Pliny the Younger•EPISTVLARVM LIBRI DECEM
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1 Saepe te monui, ut libros quos vel pro te vel in Plantam, immo et pro te et in illum — ita enim materia cogebat -, composuisti quam maturissime emitteres; quod nunc praecipue morte eius audita et hortor et moneo. 2 Quamvis enim legeris multis legendosque dederis, nolo tamen quemquam opinari defuncto demum incohatos, quos incolumi eo peregisti. Salva sit tibi constantiae fama.
1 I have often warned you to issue as swiftly as possible the books which you have composed either on your own behalf or against Planta—nay, both on your own behalf and against him — for thus the subject-matter compelled -, which I now especially, with his death reported, both urge and advise. 2 For although you have read them to many and have given them to be read, I nevertheless do not want anyone to suppose that they were only begun after the deceased, which you completed while he was still unscathed. Let the reputation of your constancy be preserved to you.
And moreover, if it be made known to the fair and the unfair alike that the confidence for you to write was not born after the enemy’s death, but that an edition already prepared was preempted by his death, it will be well. 3 And at the same time you will avoid that “it is not pious toward the dead.” For that which was written about the living and was recited with him living is also published upon the deceased as though still living, if it is published immediately. Therefore, if you have anything else in hand, meanwhile defer it; complete this, which to us who read seems long since finished.
1 Facis iucunde quod non solum plurimas epistulas meas verum etiam longissimas flagitas; in quibus parcior fui partim quia tuas occupationes verebar, partim quia ipse multum distringebar plerumque frigidis negotiis quae simul et avocant animum et comminuunt. Praeterea nec materia plura scribendi dabatur. 2 Neque enim eadem nostra condicio quae M. Tulli, ad cuius exemplum nos vocas.
1 You act agreeably in that you solicit not only very many of my epistles but even the very longest; in which I have been more sparing, partly because I feared your occupations, partly because I myself was much distracted, for the most part by frigid business, which at once both call off the mind and wear it down. Besides, material for writing more was not being afforded. 2 For our condition is not the same as that of M. Tullius, to whose example you call us.
For to that man both a most copious ingenium, and—equal to his ingenium—both a variety of matters and a magnitude were supplied most lavishly; 3 you perceive, even with me silent, how narrow boundaries we are enclosed by, unless perhaps we should wish to send you scholastic and, so to speak, umbratical letters. 4 But we deem nothing less apt, when we think of your arms, your camp, and finally the horns, the trumpets, the sweat, the dust, the suns. 5 You have, as I suppose, a just excuse, which nevertheless I am in doubt whether I would wish to be approved by you.
1 Alius aliud: ego beatissimum existimo, qui bonae mansuraeque famae praesumptione perfruitur, certusque posteritatis cum futura gloria vivit. Ac mihi nisi praemium aeternitatis ante oculos, pingue illud altumque otium placeat. 2 Etenim omnes homines arbitror oportere aut immortalitatem suam aut mortalitatem cogitare, et illos quidem contendere eniti, hos quiescere remitti, nec brevem vitam caducis laboribus fatigare, ut video multos misera simul et ingrata imagine industriae ad vilitatem sui pervenire.
1 One man wants one thing; another, another: I consider him most blessed who enjoys in anticipation the good and abiding fame, and, sure of posterity, lives with future glory. And for me, unless the prize of eternity is before my eyes, that rich and deep leisure would be pleasing. 2 For indeed I think all men ought to consider either their immortality or their mortality, and those should strive and exert themselves, these should rest and be relaxed, and not weary a brief life with perishable labors, as I see many, under a wretched and ungrateful image of industry, come to the cheapening of themselves.
1 Vererer ne immodicam orationem putares, quam cum hac epistula accipies, nisi esset generis eius ut saepe incipere saepe desinere videatur. am singulis criminibus singulae velut causae continentur. 2 Poteris ergo, undecumque coeperis ubicumque desieris, quae deinceps sequentur et quasi incipientia legere et quasi cohaerentia, meque in universitate longissimum, brevissimum in partibus iudicare.
