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General LettersPart VIII
Part VIII
LXI
To Priscus
You know Attilius Crescens, and you love him; who is there, indeed, of
any rank or worth, that does not? For myself, I profess to have a friendship
for him far exceeding ordinary attachments of the world. Our native towns are
separated only by a day`s journey; and we got to care for each other when we
were very young; the season for passionate friendships. Ours improved by
years; and so far from being chilled, it was confirmed by our riper judgments,
as those who know us best can witness. He takes pleasure in boasting
everywhere of my friendship; as I do to let the world know that his
reputation, his ease, and his interest are my peculiar concern. Insomuch that
upon his expressing to me some apprehension of insolent treatment from a
certain person who was entering upon the tribuneship of the people, I could
not forbear answering,
"Long as Achilles breathes this vital air,
To touch thy head no impious hand shall dare."^1
[Footnote 1.: Hom. Il. lib. i., v. 88.]
What is my object in telling you these things? Why, to shew you that I look
upon every injury offered to Attilius as done to myself. "But what is the
object of all this?" you repeat. You must know then, Valerius Varus, at his
death, owed Attilius a sum of money. Though I am on friendly terms with
Maximus, his heir, yet there is a closer friendship between him and you. I beg
therefore, and entreat you by the affection you have for me, to take care that
Attilius is not only paid the capital which is due to him, but all the long
arrears of interest too. He neither covets the property of others nor neglects
the care of his own; and as he is not engaged in any lucrative profession, he
has nothing to depend upon but his own frugality: for as to literature, in
which he greatly distinguishes himself, he pursues this merely from motives of
pleasure and ambition. In such a situation, the slightest loss presses hard
upon a man, and the more so because he has no opportunities of repairing any
injury done to his fortune. Remove then, I entreat you, our uneasiness, and
suffer me still to enjoy the pleasure of his wit and bonhommie; for I cannot
bear to see the cheerfulness of my friend overclouded, whose mirth and good
humour dissipates every gloom of melancholy in myself. In short, you know what
a pleasant, entertaining fellow he is, and I hope you will not suffer any
injury to engloom and embitter his disposition. You may judge by the warmth of
his affection how severe his resentments would prove; for a generous and great
mind can ill brook an injury when coupled with contempt. But though he could
pass it over, yet cannot I: on the contrary, I shall regard it as a wrong and
indignity done to myself, and resent it as one offered to my friend; that is,
with double warmth. But, after all, why this air of threatening? rather let me
end in the same style in which I began, namely, by begging, entreating you so
to act in this affair that neither Attilius may have reason to imagine (which
I am exceedingly anxious he should not) that I neglect his interest, nor that
I may have occasion to charge you with carelessness of mine: as undoubtedly I
shall not if you have the same regard for the latter as I have for the former.
Farewell.
LXII
To Albinus
I was lately at Alsium,^1 where my mother-in-law has a villa which
once belonged to Verginius Rufus. The place renewed in my mind the sorrowful
remembrance of that great and excellent man. He was extremely fond of this
retirement, and used to call it the nest of his old age. Whichever way I
looked, I missed him, I felt his absence. I had an inclination to visit his
monument; but I repented having seen it, afterwards: for I found it still
unfinished, and this, not from any difficulty residing in the work itself, for
it is very plain, or rather indeed slight; but through the neglect of him to
whose care it was entrusted. I could not see without a concern, mixed with
indignation, the remains of a man, whose fame filled the whole world, lie for
ten years after his death without an inscription, or a name. He had, however,
directed that the divine and immortal action of his life should be recorded
upon his tomb in the following lines:
[Footnote 1.: Now Alzia, not far from Como.]
"Here Rufus lies, who Vindex` arms withstood,
Not for himself, but for his country`s good."
But faithful friends are so rare, and the dead so soon forgotten, that we
shall be obliged ourselves to build even our very tombs, and anticipate the
office of our heirs. For who is there that has no reason to fear for himself
what we see has happened to Verginius, whose eminence and distinction, while
rendering such treatment more shameful, so, in the same way, make it more
notorious? Farewell.
