Pliny the Younger•EPISTVLARVM LIBRI DECEM
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1 Post aliquot annos insigne atque etiam memorabile populi Romani oculis spectaculum exhibuit publicum funus Vergini Rufi, maximi et clarissimi civis, perinde felicis. 2 Triginta annis gloriae suae supervixit; legit scripta de se carmina, legit historias et posteritati suae interfuit. Perfunctus est tertio consulatu, ut summum fastigium privati hominis impleret, cum principis noluisset.
1 After several years, the public funeral of Verginius Rufus, a very great and most illustrious citizen, equally fortunate, exhibited to the eyes of the Roman people a distinguished and even memorable spectacle. 2 He outlived his own glory by thirty years; he read poems written about himself, he read histories, and he was present to his own posterity. He discharged a third consulship, in order to fill the highest pinnacle of a private man, since he had not wished that of a princeps.
3 He escaped the Caesars to whom he had been suspect and even hated for his virtues, and left unharmed the best and most friendly man, as though reserved for this very honor of a public funeral. 4 He passed away in his eighty-third year, in the loftiest tranquility, with equal veneration. He enjoyed firm health, except that his hands used to tremble, yet without pain.
Only the approach of death was harder and longer, but this very thing was praiseworthy. 5 For when he was preparing his voice, being about to deliver thanks to the emperor in his consulship, a rather large book which he had chanced to take up slipped by its own weight from him, he being both elderly and standing. While he follows it and picks it up, over the smooth and slippery pavement, his footing failing, he fell and broke his hip, which, set not very aptly, with age resisting, knit poorly.
6 Huius viri exsequiae magnum ornamentum principi magnum saeculo magnum etiam foro et rostris attulerunt. Laudatus est a consule Cornelio Tacito; nam hic supremus felicitati eius cumulus accessit, laudator eloquentissimus. 7 Et ille quidem plenus annis abit, plenus honoribus, illis etiam quos recusavit: nobis tamen quaerendus ac desiderandus est ut exemplar aevi prioris, mihi vero praecipue, qui illum non solum publice quantum admirabar tantum diligebam; 8 primum quod utrique eadem regio, municipia finitima, agri etiam possessionesque coniunctae, praeterea quod ille mihi tutor relictus affectum parentis exhibuit.
6 The obsequies of this man brought great ornament to the princeps, great to the age, great even to the forum and the rostra. He was lauded by the consul Cornelius Tacitus; for here the supreme crown was added to his felicity—a most eloquent laudator. 7 And he indeed departs full of years, full of honors, even of those which he refused; yet to us he is to be sought and longed for as an exemplar of a former age, and to me especially, who not only in public loved him as much as I admired him; 8 first, because the same region belonged to us both, our municipalities were bordering, and even our fields and properties were conjoined; besides, because he, left to me as a guardian, displayed a parent’s affection.
Thus he adorned me as a candidate with his suffrage; thus he ran up from his retreats to all my honors, although long before he had renounced duties of this sort; thus on that day on which the priests are accustomed to nominate those whom they judge most worthy of the priesthood, he would always nominate me. 9 Nay even in this very last illness, fearing lest perchance he be appointed among the five-men, who were being established by the judgment of the senate for the lessening of public expenditures, although so many friends, elderly and consulars, still remained to him, he chose me, of this age, through whom he might be excused, with these very words: 'Even if I had a son, I would entrust it to you.'
10 Quibus ex causis necesse est tamquam immaturam mortem eius in sinu tuo defleam, si tamen fas est aut flere aut omnino mortem vocare, qua tanti viri mortalitas magis finita quam vita est. 11 Vivit enim vivetque semper, atque etiam latius in memoria hominum et sermone versabitur, postquam ab oculis recessit. 12 Volo tibi multa alia scribere, sed totus animus in hac una contemplatione defixus est.
10 For these reasons it is necessary that I bewail his, as it were, premature death in your bosom—if indeed it is right either to weep or even to call it “death” at all—by which the mortality of so great a man has been rather finished than his life. 11 For he lives and will live forever, and will even be turned more widely in the memory of men and in discourse, after he has withdrawn from the eyes. 12 I wish to write many other things to you, but my whole mind is fixed on this one contemplation.
1 Irascor, nec liquet mihi an debeam, sed irascor. Scis, quam sit amor iniquus interdum, impotens saepe, μικραίτιος semper. Haec tamen causa magna est, nescio an iusta; sed ego, tamquam non minus iusta quam magna sit, graviter irascor, quod a te tam diu litterae nullae.
1 I am angry, nor is it clear to me whether I ought to be, but I am angry. You know how love is inequitable sometimes, impotent often, always captious. Yet this cause is great, I know not whether just; but I, as though it were no less just than great, am grievously angry, because from you for so long there have been no letters.
2 You can appease me in one way only, if now at least you send very many and very long letters. This is to me the sole true excuse; the others will seem false. I am not going to listen to 'I was not at Rome' or 'I was more occupied'; and may the gods not even allow this, that 'I was more infirm.' I myself at the villa enjoy partly studies, partly idleness, both of which are born from leisure.
2 He calls for several controversies; he permits the choice to the auditors, often even the sides; he rises, is robed, begins; straightway everything, and almost simultaneously, is at hand, recondite thoughts present themselves, words - but what words! - sought out and polished. Much reading in what is sudden shines forth, much writing likewise.
Incredible memory: he goes back further over what he has said ex tempore, he does not slip even by a single word. 4 He has attained to such a hexis by zeal and exercise; for by day and by night he does nothing else, hears nothing, says nothing. 5 He has passed his sixtieth year and is still only a scholastic: than which kind of men nothing is either more sincere or more simple or better.
For we, who are worn down in the forum and by true litigations, learn much malice, although we do not wish it: 6 the school and auditorium and the fictitious cause is an unarmed, innocuous matter, and no less felicitous, especially for old men. For what in old age is more felicitous than that which is sweetest in youth? 7 Wherefore I judge Isaeus not only most eloquent, but indeed most blessed.
Unless you long to become acquainted with him, you are stone and iron. 8 Therefore, if not on other accounts and for our own sakes, at least come so that you may hear him. Have you never read that a certain Gaditanian, stirred by the name and glory of Titus Livius, came to see him from the farthest edge of the world, and straightway, as soon as he had seen, went away? Aphilocal, illiterate, inert, and almost even shameful it is, not to reckon as worth so much the acquaintance, than which none is more pleasant, none more beautiful, none, finally, more humane.