1 I should fear lest you think the oration immoderate, which you will receive along with this epistle, were it not of such a kind that it seems often to begin and often to end. For in the individual charges individual, as it were, causes are contained. 2 You will be able, therefore, from wherever you begin and wherever you end, to read what next follows both as if beginning and as if coherent, and to judge me longest in the totality, very brief in the parts.
1 Egregie facis — inquiro enim — et persevera, quod iustitiam tuam provincialibus multa humanitate commendas; cuius praecipua pars est honestissimum quemque complecti, atque ita a minoribus amari, ut simul a principibus diligare. 2 Plerique autem dum verentur, ne gratiae potentium nimium impertire videantur, sinisteritatis atque etiam malignitatis famam consequuntur. 3 A quo vitio tu longe recessisti, scio, sed temperare mihi non possum quominus laudem similis monenti, quod eum modum tenes ut discrimina ordinum dignitatumque custodias; quae si confusa turbata permixta sunt, nihil est ipsa aequalitate inaequalius.
1 You do excellently — for I inquire — and persevere, in that you commend your justice to the provincials with much humanity; the chief part of which is to embrace each most honorable man, and to be so loved by the lesser men that at the same time you are esteemed by the principals. 2 But most people, while they fear lest they seem to impart too much of the favor of the powerful, incur a reputation for sinisterity and even malignity. 3 From which vice you have receded far, I know; yet I cannot temper myself from praising you as one admonishing, because you keep that measure whereby you preserve the distinctions of ranks and dignities; which, if they are confused, disturbed, and intermixed, nothing is more unequal than equality itself.
1 Omne hoc tempus inter pugillares ac libellos iucundissima quiete transmisi. 'Quemadmodum' inquis 'in urbe potuisti?' Circenses erant, quo genere spectaculi ne levissime quidem teneor. Nihil novum nihil varium, nihil quod non semel spectasse sufficiat.
1 I passed all this time among note-tablets and little books, in most pleasant quiet. 'How,' you ask, 'could you do this in the city?' The Circensian games were on, a kind of spectacle by which I am not held even in the slightest. Nothing new, nothing varied, nothing that it does not suffice to have seen once.
2 All the more do I marvel that so many thousands of men so childishly desire again and again to see running horses, men standing on chariots. If, however, they were drawn either by the speed of the horses or by the art of the men, there would be some rationale; as it is, they favor a cloth, they love a cloth, and if in the very course and the midst of the contest this color were transferred there and that one here, their zeal and favor will pass over, and suddenly they will abandon those charioteers, those horses, whom they recognize from afar, whose names they keep shouting. 3 So great favor, so great authority in a single most cheap tunic—I pass over the common crowd, which is cheaper than a tunic—but even among certain serious men; when I recall them sitting so insatiably over a matter empty, cold, incessant, I take some pleasure that by this pleasure I am not taken.
2 On its shore are several of my villas, but two in particular, as much as they delight, so they exercise me. 3 One, set upon rocks in the Baian manner, looks out over the lake; the other, likewise in the Baian manner, touches the lake. And so I am accustomed to call that one a tragedy, this one a comedy—the former because it is, as it were, supported by cothurni (buskins), the latter because, as it were, by socci (low shoes).
Each has its own amenity, and each to the possessor is more delightful by that very diversity. 4 This one makes use of the lake more closely, that one more broadly; this one embraces a single bay with a soft curvature, that one by a very lofty ridge divides two; there a straight riding-track is extended along the shore in a long boundary, here it is gently bent by a very spacious xystus; that one does not feel the waves, this one breaks them; from that one you could look down upon fishermen, from this one you yourself can fish, and cast a hook from the bedchamber and almost even from the little couch, as if from a little boat. These are for me reasons, for each, for building up what is lacking by means of what is superabundant.
