1. To Voconius Romanus
It is some years since Rome has had such a splendid sight to remember as the public funeral of Verginius Rufus, one of our greatest and most distinguished citizens whom we can also count a fortunate one. For thirty years after his hour of glory1 he lived on to read about himself in history and verse, so that he was a living witness of his fame to come. He was three times consul, and thus attained the highest distinction short of the imperial power itself; for this he had refused. His virtues had been suspected and resented by certain of the Emperors, but he had escaped arrest and lived to see a truly good and friendly ruler safely established; so that he might have been spared for the honour of this public funeral we have just seen. He had reached the age of eighty-three, living in close retirement and deeply respected by us all, and his health was good, apart from a trembling of the hands, not enough to trouble him. Only death when it came was slow and painful, though we can only admire the way he faced it. He was rehearsing the delivery of his address of thanks to the Emperor for his election to his third consulship, when he had occasion to take up a heavy book, the weight of which made it fall out of his hands, as he was an old man and standing at the time. He bent down to pick it up, and lost his footing on the slippery polished floor, so that he fell and fractured his thigh. This was badly set, and because of his age it never mended properly.
Such was the man whose funeral does credit to the Emperor and our times, to the forum and its speakers. His funeral oration was delivered by the consul, Cornelius Tacitus, a most eloquent orator, and his tribute put the crowning touch to Verginius’s good fortune. He died too when full of years and rich in honours, even those which he refused; and it is left to us to seek him and feel his loss as a figure from a past age. I shall feel it more than anyone, since my admiration for his public qualities was matched by personal affection. I had many reasons to love him; we came from the same district and neighbouring towns, and our lands and property adjoined each other; and then he was left by will as my guardian, and gave me a father’s affection. So when I was a candidate for office, he gave me the support of his vote, and when I entered upon my duties, he left his retirement to hasten to my side although he had long since given up social functions of that kind; and on the day when the priests nominate those they judge suitable for a priesthood, he always nominated me. Even during his last illness, when he was anxious not to be selected for the Board of Five set up by senatorial decree to reduce public expenditure, in spite of my youth he chose me to make his official excuses (although many of his friends and contemporaries of consular rank were still living), and told me that he would have entrusted this to me even if he had had a son of his own.
Hence I must ask you to bear with my grief at his death as if he had died before his time; if indeed it is right to grieve or even to give the name of death to what has ended the mortal existence rather than the life of so great a man. For he lives and will live for ever, and in a wider sense in our memories and on our lips, now that he has left our sight.
I intended to write to you about many other things, but Verginius takes up all my thoughts. I see him in my mind’s eye, and in these dreams, so vivid and so vain, I speak to him, he answers, and I feel his presence near. There may be some citizens with us now who can equal his merits, and there will be others, but none will win his fame.
2. To Valerius Paulinus
I am furious with you, rightly or not I don’t know, but it makes no difference. You know very well that love is sometimes unfair, often violent, and always quick to take offence, but I have good reason, whether or not it is a just one, to be as furious as I would be in a just cause. It is so long since I have had a letter from you. The only way to placate me is to write me a lot of letters now, at long last – lengthy ones, too. That is how you can honestly win my forgiveness; I shall not hear of anything else. Don’t say you were not in Rome or were too busy because I shan’t listen, only for heaven’s sake don’t tell me you were ill. I am in the country, dividing my time between the two pleasures of a holiday – reading and relaxation.
3. To Maecilius Nepos
Isaeus’s great reputation had reached Rome ahead of him, but we found him to be even greater than we had heard. He has a remarkably eloquent style, rich in variety, and though he always speaks extempore his speeches sound as though he had spent time on preparing them. He expresses himself in Greek, Attic to be precise; his introductory remarks have a neatness and polish which is very attractive, and can also be impressive in the grand style. His method is to ask his audience for a subject, leaving the choice and often the side he is to take with them; then he rises, wraps his cloak round him, and begins to speak. Whatever the subject he is ready at once, with every latent implication clear to him and expressed in words which are accurate and wellchosen; so that the extent of his reading and his practice in composition are immediately apparent. He comes straight to the point in his opening words, he is clear in exposition and penetrating in argument, he draws his conclusions boldly and expresses himself with dignity; it is in fact difficult to choose between his powers to instruct, to charm, or to move his hearers. He is ready with rhetorical figures and syllogisms, such as could not easily be worked out so concisely even in writing, and has an amazing memory, so that he can repeat his extempore speeches word for word without a single mistake, a technique he has developed by application and constant practice; for night and day every action and word of his are directed to this end alone.
He has reached the age of sixty, but has preferred to remain a teacher of rhetoric, keeping to a profession followed by some of the most genuinely sincere and honest of men. Those of us whose energies are wasted on the active litigation in the courts cannot help learning a good deal of sharp practice, but the imaginary cases in the schoolroom and lecture-hall do no harm with their blunted foils and are none the less enjoyable; especially to the old, who like nothing so much as to witness the joys of their youth. Consequently it seems to me that Isaeus’s gift of eloquence has also brought him very great happiness, and if you aren’t eager to meet him, you can’t have any human feeling at all. Nothing brings you to Rome, myself included, but do come to hear him. Have you never heard the story of the Spaniard from Gades?1 He was so stirred by the famous name of Livy that he came from his far corner of the earth to have one look at him and then went back again. Only a boorish ignorance and a shocking degree of apathy could prevent you from thinking it worth an effort to gain an experience which will prove so enjoyable, civilized and rewarding. You may say that you have authors as eloquent whose works can be read at home; but the fact is that you can read them any time, and rarely have the opportunity to hear the real thing. Besides, we are always being told that the spoken word is much more effective; however well a piece of writing makes its point, anything which is driven into the mind by the delivery and expression, tie appearance and gestures of a speaker remains deeply implanted there, unless there is no truth in the tale of Aeschines at Rhodes, who countered the general applause he won for his reading of one of Demosthenes’ speeches with the words: ‘Suppose you had heard the beast himself?’ And yet, if we are to believe Demosthenes, Aeschines had a very good voice; all the same, he admitted that the speech had been much better when its author delivered it himself.
