upon the shore, dry
himself in the sand, and, as soon as he grew warm, roll back into the sea. It
is a fact that Octavius Avitus, deputy governor of the province, actuated by
an absurd piece of superstition, poured some ointment^1 over him as he lay on
the shore: the novelty and smell of which made him retire into the ocean, and
it was not till several days after that he was seen again, when he appeared
dull and languid; however, he recovered his strength and continued his usual
playful tricks. All the magistrates round flocked hither to view this sight,
whose arrival and prolonged stay, was an additional expense, which the slender
finances of this little community would ill afford; besides, the quiet and
retirement of the place was utterly destroyed. It was thought proper,
therefore, to remove the occasion of this concourse, by privately killing the
poor dolphin. And now, with what a flow of tenderness will you describe this
affecting catastrophe!^2 and how will your genius adorn and heighten this
moving story! Though, indeed the subject does not require any fictitious
embellishments; it will be sufficient to describe the actual facts of the case
without suppression or diminution. Farewell.
[Footnote 1: It was a religious ceremony practised by the ancients to pour
precious ointments upon the statues of their gods: Avitus, it is probable,
imagined this dolphin was some sea-divinity, and therefore expressed his
veneration of him by the solemnity of a sacred unction. M.]
[Footnote 2: The overflowing humanity of Pliny`s temper breaks out upon all
occasions, but he discovers it in nothing more strongly than by the impression
which this little story appears to have made upon him. True benevolence,
indeed, extends itself through the whole compass of existence, and sympathizes
with he distress of every creature of sensation. Little minds may be apt to
consider a compassion of this inferior kind as an instance of weakness; but it
is undoubtedly the evidence of a noble nature. Homer thought it not unbecoming
the character even of a hero to melt into tears at a distress of this sort,
and has given us a most amiable and affecting picture of Ulysses weeping over
his faithful dog Argus, when he expires at his feet: "Soft pity touch`d the
mighty master`s soul; Adown his cheek the tear unbidden stole, Stole
unperceived; he turn`d his head and dry`d The drop humane. . . ." (Odyss.
xvii. Pope.) M.]
CVIII
To Fuscus
You want to know how I portion out my day, in my summer villa at Tuscum?
I get up just when I please; generally about sunrise, often earlier, but
seldom later than this. I keep the shutters closed, as darkness and silence
wonderfully promote meditation. Thus free and abstracted from those outward
objects which dissipate attention, I am left to my own thoughts; nor suffer my
mind to wander with my eyes, but keep my eyes in subjection to my mind, which,
when they are not distracted by a multiplicity of external objects, see
nothing but what the imagination represents to them. If I have any work in
hand, this is the time I choose for thinking it out, word for word, even to
the minutest accuracy of expression. In this way I compose more or less,
according as the subject is more or less difficult, and I find myself able to
retain it. I then call my secretary, and, opening the shutters, dictate to him
what I have put into shape, after which I dismiss him, then call him in again,
and again dismiss him. About ten or eleven o`clock (for I do not observe one
fixed hour), according to the weather, I either walk upon my terrace or in the
covered portico, and there I continue to meditate or dictate what remains upon
the subject in which I am engaged. This completed, I get into my chariot,
where I employ myself as before, when I was walking, or in my study; and find
this change of scene refreshes and keeps up my attention. On my return home, I
take a little nap, then a walk, and after that repeat out loud and distinctly
some Greek or Latin speech, not so much for the sake of strengthening my voice
as my digestion;^1 though indeed the voice at the same time is strengthened by
this practice. I then take another walk, am anointed, do my exercises, and go
into the bath. At supper, if I have only my wife or a few friends with me,
some author is read to us; and after supper we are entertained either with
music or an interlude. When that is finished, I take my walk with my family,
among whom I am not without some scholars. Thus we pass our evenings in varied
conversation; and the day, even when at the longest, steals imperceptibly
away. Upon some occasions I change the order in certain of the articles above
- mentioned. For instance, if I have studied longer or walked more than usual,
after my second sleep, and reading a speech or two aloud, instead of using my
chariot I get on horseback; by which means I ensure as much exercise and lose
less time. The visits of my friends from the neighbouring villages claim some
part of the day; and sometimes, by an agreeable interruption, they come in
very seasonably to relieve me when I am feeling tired. I now and then amuse
myself with hunting, but always take my tablets into the field, that, if I
should meet with no game, I may at least bring home something. Part of my time
too (though not so much as they desire) is allotted to my tenants; whose
rustic complaints, along with these city occupations, make my literary studies
still more delightful to me. Farewell.
[Footnote 1: By the regimen which Pliny here follows, one would imagine, if he
had not told us who were his physicians, that the celebrated Celsus was in the
number. That author expressly recommends reading aloud, and afterwards
walking, as beneficial in disorders of the stomach: "Si quis stomacho laborat,
legere clare debet; post lectionem ambulare," &c. Celsi Medic. 1. i., c. 8.
M.]
CIX
To Paulinus
As you are not of a disposition to expect from your friends the ordinary
ceremonial observances of society when they cannot observe them without
inconvenience to themselves, so I love you too steadfastly to be apprehensive
of your taking otherwise than I wish you should my not waiting upon you on the
first day of your entrance upon the consular office, especially as I am
detained here by the necessity of letting my farms upon long leases. I am
obliged to enter upon an entirely new plan with my tenants: for under the
former leases, though I made them very considerable abatements, they have run
greatly in arrear. For this reason several of them have not only taken no sort
of care to lessen a debt which they found themselves incapable of wholly
discharging, but have even seized and consumed all the produce of the land, in
the belief that it would now be of no advantage to themselves to spare it. I
must therefore obviate this increasing evil, and endeavour to find out some
remedy against it. The only one I can think of is, not to reserve my rent in
money, but in kind, and so place some of my servants to overlook the tillage,
and guard the stock; as indeed there is no sort of revenue more agreeable to
reason than what arises from the bounty of the soil, the seasons, and the
climate. It is true, this method will require great honesty, sharp eyes, and
many hands. However, I must risk the experiment, and, as in an inveterate
complaint, try every change of remedy. You see, it is not any pleasurable
indulgence that prevents my attending you on the first day of your consulship.
I shall celebrate it, nevertheless, as much as if I were present, and pay my
vows for you here, with all the warmest tokens of joy and congratulation.
Farewell.
CX
To Fuscus
You are much pleased, I find, with the account I gave you in my former
letter of how I spend the summer season at Tuscum, and desire to know what
alteration I make in my method when I am at Laurentum in the winter. None at
all, except abridging myself of my sleep at noon, and borrowing a good piece
of the night before daybreak and after sunset for study: and if business is
very urgent (which in winter very frequently happens), instead of having
interludes or music after supper, I reconsider whatever I have previously
dictated, and improve my memory at the same time by this frequent mental
revision. Thus I have given you a general sketch of my mode of life in summer
and winter; to which you may add the intermediate seasons of spring and
autumn, in which, while losing nothing out of the day, I gain but little from
the night. Farewell.
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