9 You will say: 'I have here those whom I may read, no less eloquent.' Granted; but there is always an occasion for reading, not always for hearing. Besides, much more, as the common saying goes, the living voice affects. For although the things you read may be sharper, yet those things sit more deeply in the mind which delivery fixes—expression, bearing, gesture—of the speaker as well; 10 unless indeed we think false that saying of Aeschines, who, when he had read to the Rhodians the oration of Demosthenes, all admiring, is said to have added: 'But what then, if you had heard the beast himself?' and Aeschines—if we believe Demosthenes—was most sonorous-voiced. Yet he admitted that the selfsame things were far better delivered by the very man who had produced them.
1 Si pluribus pater tuus vel uni cuilibet alii quam mihi debuisset, fuisset fortasse dubitandum, an adires hereditatem etiam viro gravem. 2 Cum vero ego ductus affinitatis officio, dimissis omnibus qui non dico molestiores sed diligentiores erant, creditor solus exstiterim, cumque vivente eo nubenti tibi in dotem centum milia contulerim, praeter eam summam quam pater tuus quasi de meo dixit - erat enim solvenda de meo -, magnum habes facilitatis meae pignus, cuius fiducia debes famam defuncti pudoremque suscipere. Ad quod te ne verbis magis quam rebus horter, quidquid mihi pater tuus debuit, acceptum tibi fieri iubebo.
1 If your father had owed to several persons, or to any one else rather than to me, there might perhaps have been room to doubt whether you should enter upon the inheritance, a burden even for a man. 2 But since I, led by the duty of affinity, having dismissed all those who—I do not say were more troublesome, but rather more diligent—have stood forth as the sole creditor; and since, while he was alive, when you were marrying, I contributed one hundred thousand into your dowry, besides that sum which your father said was, as it were, from my own—for it was to be discharged from my own—you have a great pledge of my facilitas, in confidence of which you ought to take up the good name of the deceased and his honor. And that I may encourage you to this not more by words than by deeds, I will order whatever your father owed me to be entered as received on your account.
3 Nor is there any reason for you to fear lest that donation be burdensome to me. Indeed, altogether our faculties are modest, our dignity is costly, our revenues, on account of the condition of the little fields, I know not whether smaller or more uncertain; but what fails from revenue is made up by frugality, from which, as from a fountain, our liberality flows down. 4 Which, however, must be so tempered that it not dry up through excessive profusion; yet tempered in others, whereas in your case the account will easily hold good, even if it has exceeded the measure.
1 Actionem et a te frequenter efflagitatam, et a me saepe promissam, exhibui tibi, nondum tamen totam; adhuc enim pars eius perpolitur. 2 Interim quae absolutiora mihi videbantur, non fuit alienum iudicio tuo tradi. His tu rogo intentionem scribentis accommodes.
1 The pleading, both frequently demanded by you and often promised by me, I have exhibited to you, not yet, however, in its entirety; for a part of it is still being thoroughly polished. 2 Meanwhile, those portions which seemed to me more complete, it was not unfitting to be handed over to your judgment. To these, I ask, you accommodate the writer’s intention.
For up to now I have had nothing in hand to which I ought to render greater solicitude. 3 For in the other actions only our diligence and our faith will be subjected to the estimation of men; in this, even piety will be subjected. Thence also the book has grown, while we rejoice to adorn and to amplify our fatherland, and at the same time we serve both its defense and its glory.
4 You, however, resect these very things as far as reason shall have required. For as often as I look back to the fastidiousness of readers and to their delights, I understand that commendation for us must be sought even from the very mediocrity of the book. 5 Yet I, the same who exact this austerity from you, am compelled to request what is diverse: that in most cases you relax your brow.
For there are certain things to be granted to the ears of adolescents, especially if the material does not gainsay; for the descriptions of places, which in this book will be more frequent, it is permitted to pursue not only historically but almost poetically. 6 Yet if anyone should arise who thinks that we have done things more gaily than the severity of the oration demands, this person’s — so to speak — grimness the remaining parts of the action will have to appease. 7 We have certainly striven to hold however diverse kinds of readers through more species of speaking; and just as we fear lest some part may not be approved by certain persons according to each one’s nature, so we seem able to be confident that variety itself will commend the whole to all.
8 For even in the rationale of banquets, although we as individuals refrain from several foods, yet we all are accustomed to praise the whole dinner, nor do the things which our stomach refuses take away the grace from those by which it is captivated. 9 And I wish these things to be received thus, not as though I should believe that I have attained, but as though I have labored to attain, perhaps not in vain, provided only that you apply your care for the meantime to these, soon to those which follow. 10 You will say that you cannot do that with sufficient diligence unless first you have come to know the whole action: I confess.
For the present, however, even these things will become more familiar to you, and certain of them will be such that they can be emended piece by piece. 11 For indeed, if you were to inspect a head torn from a statue or some limb, you could not, to be sure, from that alone apprehend the congruence and equality, yet you could judge whether that very piece were elegant enough; 12 nor for any other cause are the beginnings of a book circulated, than because some part is thought to be perfect even without the others.
1 Longum est altius repetere nec refert, quemadmodum acciderit, ut homo minime familiaris cenarem apud quendam, ut sibi videbatur, lautum et diligentem, ut mihi, sordidum simul et sumptuosum. 2 Nam sibi et paucis opima quaedam, ceteris vilia et minuta ponebat. Vinum etiam parvolis lagunculis in tria genera discripserat, non ut potestas eligendi, sed ne ius esset recusandi, aliud sibi et nobis, aliud minoribus amicis - nam gradatim amicos habet -, aliud suis nostrisque libertis.
1 It would be long to go further back, nor does it matter how it happened that I, with a man hardly familiar, dined at the house of a certain person who, as it seemed to himself, was lavish and diligent, but, as it seemed to me, at once sordid and sumptuous. 2 For he was setting before himself and a few some opulent dishes, for the rest cheap and minute. He had even parceled out the wine in very small little flagons into three kinds, not that there was the power of choosing, but lest there be the right of refusing: one kind for himself and us, another for his lesser friends — for he has friends by grades — another for his and our freedmen.
3 The one who was reclining nearest to me noticed, and asked whether I approved. I said no. ‘What custom, then,’ he said, ‘do you follow?’ ‘I set the same for all; for I invite to dinner, not for a rating, and I make equal in all respects those whom I have made equal by table and couch.’ 4 ‘Even freedmen?’ ‘Even; for at that time I consider them fellow-diners, not freedmen.’ And he: ‘That costs you dearly.’ ‘Not at all.’ ‘How can that be?’ ‘Because, of course, my freedmen do not drink the same as I do, but I the same as my freedmen.’ 5 And, by Hercules, if you restrain your gullet, it is not burdensome to share with several what you yourself use.