All this goes to show that you ought to hear Isaeus – indeed, the sole purpose of this letter is to make sure you do.
4. To Calvina
If your father had died in debt to more than one person, or to anyone other than myself, you might perhaps have hesitated to accept an inheritance which even a man would have found a burden. But I thought it my duty as your relative to pay off anyone who was rather pressing, though not actually offensive, so as to be left sole creditor; and during your father’s lifetime I had contributed 100,000 sesterces towards your dowry on marriage in addition to what he had assigned you (which also came indirectly from me, as it could only be paid from his account with me). All this should be a firm guarantee of my generous feelings, and ought to give you confidence to defend your late father’s honour and reputation; to provide you also with practical encouragement I shall give instructions for his debt to me to be entered as paid. You need not fear that such a gift will tax my finances. It is true that my resources as a whole are not very great and my position is expensive to keep up; being dependent on the way my property is farmed, my income is small or precarious, but its deficiencies can be made up by simple living. This is the spring from which my well of kindness is supplied, and though I must not draw upon it without restraint, lest it dry up after too lavish a flow, I can keep my restraint for others; I can easily make my accounts balance in your case even if they have passed their usual figure.
5. To Lupercus
I am sending you the speech1 which you have often asked for and I have promised more than once, but not the whole of it yet, as part is still under revision. Meanwhile I thought that the more finished portions might suitably be handed over to you for your opinion. Please give them your close attention and write down your comments, for I have never handled any subject which demanded greater care. In my other speeches I have submitted to public opinion no more than my industry and good faith, but here my patriotic feelings were involved as well. Consequently the text has grown, for I was glad of the opportunity to pay a tribute of admiration to my native place, and at the same time not only to defend its interests but to bring it further fame. But these are the passages I want you to prune down as you think fit, for whenever I think of the whims and fancies of the reading public I realize that I can only win approval by keeping the text within bounds.
As well as this severity I am demanding from you I am compelled to ask for the exact opposite, that is, your indulgence for several passages. Some concessions must be made to a youthful audience, especially if the subject-matter permits; for example, descriptions of places (which are fairly frequent in this speech) may surely introduce a touch of poetry into plain prose. But, if anyone thinks that I have handled this subject too lightly for serious oratory, then his austerity, if I may call it so, will have to find appeasement in the rest of the speech. I have certainly tried to appeal to all the different types of reader by varying my style, and, though I am afraid that some people will disapprove of certain details because of their individual tastes, I still think I can be sure that the speech as a whole will be generally liked because of this variety. At a dinner party we may individually refuse several dishes, but we all praise the whole meal and the food which is not to our taste does not spoil our pleasure in what we do like.
I hope that you will understand by this not that I believe that I have achieved my aim, but that I have tried to so do; and perhaps my efforts will not have been in vain if you will only give your critical attention to what you have now, and afterwards to what follows. You may say that you need to have seen the whole speech if you are to do this accurately, and I realize this; but for the moment you can familiarize yourself with what I send, and there will be some passages which can be corrected apart from the whole. You could not judge whether the head or a limb of a statue is in proportion and harmonizes with the whole if you examine it detached from the trunk, but you could still decide if it was well formed in itself; and the only reason why books of selected extracts are circulated is because some passages are thought to be complete apart from their context.
It is a pleasure to talk to you, but I have run on too long; I must stop, or this letter will go beyond the bounds I think proper even for a speech.
6. To Junius Avitus
It would take too long to go into the details (which anyway don’t matter) of how I happened to be dining with a man - though no particular friend of his – whose elegant economy, as he called it, seemed to me a sort of stingy extravagance. The best dishes were set in front of himself and a select few, and cheap scraps of food before the rest of the company. He had even put the wine into tiny little flasks, divided into three categories, not with the idea of giving his guests the opportunity of choosing, but to make it impossible for them to refuse what they were given. One lot was intended for himself and for us, another for his lesser friends (all his friends are graded) and the third for his and our freedmen. My neighbour at table noticed this and asked me if I approved. I said I did not.’ So what do you do?’ he asked. ‘I serve the same to everyone, for when I invite guests it is for a meal, not to make class distinctions; I have brought them as equals to the same table, so I give them the same treatment in everything.’ ‘Even the freedmen?’ ‘Of course, for then they are my fellow-diners, not freedmen.’ ‘That must cost you a lot.’ ‘On the contrary.’ ‘How is that?’ ‘Because my freedmen do not drink the sort of wine I do, but I drink theirs.’ Believe me, if you restrain your greedy instincts it is no strain on your finances to share with several others the fare you have yourself. It is this greed which should be put down and’ reduced to the ranks’ if you would cut down your expenses, and you can do this far better by self-restraint than by insults to others. The point of this story is to prevent a promising young man like yourself from being taken in by (his extravagance under guise of economy which is to be found at the table in certain homes. Whenever I meet with such a situation, my affection for you prompts me to quote it as a warning example of what to avoid. Remember then that nothing is more to be shunned than this novel association of extravagance and meanness; vices which are bad enough when single and separate, but worse when found together.