LXIII
To Maximus
Oh, what a happy day I lately spent! I was called by the prefect of Rome,
to assist him in a certain case, and had the pleasure of hearing two excellent
young men, Fuscus Salinator and Numidius Quadratus, plead on the opposite
sides: their worth is equal, and each of them will one day, I am persuaded,
prove an ornament not only to the present age, but to literature itself. They
evinced upon this occasion an admirable probity, supported by inflexible
courage: their dress was decent, their elocution distinct, their tones were
manly, their memory retentive, their genius elevated, and guided by an equal
solidity of judgment. I took infinite pleasure in observing them display these
noble qualities; particularly as I had the satisfaction to see that, while
they looked upon me as their guide and model, they appeared to the audience as
my imitators and rivals. It was a day (I cannot but repeat it again) which
afforded me the most exquisite happiness, and which I shall ever distinguish
with the fairest mark. For what indeed could be either more pleasing to me on
the public account than to observe two such noble youths building their fame
and glory upon the polite arts; or more desirable upon my own than to be
marked out as a worthy example to them in their pursuits of virtue? May the
gods still grant me the continuance of that pleasure! And I implore the same
gods, you are my witness, to make all these who think me deserving of
imitation far better than I am. Farewell.
LXIV
To Romanus
You were not present at a very singular occurrence here lately: neither
was I, but the story reached me just after it had happened. Passienus Paulus,
a Roman knight, of good family, and a man of peculiar learning and culture
besides, composes elegies, a talent which runs in the family, for Propertius
is reckoned by him amongst his ancestors, as well as being his countryman. He
was lately reciting a poem which began thus:
"Priscus, at thy command" -
whereupon Javolenus Priscus, who happened to be present as a particular friend
of the poet`s, cried out, "But he is mistaken, I did not command him." Think
what laughter and merriment this occasioned. Priscus` wits, you must know,
are reckoned rather unsound,^1 though he takes a share in public business, is
summoned to consultations, and even publicly acts as a lawyer, so that this
behaviour of his was the more remarkable and ridiculous: meanwhile Paulus was
a good deal disconcerted by his friend`s absurdity. You see how necessary it
is for those who are anxious to recite their works in public to take care that
the audience as well as the author are perfectly sane. Farewell.
[Footnote 1.: Nevertheless, Javolenus Priscus was one of the most eminent
lawyers of his time, and is frequently quoted in the Digesta of Justinian.]
LXV
To Tacitus
Your request that I would send you an account of my uncle`s death, in
order to transmit a more exact relation of it to posterity, deserves my
acknowledgments; for, if this accident shall be celebrated by your pen, the
glory of it, I am well assured, will be rendered for ever illustrious. And
notwithstanding he perished by a misfortune, which, as it involved at the same
time a most beautiful country in ruins, and destroyed so many populous cities,
seems to promise him an everlasting remembrance; notwithstanding he has
himself composed many and lasting works; yet I am persuaded, the mentioning of
him in your immortal writings, will greatly contribute to render his name
immortal. Happy I esteem those to be to whom by provision of the gods has been
granted the ability either to do such actions as are worthy of being related
or to relate them in a manner worthy of being read; but peculiarly happy are
they who are blessed with both these uncommon talents: in the number of which
my uncle, as his own writings and your history will evidently prove, may
justly be ranked. It is with extreme willingness, therefore, that I execute
your commands; and should indeed have claimed the task if you had not enjoined
it. He was at that time with the fleet under his command at Misenum.^1 On the
24th of August, about one in the afternoon, my mother desired him to observe a
cloud which appeared of a very unusual size and shape. He had just taken a
turn in the sun,^2 and, after bathing himself in cold water, and making a
light luncheon, gone back to his books: he immediately arose and went out upon
a rising ground from whence he might get a better sight of this very uncommon
appearance. A cloud, from which mountain was uncertain, at this distance (but
it was found afterwards to come from Mount Vesuvius), was ascending, the
appearance of which I cannot give you a more exact description of than by
likening it to that of a pine-tree, for it shot up to a great height in the
form of a very tall trunk, which spread itself out at the top into a sort of
branches; occasioned, I imagine, either by a sudden gust of air that impelled
it, the force of which decreased as it advanced upwards, or the cloud itself,
being pressed back again by its own weight, expanded in the manner I have
mentioned; it appeared sometimes bright and sometimes dark and spotted,
according as it was either more or less impregnated with earth and cinders.