6 Quorsus haec? ne tibi, optimae indolis iuveni, quorundam in mensa luxuria specie frugalitatis imponat. Convenit autem amori in te meo, quotiens tale aliquid inciderit, sub exemplo praemonere, quid debeas fugere.
6 To what purpose are these things? Lest the luxury of certain people at table, under the appearance of frugality, impose upon you, a youth of the best natural disposition. Moreover, it is fitting to my love for you, whenever something of this sort shall occur, to forewarn you by way of example what you ought to flee.
1 Here a senatu Vesticio Spurinnae principe auctore triumphalis statua decreta est, non ita ut multis, qui numquam in acie steterunt, numquam castra viderunt, numquam denique tubarum sonum nisi in spectaculis audierunt, verum ut illis, qui decus istud sudore et sanguine et factis assequebantur. 2 Nam Spurinna Bructerum regem vi et armis induxit in regnum, ostentatoque bello ferocissimam gentem, quod est pulcherrimum victoriae genus, terrore perdomuit. 3 Et hoc quidem virtutis praemium, illud solacium doloris accepit, quod filio eius Cottio, quem amisit absens, habitus est honor statuae.
1 Here by the senate, with Vesticius as proposer, a leading man, a triumphal statue was decreed for Spurinna, not as to the many who never stood in the battle-line, never saw a camp, never, in fine, heard the sound of the trumpets except at spectacles, but as to those who attained that honor by sweat and blood and deeds. 2 For Spurinna installed the king of the Bructeri into his kingdom by force and arms, and, war merely displayed, he subdued that most ferocious nation by terror—which is the most beautiful kind of victory. 3 And this indeed he received as a reward of valor; that other as a solace of grief, that to his son Cottius, whom he lost in his absence, the honor of a statue was bestowed.
That is rare in a youth; but the father also deserved this too, whose very grave wound had to be treated with some great fomentation. 4 Moreover, Cottius himself had given so bright a specimen of innate disposition, that his life, brief and narrow, ought to have been prolonged by this as it were immortality. For there was in him such sanctity, gravity, and authority too, that he could challenge those elders in virtue, to whom he has now been equaled in honor.
5 By this very honor, so far as I interpret, provision has been made not only for the memory of the deceased and the father’s grief, but also for an example. Let such great rewards, provided only they be worthy, whet the youth—and the adolescents too—to good arts; let them whet leading men to the undertaking of children, and to find from the survivors joys, and from the lost such glorious solaces. 6 For these reasons I rejoice publicly at the statue of Cottius, nor less privately.
I loved a most consummate young man, as ardently as I now impatiently long for him. It will therefore be exceedingly welcome to me to behold this effigy of him again and again, again and again to look back at it, to stand beneath this, to pass by this. 7 For indeed, if the images of the deceased placed at home lighten our grief, how much more these, by which in a most celebrated place not only their aspect and visage, but honor also and glory are brought back!
1 Anxium me et inquietum habet petitio Sexti Eruci mei. Afficior cura et, quam pro me sollicitudinem non adii, quasi pro me altero patior; et alioqui meus pudor, mea existimatio, mea dignitas in discrimen adducitur. 2 Ego Sexto latum clavum a Caesare nostro, ego quaesturam impetravi; meo suffragio pervenit ad ius tribunatus petendi, quem nisi obtinet in senatu, vereor ne decepisse Caesarem videar.
1 The petition/candidacy of my Sextus Erucius keeps me anxious and restless. I am affected with care, and the solicitude which I did not undergo on my own behalf I suffer as though for a second self; and, moreover, my modesty/honor, my estimation, my dignity are brought into jeopardy. 2 It was I who obtained for Sextus from our Caesar the broad stripe, I who impetrated the quaestorship; by my suffrage he has come to the right of seeking the tribunate, which unless he obtains in the senate, I fear I may seem to have deceived Caesar.
2 Accordingly, I must strive that all may judge him such as the princeps believed him to be on my word. Even if this cause did not incite my zeal, I would nevertheless wish the young man—most upright, most grave, most erudite, in fine most worthy of every praise—to be helped, and indeed together with his whole household. 4 For his father is Erucius Clarus, a man virtuous, old-fashioned, eloquent, and exercised in pleading causes, which he defends with the highest good faith, with equal constancy, and with no less modesty.
He has as an uncle Gaius Septicius, than whom I know nothing more truthful, nothing more simple, nothing more candid, nothing more faithful. 5 All love me in rivalry and yet equally; to all I can now, in one person, return gratitude. And so I take friends by the hand, I supplicate, I canvass, I go around houses and stations, and, to whatever extent I may prevail either by authority or by favor, I try by prayers; and I beseech you to think it worthwhile to undertake some part of my burden.
1 Hominem te patientem vel potius durum ac paene crudelem, qui tam insignes libros tam diu teneas! 2 Quousque et tibi et nobis invidebis, tibi maxima laude, nobis voluptate? Sine per ora nominum ferantur isdemque quibus lingua Romana spatiis pervagentur.
1 I count you a patient man—or rather hard and almost cruel—for keeping such distinguished books so long! 2 How long will you begrudge both yourself and us—yourself the greatest praise, us the pleasure? Allow them to be carried from mouth to mouth by name, and to roam through the same spaces as the Roman tongue.
Great and already long is the expectation, which you ought not still to frustrate and defer. 3 Some of your verses have leaked out, and, you unwilling, have broken open their own locks. Unless you draw these back into the corpus, someday, as vagabonds, they will find someone to whom they will be said to belong.
4 Have before your eyes mortality, from which you can secure yourself by this one monument; for the other things, fragile and caducous, die and cease no less than men themselves. 5 You will say, as you are wont: 'Let my friends see to it.' I indeed wish for you friends so faithful, so erudite, so laborious, that they both can and will undertake so much care and intention; but consider lest it be too little provident to hope from others what you do not yourself provide for yourself. 6 And as to the edition, indeed, meanwhile as you wish: give a reading at least, so that it may be the more pleasing to let it out, and that at length you may grasp the joy which I have long since not rashly presumed on your behalf.