7. To Caecilius Macrinus
Yesterday on the Emperor’s proposal the Senate decreed a triumphal statue to Vestricius Spurinna,1 an honour granted to many who have never faced a battle, never seen a camp nor even heard the sound of a trumpet except at the theatre; but Spurinna was one of those heroes whose honours were won by the blood and sweat of action. It was Spurinna who established the chief of the Bructeri in his kingdom by force of arms, and by mere threat of war against a savage people he terrorized it into submission, so winning the finest type of victory. Now he has his reward of merit; and to bring him consolation in grief the honour of a statue was also granted to Cottius, the son who had died during his absence abroad. This is rarely granted to a young man, but in this case it was also due to the father whose grievous sorrow needed some special remedy to assuage it. Cottius himself had also given such marked indication of his promise that some sort of immortality was required to extend a life thus cut short. His high principles, his sense of duty and influence were such as to make him rival his elders in merit, and he is now raised to be their equal in honour. And indeed, in granting this honour the Senate would seem to me to have had in mind not only Cottius’s memory and his father’s grief, but also the effect on the public. The granting of such high rewards to the young, provided that they are worthy of them, will win our young men to virtue; and with the prospect of happiness if their sons survive, and such splendid consolation if they die, our leading citizens will be encouraged to undertake the responsibility of children.
For these public considerations, then, I am glad about the statue to Cottius, as I am for personal reasons. I loved this excellent young man dearly, so that I miss him now unbearably; it will therefore be a pleasure for me to contemplate his statue, turn back to look at it, stand at its foot, and walk past it. We seek consolation in sorrow in the busts of our dead we set up in our homes; still more then should we find it in the statues standing in public places, for these can recall men’s fame and distinction as well as their forms and faces.
8. To Caninius Rufus
Are you reading, fishing, or hunting or doing all three? You can do all together on the shores of Como, for there is plenty of fish in the lake, game to hunt in the woods around, and every opportunity to study in the depths of your retreat. Whether it is everything or only one thing I can’t say I begrudge you your pleasures; I am only vexed at being denied them myself, for I hanker after them as a sick man does for wine, baths, and cool springs. I wonder if I shall ever be able to shake off these constricting fetters if I am not allowed to undo them, and I doubt if I ever shall. New business piles up on the old before the old is finished, and, as more and more links are added to the chain, I see my work stretching out farther and farther every day.
9. To Domitius Apollinaris
My friend Sextus Erucius is standing for office, and this is worrying me very much; in fact I feel far more anxious and apprehensive for my ‘second self than I ever did on my own account. Besides, my own honour, my reputation, and my position are all at stake, for it was I who persuaded the Emperor to raise Sextus to senatorial rank by granting him a quaestorship, and it is on my nomination that he is now standing for the office of tribune. If he is not elected by the Senate, I am afraid it will look as though I have deceived the Emperor; and so it is essential for me to see that everyone shares the high opinion which I led the Emperor to form.
Even if I had not this incentive I should still be anxious to support a young man of such outstanding merit, whose sense of duty is matched by his accomplishments and who is like all the rest of his family in deserving every form of praise. His father is Erucius Clarus, a model of ancient virtue and a skilled and practised advocate, who conducts all his cases with the utmost honesty and determination, equalled by his discretion. His uncle, Gaius Septicius, is the most genuinely reliable, frank and trustworthy man I know. The family is united in its affection for me, though each member tries to show it most, and now is my chance to show my gratitude to them all by helping one of them. Consequently I am approaching all my friends to beg their support, and going the round of private houses and public places, testing what influence and popularity I have by my entreaties; and I do beg you to think it worth while to relieve me of a part of my burden. I will do the same for you, asked or unasked. You are popular, admired, and much sought after; you have only to make your wishes plain, and there will be no lack of people positively anxious to think as you do.
10. To Octavius Rufus
Is it indifference, obstinacy, or a sort of cruelty which makes you withhold works of such distinction so long? How much longer will you deny us our pleasure and yourself your crowning glory? They should be on all our lips, to travel as widely as the speech of Rome. Our hopes have long been high, and you ought not still to cheat and defer them. Some of your verses have broken free in spite of you and have become more widely known; unless you recall them to be incorporated in the whole, like runaway slaves they will find someone else to claim them. Bear in mind that you are bound by man’s mortality, but that this one memorial of yourself can set you free: everything else is fragile and fleeting like man himself, who dies and is no more. You will give your usual answer; that your friends can see to this. I only hope that you have friends who combine learning with loyalty and industry so that they are able as well as willing to undertake such a difficult and laborious task; but ask yourself whether it is not ill-advised to expect from others a service which you will not perform for yourself.
As for publication – do as you like for the present, as long as you give some readings. You may then feel more inclined to publish, and will at least have the pleasure which I have long been confidently anticipating for you. I picture to myself the crowds, the admiration and applause which await you, and the hushed stillness – for I personally like this as much as applause when I am speaking or reading, as long as it indicates a keen attentiveness and eagerness to hear what follows. A great reward awaits you, and you must stop denying your work its due by your interminable hesitation; for if this goes too far there is a danger that it will be given another name – idleness, indolence, or possibly timidity.
11. To Maturus Arrianus
You are always glad to hear of anything taking place in the Senate which is in keeping with its dignity, for though you have chosen to live in retirement in search of a quiet life you have kept your interest in the honour of the State. So here is the news of the last few days – a case which has attracted attention because of the celebrity of the defendant, has set an example of severity which will do a great deal of good, and is unlikely to be forgotten because of the importance of the issue involved.