This phenomenon seemed to a man of such learning and research as my uncle
extraordinary and worth further looking into. He ordered a light vessel to be
got ready, and gave me leave, if I liked, to accompany him. I said I had
rather go on with my work; and it so happened, he had himself given me
something to write out. As he was coming out of the house, he received a note
from Rectina, the wife of Bassus, who was in the utmost alarm at the imminent
danger which threatened her; for her villa lying at the foot of Mount
Vesuvius, there was no way of escape but by sea; she earnestly entreated him
therefore to come to her assistance. He accordingly changed his first
intention, and what he had begun from a philosophical, he now carries out in a
noble and generous spirit. He ordered the galleys to be put to sea, and went
himself on board with an intention of assisting not only Rectina, but the
several other towns which lay thickly strewn along that beautiful coast.
Hastening then to the place from whence others fled with the utmost terror, he
steered his course direct to the point of danger, and with so much calmness
and presence of mind as to be able to make and dictate his observations upon
the motion and all the phenomena of that dreadful scene. He was now so close
to the mountain that the cinders, which grew thicker and hotter the nearer he
approached, fell into the ships, together with pumice-stones, and black
pieces of burning rock: they were in danger too not only of being aground by
the sudden retreat of the sea, but also from the vast fragments which rolled
down from the mountain, and obstructed all the shore. Here he stopped to
consider whether he should turn back again; to which the pilot advising him,
"Fortune," said he, "favours the brave; steer to where Pomponianus is."
Pomponianus was then at Stabiae,^3 separated by a bay, which the sea, after
several insensible windings, forms with the shore. He had already sent his
baggage on board; for though he was not at that time in actual danger, yet
being within sight of it, and indeed extremely near, if it should in the least
increase, he was determined to put to sea as soon as the wind, which was
blowing dead inshore, should go down. It was favourable, however, for carrying
my uncle to Pomponianus, whom he found in the greatest consternation: he
embraced him tenderly, encouraging and urging him to keep up his spirits, and,
the more effectually to soothe his fears by seeming unconcerned himself,
ordered a bath to be got ready, and then, after having bathed, sat down to
supper with great cheerfulness, or at least (what is just as heroic) with
every appearance of it. Meanwhile broad flames shone out in several places
from Mount Vesuvius, which the darkness of the night contributed to render
still brighter and clearer. But my uncle, in order to soothe the apprehensions
of his friend, assured him it was only the burning of the villages, which the
country people had abandoned to the flames: after this he retired to rest, and
it is most certain he was so little disquieted as to fall into a sound sleep:
for his breathing, which, on account of his corpulence, was rather heavy and
sonorous, was heard by the attendants outside. The court which led to his
apartment being now almost filled with stones and ashes, if he had continued
there any time longer, it would have been impossible for him to have made his
way out. So he was awoke and got up, and went to Pomponianus and the rest of
his company, who were feeling too anxious to think of going to bed. They
consulted together whether it would be most prudent to trust to the houses,
which now rocked from side to side with frequent and violent concussions as
though shaken from their very foundations; or fly to the open fields, where
the calcined stones and cinders, though light indeed, yet fell in large
showers, and threatened destruction. In this choice of dangers they resolved
for the fields: as resolution which, while the rest of the company were
hurried into by their fears, my uncle embraced upon cool and deliberate
consideration. They went out then, having pillows tied upon their heads with
napkins; and this was their whole defence against the storm of stones that
fell round them. It was now day everywhere else, but there a deeper darkness
prevailed than in the thickest night; which, however, was in some degree
alleviated by torches and other lights of various kinds. They thought proper
to go farther down upon the shore to see if they might safely put out to sea,
but found the waves still running extremely high, and boisterous. There my
uncle, laying himself down upon a sail-cloth, which was spread for him,
called twice for some cold water, which he drank, when immediately the flames,
preceded by a strong whiff of sulphur, dispersed the rest of the party, and
obliged him to rise. He raised himself up with the assistance of two of his
servants, and instantly fell down dead; suffocated, as I conjecture, by some
gross and noxious vapour, having always had a weak throat, which was often
inflamed. As soon as it was light again, which was not till the third day
after this melancholy accident, his body was found entire, and without any
marks of violence upon it, in the dress in which he fell, and looking more
like a man asleep than dead. During all this time my mother and I, who were at
Misenum - but this has no connection with your history, and you did not desire
any particulars besides those of my uncle`s death; so I will end here, only
adding that I have faithfully related to you what I was either an eye -
witness of myself or received immediately after the accident happened, and
before there was time to vary the truth. You will pick out of this narrative
whatever is most important: for a letter is one thing, a history another; it
is one thing writing to a friend, another thing writing to the public.