7 For I imagine what a concourse, what admiration for you, what clamor, and that even silence, will await you; by which silence I, when I speak or recite, am delighted no less than by clamor, provided only that the silence be sharp and intent, and eager to hear further. 8 Of this fruit, so great and so ready, cease to defraud your studies by that endless hesitation; which, when it exceeds measure, it is to be feared lest it take the name of inertia and sloth, or even of timidity. Farewell.
1 Solet esse gaudio tibi, si quid acti est in senatu dignum ordine illo. Quamvis enim quietis amore secesseris, insidet tamen animo tuo maiestatis publicae cura. Accipe ergo quod per hos dies actum est, personae claritate famosum, severitate exempli salubre, rei magnitudine aeternum.
1 It is wont to be a joy to you, if anything has been done in the senate worthy of that order. For although you have withdrawn for love of quiet, yet the care of the public majesty sits in your mind. Receive then what has been done during these days—famous through the celebrity of the person, salutary by the severity of the example, eternal by the magnitude of the affair.
2 Marius Priscus, the Africans accusing him, over whom he had presided as proconsul, with his defense omitted, requested judges. I and Cornelius Tacitus, ordered to be present to the provincials, considered it to accord with our fidelity to make it known to the senate that Priscus had exceeded, in monstrosity and savagery, the charges for which judges could be given, since he had received moneys for condemning the innocent, for even putting them to death. 3 Fronto Catius replied and begged that nothing be inquired beyond the law of extortions (repetundae), and this man, most skilled at moving tears, filled all the sails of his action with a kind of, as it were, wind of compassion.
4 Great contention, great clamors on both sides, some saying the senate’s inquiry was closed by law, others that it was free and unfettered, and that punishment should be exacted in proportion to whatever the defendant had committed. 5 Finally the consul-designate Julius Ferox, a man upright and sanctus, judged that judges should meanwhile be assigned to Marius, but that those should be summoned who were said to have sold the punishments of the innocent. 6 This opinion not only prevailed, but after such great dissensions was the only one generally frequent; and it was noted from experience that favor and mercy have sharp and vehement first impulses, but gradually, by counsel and reason, as if quenched, they settle down.
7 Whence it comes about that what many, with mixed clamor, uphold, no one, the others being silent, wishes to say; for, when you are separated from the crowd, the contemplation of the things which are covered by the crowd lies open. 8 Those who had been ordered to be present came, Vitellius Honoratus and Flavius Marcianus; of these, Honoratus was accused of having bought, for 300,000, the exile of a Roman eques and, for seven of his friends, the ultimate penalty; Marcianus was accused of having bought, for 700,000, the multiple punishments of one Roman eques; for he had been beaten with cudgels, condemned to the mines, strangled in prison. 9 But a timely death removed Honoratus from the senate’s inquest; Marcianus was brought in with Priscus absent.
Therefore Tuccius Cerialis, a consular, by senatorial right demanded that Priscus be informed, either because he thought he would be more pitiable or more odious if he had been present, or — which I most believe — because it was most equitable that the common crime be defended by both, and, if it could not be washed away, be punished in both.
10 Dilata res est in proximum senatum, cuius ipse conspectus augustissimus fuit. Princeps praesidebat - erat enim consul -, ad hoc Ianuarius mensis cum cetera tum praecipue senatorum frequentia celeberrimus; praeterea causae amplitudo auctaque dilatione exspectatio et fama, insitumque mortalibus studium magna et inusitata noscendi, omnes undique exciverat. 11 Imaginare quae sollicitudo nobis, qui metus, quibus super tanta re in illo coetu praesente Caesare dicendum erat.
10 The matter was deferred to the next meeting of the senate, the very spectacle of which was most august. The Princeps was presiding - for he was consul -, and in addition the month of January was, as at other times yet especially in the multitude of senators, most thronged; moreover, the magnitude of the case and the expectation and report increased by the postponement, and the zeal implanted in mortals for coming to know great and unusual things, had called everyone forth from all quarters. 11 Imagine what anxiety for us, what fears, upon whom it was incumbent to speak about so great a matter in that assembly with Caesar present.
Indeed in the senate I have pleaded not once, nay rather nowhere am I wont to be heard more kindly; yet then, everything, being new, moved me with a new fear. 12 Besides those things which I said above, the difficulty of the case kept presenting itself: he now stood as a consular, now as a septemvir of the Epulones, now as neither. 13 It was therefore exceedingly burdensome to accuse a condemned man, whom, even as the atrocity of the charge was pressing, so a pity as of a condemnation already accomplished was protecting.
14 However, having somehow gathered my mind and cogitation, I began to speak with an assent of the audience no less than my own solicitude. I spoke for almost five hours; for to the 12 clepsydras, which I had received as most spacious, 4 were added. So much so that those very things which had seemed hard and adverse to one about to speak were favorable to one speaking.
15 Caesar indeed showed me so great zeal, so great even care — for it is too much to say anxiety — that he repeatedly warned my freedman, who was standing behind me, that I should look to my voice and my side, since he thought me to be straining more vehemently than my slenderness could endure. Claudius Marcellinus replied to me on behalf of Marcianus. 16 Then the senate was dismissed and called back for the next day; for by now the action could not be begun, except that it would be broken by the intervention of night.
17 Postero die dixit pro Mario Salvius Liberalis, vir subtilis dispositus acer disertus; in illa vero causa omnes artes suas protulit. Respondit Cornelius Tacitus eloquentissime et, quod eximium orationi eius inest, σεμνῶς. 18 Dixit pro Mario rursus Fronto Catius insigniter, utque iam locus ille poscebat, plus in precibus temporis quam in defensione consumpsit. Huius actionem vespera inclusit, non tamen sic ut abrumperet.
17 On the next day Salvius Liberalis spoke for Marius, a man subtle, methodical, keen, eloquent; indeed in that case he brought forth all his arts. Cornelius Tacitus replied most eloquently and—what is exceptional in his oration—with august gravity. 18 Fronto Catius again spoke for Marius, remarkably, and, as the occasion now demanded, he consumed more of the time in entreaties than in defense. Evening enclosed his pleading, yet not in such a way as to break it off.
Accordingly, on the third day the proofs were produced. Now this very thing was fine and old-fashioned: that the senate was dissolved by night, summoned for three days, held for three days. 19 Cornutus Tertullus, consul-designate, a distinguished man and most steadfast for truth, proposed that the seven hundred thousand which Marius had received be paid into the treasury, that Marius be interdicted from the city and from Italy, and that for Marcianus, this further: Africa.