A charge was brought by the province of Africa against their ex-governor, Marius Priscus.1 He pleaded guilty and applied for a commission to assess compensation to be paid. Cornelius Tacitus and I were instructed to act for the provincials, and accordingly thought it our duty to inform the Senate that criminal offences of such monstrosity exceeded the powers of a commission, seeing that Priscus had taken bribes to sentence innocent persons to punishment and even to death. Catius Fronto replied in his defence with a plea for the charge to be limited to the question of restitution of money extorted, and, as he is practised in the art of drawing tears, he was able to fill all the sails of his speech with a breeze of pathos. There was a violent argument and an outcry all round, one side arguing that the Senate’s judicial powers were limited by law, the other that they were free and unlimited and that the defendant should be punished to the full extent of his guilt. Finally Julius Ferox, the consul-elect, whose integrity always commands respect, proposed that Priscus should be provisionally granted a commission, but that the persons named as having given bribes to procure the conviction of the innocent should be summoned as witnesses. Not only was this proposal carried but it was in fact the only one to gain much support after all the previous argument; experience shows that appeals for support and sympathy make an immediate strong impact, but gradually lose their fire and die down under the influence of a reasoned judgement. Hence the fact that in a general uproar many will support an opinion which no one is prepared to defend when silence is restored, for only when separated from the crowd is it possible to form a clear view of a situation which the crowd hitherto obscured.
The two witnesses, Vitellius Honoratus and Flavius Marcianus, were summoned to appear and duly arrived in Rome. Honoratus was charged with having procured the exile of a Roman knight and the death of seven of the latter’s friends for a bribe of 300,000 sesterces, and Marcianus with having paid 700,000 for various punishments inflicted on a Roman knight, who had been flogged, condemned to the mines, and finally strangled in prison. However, Honoratus escaped justice at the hands of the Senate by his timely death, and Marcianus appeared in court in the absence of Priscus. Accordingly the ex-consul Tuccius Cerialis exercised the senatorial right to speak by demanding that Priscus be informed, thinking that either he would excite more sympathy or possibly more indignation by his presence, or, more probably to my mind, because it is common justice that a charge made against two persons should be defended by both of them, and both should be convicted if unable to clear themselves.
The hearing was adjourned until the next meeting of the Senate, and this was a most impressive sight. The Emperor presided (being consul), and this was the month of January when there are always large numbers of people and particularly senators in Rome. Then the gravity of the case, the rumours and expectations increased by the adjournment, and the natural curiosity of human nature for anything new and important had attracted members from all parts. You can imagine our nervous anxiety at having to speak on such a subject before the Emperor, and in an assembly of this kind. It is true that I have often addressed the Senate, and nowhere do I receive a more sympathetic hearing, but this time all the unusual features of the case made me unusually nervous. For, as well as the problems I have described, I was confronted with the special difficulties of the case. Before me stood a man who had up till recently been of consular rant and a member of one of the priestly colleges,1 and was now degraded; as he was thus condemned, it was extremely difficult to make him the subject of a prosecuting speech, for in spite of the weight of, the horrible charges against him he had in his favour a certain amount of sympathy aroused by his previous conviction.
However, I managed to pull myself and my thoughts together, and began to speak, meeting with a warm reception to make up for my fears. My speech lasted for nearly five hours, for I was allowed four water-clocks as well as my original twelve of the largest size; thus all those difficulties I had anticipated in my path were dispelled when I came to speak. The Emperor did indeed show such an attentive and kindly interest in me (I should not like to call it anxiety on my behalf) that more than once, when he fancied I was putting too much strain on my rather delicate constitution, he suggested to my freedman standing behind me that I should spare my voice and my lungs. Claudius Marcellinus replied on behalf of Marcianus, after which the court adjourned until the following day; any further speech would have had to be cut short at nightfall.
Next day Salvius Liberalis spoke in defence of Priscus. He is a precise and methodical speaker with a forceful command of words, and this case brought all his powers into full play. Cornelius Tacitus made an eloquent speech in reply, with all the majesty which characterizes his style of oratory. Catius Fronto resumed the defence and made an excellent speech, which at this stage he thought best to apply to pleas for mercy rather than defensive arguments. He finished speaking at the end of the day, but did not have to cut short his words. The summing-up was accordingly postponed until the third day, thereby following a good and long-established precedent in the Senate of interrupting proceedings at nightfall and resuming them next day in a continuous three-day session.
Cornutus Tertullus, the consul-elect, who always stands out for his strict adherence to the truth, then proposed that the bribe of 700,000 sesterces which Priscus had taken should be paid by him into the Treasury, that Priscus should be exiled from Rome and Italy, and Marcianus from Rome, Italy, and Africa. He ended his speech by stating on behalf of the Senate that, by our conscientious and courageous handling of the prosecution entrusted to us, Tacitus and I were considered to have correctly carried out the duty assigned us. The consuls-elect supported him and so did all the consulars down to Pompeius Collega, who then proposed that the 700,000 sesterces should be paid into the Treasury and Marcianus banished for five years, but that Priscus should receive no sentence beyond the one already passed on him for extorting money. Both proposals found many supporters, especially the second one, being less severe, or if you prefer, more lenient; and there were some who seemed to be in agreement with Cornutus but went over to Collega after they heard him speak. But, when the division was taken, first the members standing by the consuls’ chairs began to go over to Cornutus’s side, then those who were letting themselves be counted with Collega crossed the floor, so that Collega was left with scarcely anyone. He complained bitterly afterwards about those who had led him on, especially Regulus, who had actually told him what to say and then deserted him. (Regulus’s instability generally leads him into rash ventures which he afterwards regrets.)