Farewell.
[Footnote 1: In the Bay of Naples.]
[Footnote 2: The Romans used to lie or walk naked in the sun, after anointing
their bodies with oil, which was esteemed as greatly contributing to health,
and therefore daily practised by them. This custom, however, of anointing
themselves, is inveighed against by the satirists as in the number of their
luxurious indulgences: but since we find the elder Pliny here, and the amiable
Spurinna in a former letter, practising this method, we cannot suppose the
thing itself was esteemed unmanly, but only when it was attended with some
particular circumstances of an overrefined delicacy. M.]
[Footnote 3: Now called Castelamare, in the Bay of Naples. M.]
LXVI
To Cornelius Tacitus
The letter which, in compliance with your request, I wrote to you
concerning the death of my uncle has raised, it seems, your curiosity to know
what terrors and dangers attended me while I continued at Misenum; for there,
I think, my account broke off:
"Though my shock`d soul recoils, my tongue shall tell."
My uncle having left us, I spent such time as was left on my studies (it was
on their account indeed that I had stopped behind), till it was time for my
bath. After which I went to supper, and then fell into a short and uneasy
sleep. There had been noticed for many days before a trembling of the earth,
which did not alarm us much, as this is quite an ordinary occurrence in
Campania; but it was so particularly violent that night that it not only shook
but actually overturned, as it would seem, everything about us. My mother
rushed into my chamber, where she found me rising, in order to awaken her. We
sat down in the open court of the house, which occupied a small space between
the buildings and the sea. As I was at that time but eighteen years of age, I
know not whether I should call my behaviour, in this dangerous juncture,
courage or folly; but I took up Livy, and amused myself with turning over that
author, and even making extracts from him, as if I had been perfectly at my
leisure. Just then, a friend of my uncle`s, who had lately come to him from
Spain, joined us, and observing me sitting by my mother with a book in my
hand, reproved her for her calmness, and me at the same time for my careless
security: nevertheless I went on with my author. Though it was now morning,
the light was still exceedingly faint and doubtful; the buildings all around
us tottered, and though we stood upon open ground, yet as the place was narrow
and confined, there was no remaining without imminent danger: we therefore
resolved to quit the town. A panic-stricken crowd followed us, and (as to a
mind distracted with terror every suggestion seems more prudent than its own)
pressed on us in dense array to drive us forward as we came out. Being at a
convenient distance from the houses, we stood still, in the midst of a most
dangerous and dreadful scene. The chariots, which we had ordered to be drawn
out, were so agitated backwards and forwards, though upon the most level
ground, that we could not keep them steady, even by supporting them with large
stones. The sea seemed to roll back upon itself, and to be driven from its
banks by the convulsive motion of the earth; it is certain at least the shore
was considerably enlarged, and several sea animals were left upon it. On the
other side, a black and dreadful cloud, broken with rapid, zigzag flashes,
revealed behind it variously shaped masses of flame: these last were like
sheet-lightning, but much larger. Upon this our Spanish friend, whom I
mentioned above, addressing himself to my mother and me with great energy and
urgency: "If your brother," he said, "if your uncle be safe, he certainly
wishes you may be so too; but if he perished, it was his desire, no doubt,
that you might both survive him: why therefore do you delay your escape a
moment?" We could never think of our own safety, we said, while we were
uncertain of his. Upon this our friend left us, and withdrew from the danger
with the utmost precipitation. Soon afterwards, the cloud began to descend,
and cover the sea. It had already surrounded and concealed the island of
Capreae and the promontory of Misenum. My mother now besought, urged, even
commanded me to make my escape at any rate, which, as I was young, I might
easily do; as for herself, she said, her age and corpulency rendered all
attempts of that sort impossible; however, she would willingly meet death if
she could have the satisfaction of seeing that she was not the occasion of
mine. But I absolutely refused to leave her, and, taking her by the hand,
compelled her to go with me. She complied with great reluctance, and not