1 Unice probo quod Pompei Quintiani morte tam dolenter afficeris, ut amissi caritatem desiderio extendas, non ut plerique qui tantum viventes amant seu potius amare se simulant, ac ne simulant quidem nisi quos florentes vident; nam miserorum non secus ac defunctorum obliviscuntur. Sed tibi perennis fides tantaque in amore constantia, ut finiri nisi tua morte non possit. 2 Et hercule is fuit Quintianus, quem diligi deceat ipsius exemplo.
1 I uniquely approve that you are so dolorously affected by the death of Pompeius Quintianus, that you extend the affection for the one lost by longing, not as most people, who love only those living—or rather pretend that they love—and do not even pretend except those whom they see flourishing; for they forget the wretched no less than the deceased. But in you there is perennial fidelity and such constancy in love that it cannot be ended except by your death. 2 And by Hercules, such a man was Quintianus, whom, by his very example, it befits to be loved.
Although you loved the young man in such a way that you would prefer this to be kept silent rather than silence kept about him, especially by me, by whose preaching/predication you think his life is adorned, his memory prolonged, and that very age at which he was snatched away can be restored. Farewell.
1 Cupio praeceptis tuis parere; sed aprorum tanta penuria est, ut Minervae et Dianae, quas ais pariter colendas, convenire non possit. 2 Itaque Minervae tantum serviendum est, delicate tamen ut in secessu et aestate. In via plane non nulla leviora statimque delenda ea garrulitate qua sermones in vehiculo seruntur extendi.
1 I desire to obey your precepts; but there is such a penury of boars that what you say—that Minerva and Diana are to be cultivated equally—cannot be made to agree. 2 And so Minerva alone must be served, though delicately, as in retreat and in summertime. On the road, plainly, certain lighter pieces, spun out with that garrulity with which conversations are sown in a carriage, are to be erased at once.
To these things I added certain items at the villa, when nothing else was permitted. And so the poems are at rest, which you think are most conveniently perfected among the groves and glades. 3 I revised one or another little oration; although that kind of work is unlovable, unpleasing, and more like the labors of the countryside than its pleasures.
1 Epistulam tuam iucundissimam accepi, eo maxime quod aliquid ad te scribi volebas, quod libris inseri posset. Obveniet materia vel haec ipsa quam monstras, vel potior alia. Sunt enim in hac offendicula non nulla: circumfer oculos et occurrent.
1 I received your most pleasant epistle, chiefly because you wanted something to be written to you, which could be inserted into the books. Material will turn up, either this very thing which you point out, or another, preferable one. For in this there are some little stumbling-blocks: cast your eyes around and they will present themselves.
2 I did not think there were booksellers at Lugdunum, and all the more gladly I learned from your letter that my little books are being sold, with which I am delighted that abroad they keep the favor which they had gathered in the city. For I begin to consider as quite complete that work concerning which, despite so great a diversity of regions, the judgments of men, though separated, agree. Farewell.
Do you not sometimes do what your son—if suddenly he were the father and you the son—would censure with equal severity? Are not all men led by some error? Does not this man indulge himself in that matter, and another man in this?' 2 These things I have written to you, warned by the example of immoderate severity, out of our mutual love, lest at some time you too should treat your son too bitterly and too harshly.
1 Quanto studiosius intentiusque legisti libros quos de Helvidi ultione composui, tanto impensius postulas, ut perscribam tibi quaeque extra libros quaeque circa libros, totum denique ordinem rei cui per aetatem non interfuisti.
1 The more studiously and more intently you have read the books which I composed about the avenging of Helvidius, the more earnestly you demand that I write out for you both the things outside the books and the things around the books, finally the whole order of the affair, in which, owing to your age, you did not take part.
2 Occiso Domitiano statui mecum ac deliberavi, esse magnam pulchramque materiam insectandi nocentes, miseros vindicandi, se proferendi. Porro inter multa scelera multorum nullum atrocius videbatur, quam quod in senatu senator senatori, praetorius consulari, reo iudex manus intulisset. 3 Fuerat alioqui mihi cum Helvidio amicitia, quanta potuerat esse cum eo, qui metu temporum nomen ingens paresque virtutes secessu tegebat; fuerat cum Arria et Fannia, quarum altera Helvidi noverca, altera mater novercae.