So ended this important trial. There is still a minor matter, though not unimportant, concerning Priscus’s deputy, Hostilius Firminus, who was implicated in the charge and, indeed, very heavily involved. It was proved from the accounts of Marcianus and from a speech made by Firminus in the town-council of Lepcis that he had helped Priscus in a particularly shocking piece of work, and had also bargained with Marcianus to receive 200,000 sesterces; and he had in fact been paid 10,000 under the disgraceful head of ‘cosmetics’ – an entry quite in keeping with his dandified elegance. The Senate adopted Cornutus’s proposal to refer his case to the next session; for, either by chance or through knowledge of his guilt, Firminus was not present.
So much for the city. Now give me news of the country – how are your fruit trees and your vines, the harvest and your prize sheep? Unless you answer me in as long a letter as this, you can expect nothing in future but the shortest note.
12. To Maturus Arrianus
That ‘minor matter’ which I said in my last letter was left over from the case of Marius Priscus, is settled and done with, though it could have been better handled. Firminus was summoned before the Senate to answer the charge already known. Then the consuls-elect failed to agree on a sentence; Cornutus Tertullus proposed that he should be expelled from the Senate, but Acutius Nerva thought it sufficient if his claim were not considered when lots were drawn for provinces. This was the opinion which prevailed as being the more lenient, though in another sense it is more cruelly severe. Nothing could be worse than to be stripped of all the privileges of senatorial rank but not to be rid of its toils and troubles, and nothing more humiliating for anyone so disgraced than to remain in his conspicuous position exposed as a marked man to the public gaze instead of hiding himself in retirement. And besides, nothing could be more unsuitable or less conducive to the public interest than for a senator to retain his seat after he has been censured by the Senate, to remain equal in status to those who censured him, and though debarred from a governorship for his disgraceful conduct as governor’s deputy to retain his power of passing judgement on other governors, to condemn or acquit them on charges on which he has himself been found guilty. But the majority gave their assent; for votes are counted, their value is not weighed, and no other method is possible in a public assembly. Yet this strict equality results in something very different from equity, so long as men have the same right to judge but not the same ability to judge wisely.
I have kept my word and the promise I made you in my previous letter, which I think must have reached you, judging by the date. I gave it to a fast and reliable courier – unless he has been delayed on the road. Now it is your turn to pay me for both these letters; there can be no lack of news from your part of the world.
13. To Javolenus (?) Priscus
You would gladly seize any opportunity to oblige me, and there is no one to whom I would rather be in debt than to you. So for two reasons I have singled you out to approach with a request which I am most anxious to be granted. Your command of a large army gives you a plentiful source of benefits to confer, and secondly, your tenure has been long enough for you to have provided for your own friends’. Turn to mine – they are not many. You might wish them more, but modesty restricts me to one or two and the one I have most in mind is Voconius Romanus.
His father was distinguished in the order of knights; even more so was his stepfather, whom I should rather call his other father for his kindness to his stepson; his mother comes from a leading family. He himself recently held a priesthood in Hither Spain, a province well known to you for its high principles and good judgement. He was my close and intimate friend when we were students together, my companion in the city and out of it; with him I shared everything, work and play. No one could be a more faithful friend or more delightful companion. His conversation, voice, and whole expression have a special charm, and he is gifted besides with a powerful and penetrating intellect, trained by his profession at the bar to express itself with ease and grace. In addition, the letters he writes would make one believe that the Muses speak Latin. I love him dearly, as he does me. Ever since our youth together I have been anxious to do as much for him as my age permitted, and I recently obtained for him from our noble Emperor the privileges granted to parents of three children;1 the Emperor used to grant this sparingly and after careful selection, but he granted my request as if the choice were his own. The best way for me to confirm my services is by adding to them, especially as Romanus’s grateful appreciation in acceptance reveals him as worthy of more.
Now you know the man he is and how much I love and admire him, please provide for him as your generous nature and position permit. What is most important is that you should like him; for though you grant him the highest office in your power, you could give him nothing better than your friendship. It was to show you that he is worthy of it and even of your closest intimacy that I have thus briefly described his interests and character, in short his whole life. I would prolong my entreaties did you not dislike long begging letters, of which I am afraid this is one; for to be effective a request must give its reasons.
14. To Novius (?) Maximus
You are quite right: cases at the Centumviral Court are taking up all my time, and give me more work than pleasure. Most of them are petty affairs and there is rarely one which stands out for the importance of the issue or the celebrity of the persons involved. There are besides very few people with whom it is any pleasure to appear if you consider the impudence of the rest – mostly unknown youngsters who have arrived in our midst to practise rhetoric: which they do with such effrontery and want of consideration that I think our friend Atilius summed them up well when he said that boys begin their career at the bar with Centumviral cases just as they start on Homer at school. In both places they put the hardest first. But before my time (as our elders always say), believe me, there was no place here for a young man, however well-born, unless a consular senator introduced him; so highly was a noble profession respected. Today the bars of propriety and deference are down, everything is open to all and sundry, and no introductions are needed for anyone to burst in.