At the end of his opinion he added that I and Tacitus, having been enjoined with the advocacy, had performed diligently and bravely, and that he judged the senate to think that we had acted in such a way as to be worthy of the mandated roles. 20 The consuls-designate assented, and all even the consulars up to Pompeius Collega: he judged both that 700,000 be paid into the treasury and that Marcianus be relegated for five years, and that Marius be left to the penalty for extortion which he had already suffered. 21 There were many on each opinion, perhaps even more on this one, whether more unbound or more gentle.
For certain even of those who had seemed to assent to Cornutus were following the man who had delivered his opinion after them. 22 But when a division was being made, those who had stood by the consuls’ chairs began to go to Cornutus’s side. Then those who allowed themselves to be counted with Collega crossed over to the opposite side; Collega was left with a few.
23 Hic finis cognitionis amplissimae. Superest tamen λιτούργιον non leve, Hostilius Firminus legatus Mari Prisci, qui permixtus causae graviter vehementerque vexatus est. Nam et rationibus Marciani, et sermone quem ille habuerat in ordine Lepcitanorum, operam suam Prisco ad turpissimum ministerium commodasse, stipulatusque de Marciano quinquaginta milia denariorum probabatur, ipse praeterea accepisse sestertia decem milia foedissimo quidem titulo, nomine unguentarii, qui titulus a vita hominis compti semper et pumicati non abhorrebat.
23 Here is the end of a most ample inquiry. Yet there remains, however, a not light λιτούργιον, Hostilius Firminus, legate of Marius Priscus, who, being mixed up in the case, was grievously and vehemently harassed. For both by Marcianus’s accounts and by the speech which he had delivered in the order of the Lepcitani, it was proved that he had lent his service to Priscus for a most disgraceful ministry, and that he had stipulated from Marcianus 50,000 denarii; he himself, moreover, had received ten thousand sestertia under a most foul title, under the name of a “perfumer”—which title did not ill accord with the life of a man always groomed and pumiced.
1 Λιτούργιον illud, quod superesse Mari Prisci causae proxime scripseram, nescio an satis, circumcisum tamen et adrasum est. 2 Firminus inductus in senatum respondit crimini noto. Secutae sunt diversae sententiae consulum designatorum.
1 That Leitourgion, which I had most recently written as remaining for the case of Marius Priscus, I do not know whether sufficiently; nevertheless it has been curtailed and shaved down. 2 Firminus, brought into the senate, replied to the well-known charge. There followed diverse opinions of the consuls-designate.
Cornutus Tertullus judged that he should be removed from the order; Acutius Nerva, that in the sortition of a province no account should be had of him. This opinion, as if milder, prevailed, although otherwise it is the harsher and sadder. 3 For what is more wretched than, cut out and exempted from senatorial honors, to be punished by labor and vexation, not by prison?
what is more grievous than, afflicted with such ignominy, not to lie hidden in solitude, but to offer oneself on this most lofty watchtower to be looked at and pointed out? 4 Moreover, what publicly is less either congruent or decorous? a man censured by the senate to sit in the senate, and to be equated with those very men by whom he has been censured; removed from the proconsulship because he had conducted himself disgracefully in a legation, to sit in judgment on proconsuls; and, condemned for sordidness, either to condemn others or to absolve!
6 I have fulfilled the promise and discharged the obligation of the earlier letter, which I gather that you have by now received from the lapse of time; for I gave it to a courier both hurrying and diligent, unless he suffered some impediment on the way. 7 Now it is your part to remunerate, first that one, then this one, with letters as most bountiful as can come back from there. Farewell.
1 Et tu occasiones obligandi me avidissime amplecteris, et ego nemini libentius debeo. 2 Duabus ergo de causis a te potissimum petere constitui, quod impetratum maxime cupio. Regis exercitum amplissimum: hinc tibi beneficiorum larga materia, longum praeterea tempus, quo amicos tuos exornare potuisti.
1 And you most eagerly embrace occasions of putting me under obligation, and I owe more gladly to no one. 2 Therefore for two reasons I have decided to request from you particularly that which I most desire to be obtained. You command a most ample army: hence for you a plentiful material for favors, besides a long time, during which you have been able to adorn your friends.
His father was renowned in the equestrian rank, his stepfather more renowned—nay, another father (for to this very name also he succeeded by pietas)—and his mother among the foremost. He himself was lately flamen of Hispania Citerior—you know what the judgment of that province is, how great its gravity. 5 This man, while we studied together, I loved closely and familiarly; he was my companion-in-quarters in the city, he in retirement; with him I mixed serious matters and jokes.
6 For what man is either a more faithful friend than he, or a more pleasant companion? Marvelous suavity in his speech, marvelous too in his very mouth and countenance. 7 In addition, a lofty, subtle, sweet, facile, erudite genius in conducting causes; indeed he writes letters such that you would believe the Muses themselves to be speaking in Latin.
He is loved by me very greatly, nor yet is he outdone. 8 Indeed I, being a young man, straightway to a young man, as much as I could for my age, contributed most avidly, and recently I obtained from the best princeps the right of three children; which, although he bestowed sparingly and with selection, yet to me he indulged as if he were choosing. 9 I can in no way better safeguard these my benefits than by increasing them, especially since he himself interprets them so gratefully that, while he receives the former, he deserves the latter.
10 You now have of what sort he is, how approved and how dear he is to us, whom I beg you to honor in proportion to your talent and your fortune. First of all, love the man; for though you may grant him as amply as you can, yet you can give nothing greater than your friendship; and that you might the more know him to be capable of this even to the most intimate familiarity, I have briefly expressed to you his pursuits, his character, and, in fine, his whole life. 11 I would prolong my entreaties, were it not both that you are unwilling to be asked at length and that I have done this in this whole epistle; for he asks—and most effectively indeed—who sets forth the reasons for asking.
1 Verum opinaris: distringor centumviralibus causis, quae me exercent magis quam delectant. Sunt enim pleraeque parvae et exiles; raro incidit vel personarum claritate vel negotii magnitudine insignis. 2 Ad hoc pauci cum quibus iuvet dicere; ceteri audaces atque etiam magna ex parte adulescentuli obscuri ad declamandum huc transierunt, tam irreverenter et temere, ut mihi Atilius noster expresse dixisse videatur, sic in foro pueros a centumviralibus causis auspicari, ut ab Homero in scholis.
1 You are right: I am kept busy by centumviral cases, which exercise me more than they delight me. For most are small and meager; rarely does one occur distinguished either by the renown of the persons or the magnitude of the business. 2 Besides, there are few with whom it is a pleasure to speak; the rest, bold and for the most part obscure youngsters, have crossed over hither to declaim so irreverently and rashly that our Atilius seems to me to have said it expressly, that boys in the forum begin from centumviral cases, as from Homer in the schools.