2 With Domitian slain I determined with myself and resolved that there was great and fair material for assailing the guilty, for avenging the wretched, for bringing myself forward. Moreover, among the many crimes of many, none seemed more atrocious than that in the senate a senator had laid hands upon a senator, a praetorian upon a consular, a judge upon the defendant. 3 There had, besides, been for me with Helvidius a friendship, as great as it could be with one who, through fear of the times, was covering by seclusion a mighty name and equal virtues; there had been with Arria and Fannia, of whom the one was Helvidius’s stepmother, the other the mother of the stepmother.
But it was not so much private laws that incited me, as public right and the indignity of the deed and the consideration of the example. 4 And indeed in the first days of restored liberty, each man for himself had demanded—at least the lesser—his own enemies, and at the same time had crushed them, with unorganized and turbid clamor. I, having judged both more modestly and more consistently to press the most monstrous defendant not with the common odium of the times, but with his own crime, when that first onrush had by now sufficiently roared itself out and the anger, more languid day by day, had returned to justice, although just then most sad, with my wife recently lost, I send to Anteia — she had been wedded to Helvidius -; I ask that she come, because my grief, still fresh, confined me to the threshold.
5 When she came, I say, 'It is destined for me not to allow your husband to be left unavenged. Announce to Arria and Fannia' — they had returned from exile -, 'consult yourself, consult them, whether you wish to be ascribed to the deed, in which I do not need a companion; but I will not so favor my own glory as to begrudge you the partnership of it.' Anteia conveys the mandates, and they do not delay.
6 Opportune senatus intra diem tertium. Omnia ego semper ad Corellium rettuli, quem providentissimum aetatis nostrae sapientissimumque cognovi: in hoc tamen contentus consilio meo fui veritus ne vetaret; erat enim cunctantior cautiorque. Sed non sustinui inducere in animum, quominus illi eodem die facturum me indicarem, quod an facerem non deliberabam, expertus usu de eo quod destinaveris non esse consulendos quibus consultis obsequi debeas.
6 Conveniently, the senate was to be held within the third day. I always referred everything to Corellius, whom I have known as the most provident and the wisest of our age: yet in this matter I was content with my own counsel, fearing lest he forbid it; for he was more delaying and more cautious. But I could not bring myself not to indicate to him that I would do it on that same day, though I was not deliberating whether I should do it, having learned by experience that, concerning that which you have determined, those whose counsels you ought to obey are not to be consulted.
7 I come into the senate, I petition the right of speaking, I speak for a little while with the greatest assent. When I begin to touch upon the charge, to designate the defendant, yet still without a name, there are protests against me from all sides. One: 'Let us know who it is about whom you report extra ordinem,' another: 'Who is a defendant before the relatio?' another: 'Let us who survive be safe.' 8 I listen unperturbed, unterrified: so much does the honesty of the undertaking prevail, and it makes so much difference, for confidence or for fear, whether men are unwilling at what you do or do not approve.
It would be a long task to recount all the things that were then hurled from this side and that. 9 Lastly the consul: 'Secundus, you shall speak by way of an opinion, if you wish anything.' 'You had permitted,' I say, 'what up to now you have permitted to all.' 10 I sit down; other matters are transacted. Meanwhile one of my friends of consular rank, in a private and carefully considered conversation, rebukes and calls me back, as if I had advanced too boldly and incautiously; he advises me to desist, and even adds: 'You have made yourself notable to future princes.' 'So be it,' I say, 'so long as they are bad.' 11 Hardly had he departed, again another: 'How dare you?'
'You are provoking a man now prefect of the treasury and soon consul, moreover supported by what favor and by what friendships!' He names a certain person, who at that time in the Orient held a very ample army, not without great and dubious rumors. 12 To this I: "ëI have anticipated everything and beforehand carried it through with myself in mind" nor do I refuse, if chance should so bring it, to pay penalties for a most honorable deed, while I avenge a most flagitious one.'