Audiences follow who are no better than the speakers, being hired and bought for the occasion. They parley with the contractor, take the gifts offered on the floor of the court as openly as they would at a dinner-party, and move on from case to case for the same sort of pay. The Greek name for them means ‘bravo-callers’ and the Latin ‘dinner-clappers’; witty enough, but both names expose a scandal which increases daily. Yesterday two of my attendants (who would only just have come of age if they were citizens) were induced to add their applause for three denarii1 each. That is all it costs you to have your eloquence acclaimed. For this sum seats can be filled, any number of them, a huge crowd assembled, and endless cheering raised whenever the chorus-master gives the signal. (A signal there must be for people who neither understand nor even hear; most of them do not listen but cheer as loud as anyone.) If you happen to be passing the court and want to know about the speakers, there is no need to come on to the bench or pay attention to the proceedings; it is easy to guess – the man who raises most cheers is the worst speaker.
Larcius Licinus was the first to introduce this way of getting together an audience, but he went no further than sending invitations. At least that is what I remember hearing from my tutor Quintilian. He used to tell this story: ‘I was working under Domitius Afer, who was addressing the Centumviri in his usual impressive and measured tones when he heard an extraordinary noise of loud shouting near by. He stopped speaking in amazement. Then silence was restored and he resumed his speech where he had broken off. Again the uproar, again he stopped, and when there was silence began again. The same thing happened a third time, and at last he asked who was speaking. “Licinus,” was the answer. At that he abandoned his case: “Gentlemen,” he said, “this means death to our profession.’” In fact it was only dying when Afer believed it dead; now its ruin and destruction are almost complete. I am ashamed to describe the speeches of today, the mincing accents in which they are delivered, and the puerile applause they receive. That sort of sing-song needs only the clapping and cymbals and tambourines of Cybele to complete it, for of howling (no other word can express this applause which would be indecent even in the theatre) there is more than enough. However, I still stay on; but only through my wish to be of service to my friends and the thought that if I leave at my age it might look like an escape from work rather than a withdrawal from these disgraceful scenes. But my appearances are less frequent than they used to be, and this is the first step towards a gradual retirement.
15. To Julius Valerianus
How is your old Marsian1 place? and the new purchase? Are you pleased with the new property now that it is yours ? It rarely happens -nothing is quite so attractive in our possession as it was when coveted. My mother’s property is treating me badly; still I love it for being my mother’s, and, besides, long suffering has toughened me. Everlasting complaints come to an end through the shame of complaining further.
16. To Annius Severus (?)
It is like you to be punctilious about reminding me that the codicil left by Acilianus making me heir to part of his property must be held invalid because its existence is not confirmed in his will; but even I am aware of this point of law, which people generally know even if they know no other. I have in fact laid down a private law for myself whereby I treat the wishes of the deceased as formally expressed though they may not be legally binding. It is beyond doubt that this codicil of Acilianus is written in his own hand; therefore I intend to carry out its instructions as if it was confirmed in the will, though in fact it is not, especially as there is no longer any risk of prosecution. For, if I had any reason to fear that a gift I made from this bequest might be officially confiscated, I ought perhaps to pause and act with caution; but an heir is free now to give away what has come to him by inheritance. There is nothing then in the laws of the land in conflict with my private law, so nothing to prevent my acting on it.
17. To Gallus
You may wonder why my Laurentine place (or my Laurentian, if you like that better) is such a joy to me, but once you realize the attractions of the house itself, the amenities of its situation, and its extensive sea-front, you will have your answer. It is seventeen miles from Rome, so that it is possible to spend the night there after necessary business is done, without having cut short or hurried the day’s work, and it can be approached by more than one route; the roads to Laurentum and Ostia both lead in that direction, but you must leave the one at the fourteenth milestone and the other at the eleventh. Whichever way you go, the side road you take is sandy for some distance and rather heavy and slow-going if you drive, but soft and easily covered on horseback. The view on either side is full of variety, for sometimes the road narrows as it passes through the woods, and then it broadens and opens out through wide meadows where there are many flocks of sheep and herds of horses and cattle driven down from the mountains in winter to grow sleek on the pastures in the springlike climate.
The house1 is large enough for my needs but not expensive to keep up. It opens into a hall [A], unpretentious but not without dignity, and then there are two colonnades, rounded like the letter D, which enclose a small but pleasant courtyard [B]. This makes a splendid retreat in bad weather, being protected by windows and still more by the overhanging roof. Opposite the middle of it is a cheerful inner hall [c], and then a dining-room [D] which really is rather fine: it runs out towards the shore, and whenever the sea is driven inland by the south-west wind it is lightly washed by the spray of the spent breakers. It has folding doors or windows as large as the doors all round, so that at the front and sides it seems to look out on to three seas, and at the back has a view through the inner hall, the courtyard with the two colonnades, and the entrance-hall to the woods and mountains in the distance.
To the left of this and a little farther back from the sea is a large bedroom [E], and then another smaller one [F] which lets in the morning sunshine with one window and holds the last rays of the evening sun with the other; from this window too is a view of the sea beneath, this time at a safe distance. In the angle of this room and the dining-room is a corner which retains and intensifies the concentrated warmth of the sun, and this is the winter-quarters and gymnasium of my household [G] for no winds can be heard there except those which bring the rain clouds, and the place can still be used after the weather has broken. Round the corner is a room built round in an apse to let in the sun as it moves round and shines in each window in turn, and with one wall fitted with shelves like a library to hold the books which I read and read again [H]. Next comes a bedroom [I] on the other side of a passage which has a floor raised and fitted with pipes to receive hot steam and circulate it at a regulated temperature. The remaining rooms on this side of the house are kept for the use of my slaves and freedmen, but most of them are quite presentable enough to receive guests [J].