without many reproaches to herself for retarding my flight. The ashes now
began to fall upon us, though in no great quantity. I looked back; a dense,
dark mist seemed to be following us, spreading itself over the country like a
cloud. "Let us turn out of the highroad," I said, "while we can still see, for
fear that, should we fall in the road, we should be pressed to death in the
dark, by the crowds that are following us." We had scarcely sat down when
night came upon us, not such as we have when the sky is cloudy, or when there
is no moon, but that of a room when it is shut up, and all the lights put
out. You might hear the shrieks of women, the screams of children, and the
shouts of men; some calling for their children, others for their parents,
others for their husbands, and seeking to recognize each other by the voices
that replied; one lamenting his own fate, another that of his family; some
wishing to die, from the very fear of dying; some lifting their hands to the
gods; but the greater part convinced that there were now no gods at all, and
that the final endless night of which we have heard had come upon the world.^1
Among these there were some who augmented the real terrors by others imaginary
or wilfully invented. I remember some who declared that one part of Misenum
had fallen, that another was on fire; it was false, but they found people to
believe them. It now grew rather lighter, which we imagined to be rather the
forerunner of an approaching burst of flames (as in truth it was) than the
return of day: however, the fire fell at a distance from us: then again we
were immersed in thick darkness, and a heavy shower of ashes rained upon us,
which we were obliged every now and then to stand up to shake off, otherwise
we should have been crushed and buried in the heap. I might boast that, during
all this scene of horror, not a sigh, or expression of fear, escaped me, had
not my support been grounded in that miserable, though mighty, consolation,
that all mankind were involved in the same calamity, and that I was perishing
with the world itself. At last this dreadful darkness was dissipated by
degrees, like a cloud or smoke; the real day returned, and even the sun shone
out, though with a lurid light, as when an eclipse is coming on. Every object
that presented itself to our eyes (which were extremely weakened) seemed
changed, being covered deep with ashes as if with snow. We returned to
Misenum, where we refreshed ourselves as well as we could, and passed an
anxious night between hope and fear; though, indeed, with a much larger share
of the latter: for the earthquake still continued, while many frenzied persons
ran up and down heightening their own and their friends` calamities by
terrible predictions. However, my mother and I, notwithstanding the danger we
had passed, and that which still threatened us, had no thoughts of leaving the
place, till we could receive some news of my uncle.
[Footnote 1: The Stoic and Epicurean philosophers held that the world was to
be destroyed by fire, and all things fall again into original chaos; not
excepting even the national gods themselves from the destruction of this
general conflagration. M.]
And now, you will read this narrative without any view of inserting it in
your history, of which it is not in the least worthy; and, indeed, you must
put it down to your own request if it should appear not worth even the trouble
of a letter. Farewell.
LXVII
To Macer
How much does the fame of human actions depend upon the station of those
who perform them! The very same conduct shall be either applauded to the skies
or entirely overlooked, just as it may happen to proceed from a person of
conspicuous or obscure rank. I was sailing lately upon our lake,^1 with an old
man of my acquaintance, who desired me to observe a villa situated upon its
banks, which had a chamber overhanging the water. "From that room," said he,
"a woman of our city threw herself and her husband." Upon enquiring into the
cause, he informed me, "That her husband having been long afflicted with an
ulcer in those parts which modesty conceals, she prevailed with him at last to
let her inspect the sore, assuring him at the same time that she would most
sincerely give her opinion whether there was a possibility of its being cured.
Accordingly, upon viewing the ulcer, she found the case hopeless, and
therefore advised him to put an end to his life: she herself accompanying him,
even leading the way by her example, and being actually the means of his
death; for tying herself to her husband, she plunged with him into the lake."