13 Iam censendi tempus. Dicit Domitius Apollinaris consul designatus, dicit Fabricius Veiento, Fabius Postuminus, Bittius Proculus collega Publici Certi, de quo agebatur, uxoris autem meae quam amiseram vitricus, post hos Ammius Flaccus. Omnes Certum nondum a me nominatum ut nominatum defendunt crimenque quasi in medio relictum defensione suscipiunt.
13 Now it is the time for giving opinions. Domitius Apollinaris, consul designate, speaks, Fabricius Veiento speaks, Fabius Postuminus, Bittius Proculus, the colleague of Publicius Certus—about whom the matter was being prosecuted—and moreover the stepfather of my wife whom I had lost; after these, Ammius Flaccus. All of them defend Certus, not yet named by me, as though he had been named, and they undertake the defense of the charge, as it were, left in the open.
14 What moreover they said, it is not necessary to relate: you have it in the books; for I have pursued everything in their very words. 15 On the other side speak Avidius Quietus and Cornutus Tertullus: Quietus, that it is most unjust for the complaints of those who suffer to be excluded, and therefore the right of complaining of Arria and Fannia ought not to be taken away, nor does it matter of what order someone is, but what cause he has; 16 Cornutus, that he was appointed by the consuls as tutor to the daughter of Helvidius at the request of her mother and stepfather; now also he cannot bring himself to desert the parts of his duty, in which, however, both to set a limit to his own grief and to bear the most modest affect of the best women; who are content to admonish the senate of the bloody adulation of Publicius Certus and to ask that, if the punishment of a most manifestly flagitious crime is remitted, at least a mark, as it were censorial, be branded. 17 Then Satrius Rufus, with a middle and ambiguous speech, said, 'I think an injury has been done to Publicius Certus, if he is not acquitted; he has been named by the friends of Arria and Fannia, he has been named by his own friends.'
'Nor ought we to be solicitous; for we, the same who think well of the man, are also going to judge. If he is innocent, as indeed I both hope and prefer and, until something is proven, believe, you will be able to acquit.' 18 These things they said to him, in the order in which each was being called. It comes round to me. I rise, I use the opening which is in the book, I reply to each point.
Strange with what concentration, with what shouts they received everything, they who just now were protesting: so great a reversal followed either the dignity of the case, or the success of the speech, or the advocate’s Constancy. 19 I conclude. Veiento begins to reply; no one allows it; he is jostled and shouted down, indeed to such a degree that he said: 'I beg, Conscript Fathers, do not force me to implore the aid of the tribunes.' And at once the tribune Murena: 'I permit you, most illustrious man Veiento, to speak.' Even then protests are raised.
20 Amid delays the consul, the names having been called and the discession completed, dismisses the senate, and he left Veiento almost still standing and trying to speak. He complained much about this — so he called it — contumely with a Homeric verse: “Old man, now indeed the young fighter-warriors wear you down.” 21 There was hardly anyone in the senate who did not embrace me, kiss me repeatedly, and vie to heap me with praise, because I had brought back into public the long-intermitted custom of consulting, having taken upon myself personal enmities; and finally because I had freed the senate from the odium with which it burned among the other orders, since, severe toward the rest, by a kind of mutual dissimulation it seemed to spare senators alone.
22 Haec acta sunt absente Certo; fuit enim seu tale aliquid suspicatus sive, ut excusabatur, infirmus. Et relationem quidem de eo Caesar ad senatum non remisit; obtinui tamen quod intenderam: 23 nam collega Certi consulatum, successorem Certus accepit, planeque factum est quod dixeram in fine: 'Reddat praemium sub optimo principe, quod a pessimo accepit.' Postea actionem meam utcumque potui recollegi, addidi multa. 24 Accidit fortuitum, sed non tamquam fortuitum, quod editis libris Certus intra paucissimos dies implicitus morbo decessit.