On the other side of the dining-room is an elegantly decorated bedroom [K], and then one which can either be a bedroom or a moderate-sized dining-room [L] and enjoys the bright light of the sun reflected from the sea; behind is another room with an antechamber, high enough to be cool in summer and a refuge in winter, for it is sheltered from every wind. A similar room and antechamber are divided off by a single wall [M]. Then comes the cooling-room of the bath, which is large and spacious and has two curved baths built out of opposite walls; these are quite large enough if you consider that the sea is so near. Next come die oiling-room, the furnace-room, and the antechamber to the bath, and then two rest-rooms, beautifully decorated in a simple style [N], leading to the heated swimming-bath [O] which is much admired and from which swimmers can see the sea. Close by is the ball-court [P] which receives the full warmth of the setting sun. Here there is a second storey, with two living-rooms below and two above, as well as a dining-room which commands the whole expanse of sea and stretch of shore with all its lovely houses [Q]. Elsewhere another upper storey contains a room which receives both the rising and setting sun, and a good-sized wine-store and granary behind, while below is a dining-room [H] where nothing is known of a high sea but the sound of the breakers, and even that as a dying murmur; it looks on to the garden and the encircling drive.
All round the drive runs a hedge of box, or rosemary to fill any gaps, for box will flourish extensively where it is sheltered by the buildings, but dries up if exposed in the open to the wind and salt spray even at a distance. Inside the inner ring of the drive is a young and shady vine pergola [S], where the soil is soft and yielding even to the bare foot The garden itself is thickly planted with mulberries and figs, trees which the soil bears very well though it is less kind to others. On this side the dining-room away from the sea has a view as lovely as that of the sea itself, while from the windows of the two rooms behind [T] can be seen the entrance to the house and another well-stocked kitchen garden [U].
Here begins a covered arcade [V] nearly as large as a public building. It has windows on both sides, but more facing the sea, as there is one in each alternate bay on the garden side. These all stand open on a fine and windless day, and in stormy weather can safely be opened on the side away from the wind. In front is a terrace [W] scented with violets. As the sun beats down, the arcade increases its heat by reflection and not only retains the sun but keeps off the north-east wind so that it is as hot in front as it is cool behind. In the same way it checks the south-west wind, thus breaking die force of winds from wholly opposite quarters by one or the other of its sides; it is pleasant in winter but still more so in summer when the terrace is kept cool in the morning and the drive and nearer part of the garden in the afternoon, as its shadow falls shorter or longer on one side or the other while the day advances or declines. Inside the arcade, of course, there is least sunshine when the sun is blazing down on its roof, and as its open windows allow the western breezes to enter and circulate, the atmosphere is never heavy with stale air.
At the far end of the terrace, the arcade and the garden is a suite of rooms [X] which are really and truly my favourites, for I had them built myself. Here is a sun-parlour facing the terrace on one side, the sea on the other, and the sun on both. There is also a room which has folding doors opening on to the arcade and a window looking out on the sea. Opposite the intervening wall is a beautifully designed alcove which can be thrown into the room by folding back its glass doors and curtains, or cut off from it if they are closed: it is large enough to hold a couch and two arm-chairs, and has the sea at its foot, the neighbouring villas behind, and the woods beyond, views which can be seen separately from its many windows or blended into one. Next to it is a bedroom for use at night which neither the voices of my household, die sea’s murmur, nor the noise of a storm can penetrate, any more than the lightning’s flash and light of day unless the shutters are open. This profound peace and seclusion are due to the dividing passage which runs between the room and the garden so that any noise is lost in the intervening space. A tiny furnace-room is built on here, and by a narrow outlet retains or circulates the heat underneath as required. Then there is an ante-room and a second bedroom, built out to face the sun and catch its rays the moment it rises, and retain them until after midday, though by then at an angle. When I retire to this suite I feel as if I have left my house altogether and much enjoy the sensation: especially during the Saturnalia1 when the rest of the roof resounds with festive cries in the holiday freedom, for I am not disturbing my household’s merrymaking nor they my work.
Only one thing is needed to complete the amenities and beauty of the house – running water; but there are wells, or rather springs, for they are very near the surface. It is in fact a remarkable characteristic of this shore that wherever you dig you come upon water at once which is pure and not in the least brackish, although the sea is so near. The woods close by provide plenty of firewood, and the town of Ostia supplies us with everything else. There is also a village, just beyond the next house, which can satisfy anyone’s modest needs, and here there are three baths for hire, a great convenience if a sudden arrival or too short a stay makes us reluctant to heat up the bath at home. The sea-front gains much from the pleasing variety of the houses built either in groups or far apart; from the sea or shore these look like a number of cities. The sand on the shore is sometimes too soft for walking after a long spell of fine weather, but more often it is hardened by the constant washing of the waves. The sea has admittedly few fish of any value, but it gives us excellent soles and prawns, and all inland produce is provided by the house, especially milk: for the herds collect there from the pastures whenever they seek water and shade.
And now do you think I have a good case for making this retreat my haunt and home where I love to be? You are too polite a townsman if you don’t covet it! But I hope you will, for then the many attractions of my treasured house will have another strong recommendation in your company.
18. To Junius Mauricus
There is nothing you could ask me to do which I should like better than to look for a tutor for your brother’s children. Thanks to you I have gone back to school and am reliving the happiest days of my life. I take my seat among the young men as I did in my youth; I am even finding how much consideration my own work has brought me from the younger generation. Only the other day, in a full lecture-room, they were joking amongst themselves in the presence of several senators. Then I came in and there was silence. I only mention this because it reflects more on their credit than on mine, and I want you to feel confident that there is no reason why your nephews should not be well-behaved students.