Though this happened in the very city where I was born, I never heard it
mentioned before; and yet that this action is taken less notice of than that
famous one of Arria`s, is not because it was less remarkable, but because the
person who performed it was more obscure. Farewell.
[Footnote 1: The lake Larius.]
LXVIII
To Servianus
I am extremely glad to hear that you intend your daughter for Fuscus
Salinator, and congratulate you upon it. His family is patrician,^1 and both
his father and mother are persons of the most distinguished merit. As for
himself, he is studious, learned, and eloquent, and, with all the innocence of
a child, unites the sprightliness of youth and the wisdom of age. I am not,
believe me, deceived by my affection, when I give him this character; for
though I love him, I confess, beyond measure (as his friendship and esteem for
me well deserve), yet partiality has no share in my judgment: on the contrary,
the stronger my affection for him, the more exactingly I weigh his merit. I
will venture, then, to assure you (and I speak it upon my own experience) you
could not have, formed to your wishes, a more accomplished son-in-law. May
he soon present you with a grandson, who shall be the exact copy of his
father! and with what pleasure shall I receive from the arms of two such
friends their children or grandchildren, whom I shall claim a sort of right to
embrace as my own! Farewell.
[Footnote 1: Those families were styled patrician whose ancestors had been
members of the senate in the earliest times of the regal or consular
government. M.]
LXIX
To Severus
You desire me to consider what turn you should give to your speech in
honour of the emperor,^2 upon your being appointed consul elect.^3 It is easy
to find copies, not so easy to choose out of them; for his virtues afford such
abundant material. However, I will write and give you my opinion, or (what I
should prefer) I will let you have it in person, after having laid before you
the difficulties which occur to me. I am doubtful, then, whether I should
advise you to pursue the method which I observed myself on the same occasion.
When I was consul elect, I avoided running into the usual strain of
compliment, which, however far from adulation, might yet look like it. Not
that I affected firmness and independence, but as well knowing the sentiments
of our amiable prince, and being thoroughly persuaded that the highest prais I
could offer to him would be to shew the world I was under no necessity of
paying him any. When I reflected what profusion of honours had been heaped
upon the very worst of his predecessors, nothing, I imagined, could more
distinguish a prince of his real virtues from those infamous emperors than to
address him in a different manner. And this I thought proper to observe in my
speech, lest it might be suspected I passed over his glorious acts, not out of
judgment, but inattention. Such was the method I then observed; but I am
sensible the same measures are neither agreeable nor indeed suitable to all
alike. Besides, the propriety of doing or omitting a thing depends not only
upon persons, but time and circumstances; and as the late actions of our
illustrious prince afford materials for panegyric, no less just than recent
and glorious, I doubt (as I said before) whether I should persuade you in the
present instance to adopt the same plan as I did myself. In this, however, I
am clear, that it was proper to offer you by way of advice the method I
pursued. Farewell.
[Footnote 2: Trajan.]
[Footnote 3: The consuls, though they were chosen in August, did not enter
upon their office till the first of January, during which interval they were
styled consules designati, consuls elect. It was usual for them upon that
occasion to compliment the emperor, by whose appointment, after the
dissolution of the republican government, they were chosen. M.]
LXX
To Fabatus
I have the best reason, certainly, for celebrating your birthday as my
own, since all the happiness of mine arises from yours, to whose care and
diligence it is owing that I am gay here and at my ease in town. - Your
Camillian villa^1 in Campania has suffered by the injuries of time, and is
falling into decay; however, the most valuable parts of the building either
remain entire or are but slightly damaged, and it shall be my care to see it
put into thorough repair. - Though I flatter myself I have many friends, yet I
have scarcely any of the sort you enquire after, and which the affair you
mention demands. All mine lie among those whose employments engage them in
town; whereas the conduct of country business requires a person of a robust
constitution, and bred up to the country, to whom the work may not seem hard,
nor the office beneath him, and who does not feel a solitary life depressing.
You think most highly of Rufus, for he was a great friend of your son`s; but
of what use he can be to us upon this occasion, I cannot conceive; though I am
sure he will be glad to do all he can for us. Farewell.
[Footnote 1: So called, because it formerly belonged to Camillus. M.]
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