22 These things were done in the absence of Certus; for he had either suspected something of such a kind or, as it was excused, was infirm. And indeed Caesar did not remit a relation about him to the senate; nevertheless I obtained what I had intended: 23 for Certus’s colleague received the consulship, and Certus received a successor, and plainly it was brought to pass what I had said at the end: ‘Let him render under the best prince the reward which he received from the worst.’ Afterwards I recollected my action as best I could, and I added many things. 24 A fortuitous thing befell, yet not as though fortuitous, that, once the books were published, Certus, entangled in illness, departed within very few days.
Nec ipse tibi plaudis, et ego nihil magis ex fide quam de te scribo. Posteris an aliqua cura nostri, nescio; nos certe meremur, ut sit aliqua, non dico ingenio — id enim superbum -, sed studio et labore et reverentia posterorum. Pergamus modo itinere instituto, quod ut paucos in lucem famamque provexit, ita multos e tenebris et silentio protulit.
Nor do you applaud yourself, and I write nothing more in good faith than about you. Whether posterity will have any care of us, I do not know; we surely deserve that there be some, I do not say by genius — for that is arrogant -, but by study and labor and reverence for posterity. Let us only continue on the undertaken path, which, just as it has conveyed a few into the light and to fame, so has brought forth many out of darkness and silence.
1 Refugeram in Tuscos, ut omnia ad arbitrium meum facerem. At hoc ne in Tuscis quidem: tam multis undique rusticorum libellis et tam querulis inquietor, quos aliquanto magis invitus quam meos lego; nam et meos invitus. 2 Retracto enim actiunculas quasdam, quod post intercapedinem temporis et frigidum et acerbum est.
1 I had taken refuge in Tuscany, so that I might do everything at my own discretion. But not even this in Tuscany: I am disturbed by so many petitions of the rustics from every side, and so querulous, which I read with rather more reluctance than my own; for even my own I read reluctantly. 2 For I am taking up again certain little actions (lawsuits)—a thing which, after an interval of time, is both frigid and bitter.
1 Summam te voluptatem percepisse ex isto copiosissimo genere venandi non miror, cum historicorum more scribas numerum iniri non potuisse. Nobis venari nec vacat nec libet: non vacat quia vindemiae in manibus, non libet quia exiguae. 2 Devehimus tamen pro novo musto novos versiculos tibique iucundissime exigenti ut primum videbuntur defervisse mittemus.
1 I do not marvel that you have taken the highest pleasure from that most copious kind of hunting, since, in the manner of historians, you write that the number could not be computed. For us, to hunt neither is there leisure nor does it please: there is not leisure because the vintages are in hand, it does not please because they are meager. 2 Nevertheless we are conveying, in place of new must, new little verses, and to you, most delightful in exacting, as soon as they shall seem to have boiled down, we shall send.
And indeed, how many do you think there are whom the things by which you and I are captivated and led on offend, as being in part inept, in part most irksome! How many, when a reader or a lyrist or a comedian has been introduced, ask for their shoes, or recline with no less tedium than that with which you have endured those — for so you call them — prodigies! 4 Let us therefore grant indulgence to others’ amusements, that we may obtain it for our own. Farewell.
1 Qua intentione, quo studio, qua denique memoria legeris libellos meos, epistula tua ostendit. Ipse igitur exhibes negotium tibi qui elicis et invitas, ut quam plurima communicare tecum velim. 2 Faciam, per partes tamen et quasi digesta, ne istam ipsam memoriam, cui gratias ago, assiduitate et copia turbem oneratamque et quasi oppressam cogam pluribus singula posterioribus priora dimittere.
1 Your epistle shows with what intention, with what zeal, and, finally, with what memory you have read my little books. You therefore set yourself a task—you who draw out and invite me to wish to communicate with you as many things as possible. 2 I shall do so, yet by parts and as if digested, lest I disturb that very memory—to which I give thanks—by frequency and abundance, and, burdened and as it were overwhelmed, compel it to let the single earlier items be dismissed by the more numerous later ones.