For here too, as there, what is greatest first began to be. 3 But, by Hercules, before my memory — so the elders are wont to say — not even for the most noble youths was there a place unless some consular brought them forward: with such veneration was the most beautiful work cultivated. 4 Now, the barriers of modesty and reverence having been broken, everything lies open to everyone, and they are not introduced but they burst in.
The auditors follow, like actors, hired and bought. A contractor is engaged; in the middle of the basilica sportulae are given as openly as in the triclinium; from court to court they pass for equal pay. 5 Hence now, not inelegantly, they are called Σοφοκλεῖς ἀπὸ τοῦ σοφῶς καὶ καλεῖσθαι, and the same Latin name has been imposed, “Laudiceni”; 6 and yet the foulness, marked in both tongues, grows by the day.
Here two of my nomenclators — indeed they have the age of those who have lately assumed the toga — were being recruited for lauding at three denarii apiece. So much does it cost that you may be most eloquent. At this price benches, however numerous, are filled; at this price a huge ring (corona) is gathered; at this price endless clamors are stirred, when the mesochorus gives the signal.
7 For there is need of a sign among those who do not understand, nor indeed even hear; 8 for most do not listen, nor do any praise more. If ever you pass through the basilica and wish to know how each one speaks, there is no need that you ascend the tribunal, no need that you offer an ear; the divination is easy: know that he speaks the worst who will be lauded the most.
While he was speaking before the centumviral court gravely and slowly - for this was his kind of delivery -, he hears from close at hand an immoderate and unusual clamor. Amazed, he fell silent; when silence was made, he resumed what he had broken off. 11 Again a clamor, again he fell silent, and after the silence he began.
The same a third time. At last he asked who was speaking. It was answered: "Licinus." Then, with the case interrupted, he said, "Centumviri, this artifice has perished." 12 Which otherwise was beginning to perish when it seemed to Afer to have perished, now indeed is almost utterly extinguished and overthrown.
It shames one to report what things are spoken with how broken a pronunciation, and with what tender clamors they are received. 13 Only applause, or rather only the cymbals and tympana are lacking to those canticles: ululations indeed - for by no other word can that praise, disgraceful even to theatres, be expressed - are present in abundance. 14 Yet for the present both the utility of our friends and the reckoning of our age delay and hold us back; for we fear lest perhaps we may seem not to have left these indignities, but to have fled the labor.
1 Tu quidem pro cetera tua diligentia admones me codicillos Aciliani, qui me ex parte instituit heredem, pro non scriptis habendos, quia non sint confirmati testamento; 2 quod ius ne mihi quidem ignotum est, cum sit iis etiam notum, qui nihil aliud sciunt. Sed ego propriam quandam legem mihi dixi, ut defunctorum voluntates, etiamsi iure deficerentur, quasi perfectas tuerer. Constat autem codicillos istos Aciliani manu scriptos.
1 You indeed, consistent with your other diligence, admonish me that the codicils of Acilianus, which instituted me heir in part, are to be held as not written, because they are not confirmed by a testament; 2 which law is not unknown even to me, since it is known even to those who know nothing else. But I laid down for myself a certain private law, that I would defend the wishes of the deceased, even if they should fail in law, as though perfected. Moreover, it is established that those codicils were written by the hand of Acilianus.
3 Although therefore they are not confirmed by a testament, by me nevertheless they will be observed as if confirmed, especially since there is no place for an informer. 4 For if there were reason to fear lest what I had given the people would seize, I ought perhaps to be more delaying and more cautious; but since it is permitted for an heir to donate what has remained in the inheritance, there is nothing to hinder that law of mine, to which the public laws are not opposed. Farewell.
1 Miraris cur me Laurentinum vel - si ita mavis -, Laurens meum tanto opere delectet; desines mirari, cum cognoveris gratiam villae, opportunitatem loci, litoris spatium. 2 Decem septem milibus passuum ab urbe secessit, ut peractis quae agenda fuerint salvo iam et composito die possis ibi manere. Aditur non una via; nam et Laurentina et Ostiensis eodem ferunt, sed Laurentina a quarto decimo lapide, Ostiensis ab undecimo relinquenda est.
1 You wonder why my Laurentinum—or, if you prefer, my Laurens—pleases me so greatly; you will cease to wonder when you come to know the grace of the villa, the opportuneness of the location, the stretch of the shore. 2 It lies 17 miles from the city, so that, once the things that had to be done have been completed, with the day now safe and composed, you can stay there. It is approached not by a single road; for both the Laurentine and the Ostian lead to the same place, but the Laurentine must be left at the 14th milestone, the Ostian at the 11th.
On both sides the way is in part sandy, for the yoked somewhat heavier and longer, for a horse short and soft. 3 Varied is the aspect here and there; for now the road is narrowed by woods meeting it, now it is diffused and lies open in very broad meadows; many flocks of sheep, many herds there of horses and oxen, which, driven down from the mountains in winter, grow sleek with the grasses and the vernal warmth. The villa is capacious for uses, not costly in upkeep.
4 In its front part there is an atrium frugal, yet not sordid; then porticoes curved around in the likeness of the letter D, by which a small but festive court is enclosed. An excellent refuge here against tempests; for they are fortified by window-glass and, much more, by straight overhanging eaves. 5 Opposite the middle is a cheerful cavaedium, then a triclinium quite handsome, which runs out onto the shore, and, whenever the sea has been driven by the Africus, it is lightly lapped by waves now broken and at their very last.
On every side it has doors or windows no smaller than the doors, and thus from the flanks and from the front it looks out upon, as it were, three seas; at the back it looks toward the inner court, a portico, the yard, a portico again, then the atrium, the woods, and far-off mountains. 6 On this one’s left, a little further recessed, there is a spacious bedchamber, then another smaller one, of which one window admits the east, the other holds back the west; and from this one the sea lying below is viewed, more distant indeed but safer. 7 By the projection of this bedchamber and of that triclinium a corner is enclosed, which contains and kindles the purest sun.
This is my wintering-place, this also the gymnasium of my household; there all winds are silent, except those which bring in cloudiness, and they steal away the serene sky before the place can be used. 8 To the corner is annexed a bedroom curved in an apse, which with all its windows follows the sun’s ambit. In its wall, in the semblance of a library, a cabinet is set in, which holds not books to be read but to be read and reread.