It remains for me to write and give you my opinion on each of the lecturers when I have heard them all, and, as far as a letter can, to make you feel you have heard them yourself. All my loyalty and devotion are yours to command in the service of your brother’s memory, especially in a decision of such importance; for nothing could be of graver concern to you both than that these children (I should call them your children, did you not already love them more than your own) should be found worthy of the father he was and the uncle you are to them now. It is a duty I should have claimed myself, had you not entrusted it to me. I know very well the risk of giving offence in choosing a tutor, but that I must accept – and also the possibility of making enemies for myself- on behalf of your brother’s children as cheerfully as parents do for their own.
19. To Tuccius (?) Cerialis
You urge me to give a reading of my speech to a group of friends. I will since you ask it, but with many misgivings. I know very well that speeches when read lose all their warmth and spirit, almost their entire character, since their fire is always fed from the atmosphere of court: the bench of magistrates and throng of advocates, the suspense of the awaited verdict, reputation of the different speakers, and the divided enthusiasm of the public; and they gain too from the gestures of the speaker as he strides to and fro, the movements of his body corresponding to his changing passions. (Hence the loss to anyone who delivers his speech sitting down – he is at a real disadvantage by the mere fact of being seated, though he may be as gifted generally as the speakers who stand.) Moreover, a man who is giving a reading has the two chief aids to his delivery (eyes and hands) taken up with his text, so it is not surprising if the attention of his audience wavers when there is no adventitious attraction to hold it nor stimulus to keep it aroused.
Furthermore, this is a fighting speech, disputatious if you like, and it is besides natural for us to think that what we found an effort to write will also demand an effort on the part of our hearers. There are certainly very few members of an audience sufficiently trained to prefer a stiff, close-knit argument to fine-sounding words. Such a disparity shocks, but it exists: for in general a bench of magistrates and an audience have very different demands, though a listener should really be influenced most by what would convince him if he were called on to pronounce judgement. However, it may be that in spite of these difficulties the speech you have in mind will gain from its novelty – at any rate in our own country, for the Greeks have a somewhat similar practice, though with the opposite intent. To demonstrate that a law was contrary to previous legislation their method of proof was by comparison with other laws; so to show that my accusation was covered by the law dealing with the extortion of money I had to base my argument on the analogy of other laws as well. This cannot have any appeal for the ordinary man, but its interest for the professional should be proportionately greater for the lack of it for the layman. It is certainly my intention, if I agree to this reading, to invite all the legal experts.
But now think carefully whether I ought to give one at all. Set out on both sides all the arguments I have put forward, and make your decision with good reason. You are the one who will have to produce the reason: I have an excuse by complying with your wishes.
20. To Calvisius Rufus
Have your copper ready and hear a first-rate story, or rather stories, for the new one has reminded me of others and it doesn’t matter which I tell first. Piso’s widow Verania was lying seriously ill – I mean the Piso Galba adopted. Along comes Regulus. What impudence – to intrude on her sickness when he had been her husband’s deadly enemy and she hated the sight of him! The visit alone is bad enough, but he sits down by her bed and asks her the day and hour of her birth; after which he puts on a grave look and a fixed stare, moves his lips, works his fingers, and does sums. Then silence. After keeping the poor woman in suspense for a long time, he speaks: ‘You are going through a danger period, out of which you will pass. However, to rid you of any doubts, I will consult a soothsayer with whom I have often had dealings.’ Without delay he then performs a sacrifice and declares that the entrails accord with the planetary signs. Feeling her life in danger, Verania is ready to believe him; she asks for a codicil to be added to her will and puts Regulus down for a legacy. Subsequently she grows worse and dies, calling aloud on the wickedness and treachery, the worse than perjury of the man who swore her a false oath on the life of his son. This is the kind of scandalous thing Regulus is always doing, calling down the wrath of the gods (which he always manages to escape himself) on to the head of his unfortunate boy.
Velleius Blaesus is well known as an ex-consul and a rich man. He wished to alter his will on his death-bed, and Regulus was hoping for something from the new one as he had just begun courting Blaesus. He therefore begs and implores the doctors to prolong the man’s life in some way. Once the will is signed there is a change of front, and the same doctors are attacked to know how long they intend to torture the poor man and why they grudge him an easy death when they cannot give him life. Blaesus dies; he might have heard the whole story, for he leaves Regulus nothing.
Are two stories enough, or do you want another according to the rule of three? There are more to come. The noble lady Aurelia had dressed in her best for the ceremony of signing her will. When Regulus arrived to witness her signature, he asked her to leave these clothes to him. Aurelia thought he was joking, but he pressed the point in all seriousness, and to cut a long story short, he forced her to open the will and leave him what she was wearing; he watched her writing and looked to see if she had done so. Aurelia is in feet alive today, but he forced this on her as if she were on the point of death. And this is the man who accepts estates and legacies as if they were his due.
‘But why do I rouse myself’1 over this, when I live in a country which has long offered the same (or even greater) rewards to dishonesty and wickedness as it does to honour and merit? Look at Regulus, who has risen by his evil ways from poverty and obscurity to such great wealth that he told me himself when he was trying to divine how soon he would be worth sixty million sesterces he had found a double set of entrails which were a sign that he would have twice that sum. So he will, too, if he goes on in the way he has begun, dictating wills which are not their own to the very people who are wanting to make them: the most immoral kind of fraud there is.