Reprehendis quod iusserit, addis etiam melius rectiusque Frontinum, quod vetuerit omnino monumentum sibi fieri, meque ad extremum quid de utroque sentiam consulis. 2 Utrumque dilexi, miratus sum magis quem tu reprehendis, atque ita miratus ut non putarem satis umquam posse laudari, cuius nunc mihi subeunda defensio est. 3 Omnes ego qui magnum aliquid memorandumque fecerunt, non modo venia verum etiam laude dignissimos iudico, si immortalitatem quam meruere sectantur, victurique nominis famam supremis etiam titulis prorogare nituntur.
You find fault because he ordered it; you add also that Frontinus did better and more rightly, in that he altogether forbade a monument to be made for himself; and you finally consult me as to what I think about each. 2 I loved both, I admired more the one whom you censure, and so admired him that I did not think he could ever be sufficiently praised, whose defense now must be undertaken by me. 3 I, for my part, judge all who have done something great and memorable to be worthy not only of pardon but even of praise, if they pursue the immortality which they have merited and strive to prolong, even by their final titles, the fame of a name that will live.
4 Nor do I easily find anyone except Verginius, whose modesty in proclaiming is as great as the glory from the deed. 5 I myself am a witness—loved by him in familiar fashion and approved—once and only once, with me as a hearer, he was carried forward so far as to report this one thing about his own affairs: that Cluvius had at some time said to him thus: ‘You know, Verginius, what trustworthiness is owed to history; therefore, if you read anything in my histories otherwise than you would wish, I ask you to pardon.’ To this he replied: ‘Do you not know, Cluvius, that I did what I did for this very reason, that it might be free for you to write whatever you pleased?’ 6 Come now, let us compare this very Frontinus in this very point, in which he seems to you more sparing and more compressed. He forbade a monument to be built, but with what words?
'The expense of a monument is superfluous; the memory of us will endure, if by our life we have merited it.' Or do you think it more restrictive to give his lasting memory to be read through the whole orb of the lands than, in one place, to mark with two little verses what you have done? 7 Although I do not have the purpose of reproving that man, but of defending this one; and what defense for him could be more just with you than from a comparison with the one whom you have preferred? 8 In my judgment, indeed, neither is to be blamed, each of whom strives toward glory with equal desire, by a different route: the one while he seeks the due titles, the other while he prefers to seem to have contemned them.
1 Tua vero epistula tanto mihi iucundior fuit quanto longior erat, praesertim cum de libellis meis tota loqueretur; quos tibi voluptati esse non miror, cum omnia nostra perinde ac nos ames. 2 Ipse cum maxime vindemias graciles quidem, uberiores tamen quam exspectaveram colligo, si colligere est non numquam decerpere uvam, torculum invisere, gustare de lacu mustum, obrepere urbanis, qui nunc rusticis praesunt meque notariis et lectoribus reliquerunt. Vale.
1 Your letter, in truth, was so much the more pleasant to me as it was longer, especially since it spoke wholly about my little books; which I do not wonder are a delight to you, since you love all that is ours just as you love us. 2 I myself am just now gathering the vintage—slender indeed, yet more abundant than I had expected—if “to gather” is sometimes to pluck a grape, to pay a visit to the wine-press, to taste must from the vat, to slip in upon the urban staff, who now preside over the rustics and have left me to the notaries and the readers. Farewell.
1 Libertus tuus, cui suscensere te dixeras, venit ad me advolutusque pedibus meis tamquam tuis haesit. Flevit multum, multum rogavit, multum etiam tacuit, in summa fecit mihi fidem paenitentiae verae: credo emendatum quia deliquisse se sentit. 2 Irasceris, scio, et irasceris merito, id quoque scio; sed tunc praecipua mansuetudinis laus, cum irae causa iustissima est.
1 Your freedman, with whom you said you were angry, came to me, and, having flung himself at my feet, clung as though to yours. He wept much, begged much, was silent much as well; in sum, he gave me assurance of true penitence: I believe him amended, because he feels that he has committed a delinquency. 2 You are angry, I know, and you are angry deservedly, that too I know; but then is the chief praise of mansuetude, when the cause of anger is most just.
3 You have loved the man, and I hope you will love him; in the meantime it is enough that you allow yourself to be prevailed upon. It will be permitted to be angry again, if he deserves it—having been prevailed upon, you will do this more excusably. Make some allowance for his very youth; make allowance for his tears; make allowance for your own indulgence.