9 A dormitory wing adjoins, with a passage lying between, which, being suspended and tubulated, disperses and supplies the captured heat with a healthful tempering hither and thither. The remaining part of this side is held for the uses of the slaves and freedmen, most of the rooms so clean that they can receive guests. 10 On the other side there is a most polished bedroom; then either a large bedroom or a modest dining-room, which shines with very abundant sun, very abundant sea; after this, a bedroom with a procoeton, summery by its elevation, wintery by its protections; for it is withdrawn from all winds.
To this cubiculum another and a procoeton are joined by a common wall. 11 Thence a frigidarium cell of the bath, spacious and open, in whose opposing walls two plunge-baths curve as if projected forth, amply capacious if you consider the sea close at hand. Adjoining is the anointing-room, the hypocaust, adjoining is the bath’s propnigeon; soon two chambers more elegant than costly; a marvelous warm piscina is connected, from which, while swimming, they look out upon the sea, 12 and not far off a sphaeristerium which meets the hottest sun when the day is already inclining.
Here a tower is raised, beneath which there are two suites, and just as many within it itself; besides, a dining-room which commands the broadest sea, the longest shore, and the most delightful villas. 13 There is also another tower; in this a bedchamber, in which the sun both rises and is set; behind it a broad apotheca and a horreum; beneath this a triclinium, which suffers from the troubled sea nothing except its crashing and sound, and these already languid and dying away; it looks out upon the garden and the gestation by which the garden is enclosed. 14 The gestation is bordered with box-tree or, where box fails, with sea-dew (rosemary); for the box, in that part where it is sheltered by roofs, is abundantly green; under open sky and open wind, and although the sea’s spray is far off, it dries out.
15 Adjacent to the walk with its inner circuit is a tender and shady vineyard, soft and yielding even to bare feet. The garden is clothed by the mulberry and the frequent fig, trees for which that soil is most of all fertile, more malign to the rest. With an aspect not worse than that of the sea, it enjoys Chianti, removed from the sea, and it is girded at the back by two apartments, beneath whose windows lie the vestibule of the villa and another garden, rich and rustic.
16 From here a cryptoporticus extends, almost a public work. On both sides there are windows, more on the side toward the sea, on the garden side single ones but fewer by alternation. These, when the day is serene and motionless, all stand open; when it is troubled by winds from this side or that, they stand open without injury where the winds fall quiet.
17 Before the cryptoporticus a xystus, fragrant with violets. By the repercussion (reflection) of the sun poured in, the cryptoporticus augments the warmth; which, just as it holds the sun, so it inhibits and removes the north wind, and there is as much warmth in front as cold behind; similarly it checks the Africus (southwest wind), and thus it breaks and limits very diverse winds, one on one side, another on the other. This is its pleasantness in winter, greater in summer.
18 For before midday its own shadow tempers the xystus, after midday the part nearest to the gestation and the garden, which, as the day has grown or diminished, falls now shorter now longer this way or that. 19 The cryptoporticus itself, however, is most free from sun precisely when the most burning sun stands upon its roof; in addition, with the windows open it both receives and lets pass the Favonian breezes, and it never grows oppressive with sluggish and lingering air.
20 At the head of the xystus, next the garden’s cryptoporticus, there is a suite, the darling of my affections, in truth a darling: I myself sited it. In this, the heliocaminus looks one way toward the xystus, another toward the sea—both toward the sun; the bedroom, however, by its doors looks toward the cryptoporticus, by its window looks out upon the sea. 21 Opposite the middle wall a zotheca recedes very elegantly, which, with the windowpanes and curtains drawn over or drawn back, is now added to the bedroom, now taken away.
It holds a bed and two chairs; at its feet, the sea, at its back, the villa, at its head, the woods: so many faces of places, with just as many windows, it both distinguishes and mixes. 22 Adjoining is the bedchamber of night and sleep. Not to it do the voices of the servants, nor the murmur of the sea, nor the motions of tempests, nor the light of lightnings reach, and not even the day does it sense, unless the windows are opened.
So deep and hidden a seclusion is achieved by that plan, that the intervening andron separates the wall of the bedroom and of the garden, and thus consumes every sound by the emptiness in the middle. 23 A very small hypocaust is attached to the bedroom, which, by a narrow window, as the plan requires, either releases or retains the heat set beneath. From there the procoeton and the bedroom stretch out into the sun, which, once received as it is rising, it keeps beyond midday—oblique indeed, yet still.
24 When I withdraw into this apartment, I seem to be away even from my own villa, and I take great pleasure in it especially at the Saturnalia, when the remaining part of the house resounds with the license of the days and with festive clamors; for neither do I, by my studies, make a din against my household’s games, nor do they, by their games, against my studies. 25 This convenience, this pleasantness, lacks springing water, but it has wells, or rather fountains; for they are near the surface. And in general the nature of that shore is marvelous: in whatever place you move the soil, moisture meets you, ready at hand, and it is pure and not even slightly corrupted by the nearness of so great a sea.
26 The nearest woods supply wood in abundance; the Ostian colony provides the other provisions. For a frugal man even the village, which a single villa separates, suffices. In it there are three baths for hire, a great convenience, if perchance either a sudden arrival or a shorter stay should dissuade heating the bath at home.
27 The shore is adorned with a most pleasing variety by the roofs of villas, now continuous, now interspersed, which present the face of many cities, whether you make use of the sea or the shore itself; which sometimes a long tranquility softens, more often a frequent and contrary swell hardens. 28 The sea, to be sure, does not abound in precious fishes, yet it yields excellent soles and shrimps. Our villa, however, also provides inland supplies, milk above all; for to that place from the pastures the herds gather, whenever they seek water or shade.
1 Quid a te mihi iucundius potuit iniungi, quam ut praeceptorem fratris tui liberis quaererem? Nam beneficio tuo in scholam redeo, et illam dulcissimam aetatem quasi resumo: sedeo inter iuvenes ut solebam, atque etiam experior quantum apud illos auctoritatis ex studiis habeam. 2 Nam proxime frequenti auditorio inter se coram multis ordinis nostri clare iocabantur; intravi, conticuerunt; quod non referrem, nisi ad illorum magis laudem quam ad meam pertineret, ac nisi sperare te vellem posse fratris tui filios probe discere.
1 What could have been more pleasant to be enjoined upon me by you than that I should seek a preceptor for your brother’s children? For by your kindness I return to the school, and, as it were, I resume that most sweet age: I sit among the youths as I used to, and I even experience how much authority among them I have from my studies. 2 For recently, in a crowded auditorium, men of our order were openly jesting among themselves before many; I entered, they fell silent; which I would not relate, unless it pertained more to their praise than to mine, and unless I wished you to hope that your brother’s sons could learn properly.
3 What remains: when I shall have heard all who profess, I will write what I think about each, and I will bring it about, as far however as a letter can achieve, that you yourself seem to have heard them all. 4 I owe to you, I owe to the memory of your brother this faith, this zeal, especially over so great a matter. For what more concerns yours, than that the children — I would say yours, did you not now love those more — be found worthy of that father, with you as uncle? a care which, even if you had not entrusted it, I would have claimed for myself.
1 Hortaris ut orationem amicis pluribus recitem. Faciam quia hortaris, quamvis vehementer addubitem. 2 Neque enim me praeterit actiones, quae recitantur, impetum omnem caloremque ac prope nomen suum perdere, ut quas soleant commendare simul et accendere iudicum consessus, celebritas advocatorum, exspectatio eventus, fama non unius actoris, diductumque in partes audientium studium, ad hoc dicentis gestus incessus, discursus etiam omnibusque motibus animi consentaneus vigor corporis.
1 You urge me to recite the oration to more friends. I shall do it because you urge me, although I strongly hesitate. 2 For it does not escape me that actions (forensic pleadings) which are recited lose all their impetus and heat and almost their very name, since the things that are wont both to commend and to enkindle them are missing: the bench of judges, the celebrity of advocates, the expectation of the outcome, the renown not of a single actor (pleader), and the zeal of the listeners drawn apart into parties; in addition, the speaker’s gestures, gait, even his running about, and a vigor of body consonant with all the motions of the mind.
3 Whence it happens that those who plead while sitting, although for the greatest part those same things remain to them as to those standing, nevertheless by the fact that they sit they are, as it were, debilitated and depressed. 4 But for reciters the chief aids of delivery, the eyes and hands, are hampered. Hence it is all the less a marvel if the hearers’ attention grows slack, captured by no extrinsic blandishments nor stirred by goads.
5 Added to these is that the oration of which I speak is pugnacious and, as it were, contentious. Moreover it is so arranged by nature, that those things which we have written with labor, we suppose also to be heard with labor. 6 And indeed how very few are so upright a listener, whom not rather these sweet and sonorous things delight than the austere and compressed?
That discord is indeed altogether disgraceful; yet it exists, because it very often happens that the auditors require one thing, the judges another—whereas otherwise the hearer ought especially to be affected by those things by which, if he were likewise a judge, he would be most moved. 7 Yet it may happen that, although amid these difficulties, novelty may play the pander to that book—novelty among our own; for among the Greeks there is something, although from a different quarter, yet not altogether dissimilar. 8 For just as it was their custom to convict by the collation of other laws those laws which they charged as contrary to prior laws, so for us it had to be gathered—both from this very law and from others—that there was contained in the law of extortions what we were demanding; which, by no means bland to the ears of the unskilled, ought to have so much the greater favor among the learned, as it has the less among the unlearned.
9 We, however, if it shall please to give a recitation, will call in every most erudite person. But plainly, for now, examine with yourself whether it ought to be recited, and set down all the counters which I have moved on either side, and choose that in which reason has prevailed. For from you reason will be demanded; obedience will excuse us.
First, the impudence of the man, who came to a sick woman, of whose husband he had been most inimical, and to herself most odious! 3 Granted, if he only came; but he even sat right next to the bed, asked on what day, at what hour she had been born. When he heard, he composes his countenance, fixes his eyes, moves his lips, agitates his fingers, computes.
Nothing. How long he kept the wretched woman suspended in expectation: 'you have,' he says, 'a climacteric time, but you will come through.' 4 So that it may be more clear to you, I will consult a haruspex, whom I have frequently put to the test.' 5 No delay: he performs a sacrifice, and affirms that the entrails concur with the signification of the stars.
She, credulous in peril, asks for the codicils, and writes a legacy to Regulus. Soon she grows worse; dying, she cries out that he is a worthless man, perfidious and even more than perjured, who had forsworn himself to her by the safety of his son. 6 Regulus does this no less wickedly than frequently, in that he calls down the wrath of the gods—whom he himself deceives daily—upon the head of the unhappy boy.
7 Velleius Blaesus ille locuples consularis novissima valetudine conflictabatur: cupiebat mutare testamentum. Regulus qui speraret aliquid ex novis tabulis, quia nuper captare eum coeperat, medicos hortari rogare, quoquo modo spiritum homini prorogarent. 8 Postquam signatum est testamentum, mutat personam, vertit allocutionem isdemque medicis: 'Quousque miserum cruciatis?
7 That wealthy consular Velleius Blaesus was afflicted with a terminal illness: he wanted to change his testament. Regulus, who hoped for something from the new tablets, since he had lately begun to court him, urged and begged the physicians to prolong the man’s breath by any means whatsoever. 8 After the testament was sealed, he changes his persona, turns his allocution, and to the same physicians: 'How long will you torture the wretch?
When Regulus had come to sign, he said, 'I ask: bequeath these to me.' 11 Aurelia thought the man was playing, but he pressed in earnest; in short, he forced the woman to open the tablets and to bequeath to him the tunics which she was wearing; he watched her writing, he inspected whether she had written it. And Aurelia indeed lives, yet he forced that as though she were about to die. And this man receives inheritances, this man legacies, as if he merited them.
12 Ἀλλὰ τί διατείνομαι in ea civitate, in qua iam pridem non minora praemia, immo maiora nequitia et improbitas quam pudor et virtus habent? 13 Aspice Regulum, qui ex paupere et tenui ad tantas opes per flagitia processit, ut ipse mihi dixerit, cum consuleret quam cito sestertium sescentiens impleturus esset, invenisse se exta duplicia, quibus portendi miliens et ducentiens habiturum. 14 Et habebit, si modo ut coepit, aliena testamenta, quod est improbissimum genus falsi, ipsis quorum sunt illa dictaverit.
12 But why do I strain myself in that city, in which long since worthlessness and depravity have had no smaller prizes—nay, greater—than modesty and virtue? 13 Behold Regulus, who from poverty and meagerness advanced to such riches through flagitious acts, that he himself told me, when he was consulting how quickly he would make up 60,000,000 sesterces, that he had found double entrails, by which it was portended that he would have 120,000,000. 14 And he will have it, if only, as he has begun, he dictates others’ testaments—the most unscrupulous kind of forgery—to the very persons whose they are.