Do not torture him, do not torture yourself as well; for you are tortured when, being so lenient, you grow angry. 4 I fear that I may seem not to entreat but to coerce, if I join my prayers to his; nevertheless I will join them all the more fully and profusely, in proportion as I rebuked him more sharply and more severely, having threatened peremptorily that I would never thereafter ask. This to him, who ought to be frightened; not the same to you; for perhaps I shall ask again, I shall obtain again: only let it be such that it befits me to ask, and you to grant.
1 Magna me sollicitudine affecit Passenni Pauli valetudo, et quidem plurimis iustissimisque de causis. Vir est optimus honestissimus, nostri amantissimus; praeterea in litteris veteres aemulatur exprimit reddit, Propertium in primis, a quo genus ducit, vera suboles eoque simillima illi in quo ille praecipuus. 2 Si elegos eius in manus sumpseris, leges opus tersum molle iucundum, et plane in Properti domo scriptum.
1 Passennus Paulus’s health has affected me with great solicitude, and indeed for very many and most just reasons. He is a most excellent, most honorable man, most loving of me; moreover, in letters he emulates, expresses, and renders the ancients, Propertius above all, from whom he derives his lineage, a true scion and for that reason most similar to him in that in which he is preeminent. 2 If you take his elegies into your hands, you will read a work polished, supple, pleasant, and plainly written in the house of Propertius.
Recently he has deflected to the lyric, in which he so fashions Horace as in those he fashioned that other one: you would think, if kinship avails anything in studies, that he too is a kinsman of this one. Great variety, great mobility: he loves as one who most truly, he grieves as one who most impatiently, he praises as one who most benignly, he plays as one who most wittily; in fine, he perfects all things as though each were a single thing. 3 For this friend, for this genius, he being sick no less in spirit than in body, at last I received him back, at last I received myself.
1 Frequenter agenti mihi evenit, ut centumviri cum diu se intra iudicum auctoritatem gravitatemque tenuissent, omnes repente quasi victi coactique consurgerent laudarentque; 2 frequenter e senatu famam qualem maxime optaveram rettuli: numquam tamen maiorem cepi voluptatem, quam nuper ex sermone Corneli Taciti. Narrabat sedisse secum circensibus proximis equitem Romanum. Hunc post varios eruditosque sermones requisisse: 'Italicus es an provincialis?' Se respondisse: 'Nosti me, et quidem ex studiis.' 3 Ad hoc illum: 'Tacitus es an Plinius?' Exprimere non possum, quam sit iucundum mihi quod nomina nostra quasi litterarum propria, non hominum, litteris redduntur, quod uterque nostrum his etiam e studiis notus, quibus aliter ignotus est.
1 It has frequently happened to me, as I was pleading, that the centumviral judges, after for a long time keeping themselves within the authority and gravity of judges, all at once, as if overcome and compelled, would rise and applaud; 2 I have often brought back from the Senate a reputation such as I had most desired: yet never have I taken greater pleasure than lately from a conversation of Cornelius Tacitus. He was telling that at the most recent circus-games a Roman knight sat with him. This man, after various and learned conversations, asked: 'Are you an Italian or a provincial?' He replied: 'You know me, and indeed from studies.' 3 To this the other: 'Are you Tacitus or Pliny?' I cannot express how delightful it is to me that our names, as if proper to letters and not to men, are attributed to letters, that each of us is known from studies even to those to whom otherwise he is unknown.
4 Accidit aliud ante pauculos dies simile. Recumbebat mecum vir egregius, Fadius Rufinus, super eum municeps ipsius, qui illo die primum venerat in urbem; cui Rufinus demonstrans me: 'Vides hunc?' Multa deinde de studiis nostris; et ille 'Plinius est' inquit. 5 Verum fatebor, capio magnum laboris mei fructum.
4 A similar thing happened a few days earlier. A distinguished man, Fadius Rufinus, was reclining with me, and above him was his own fellow-townsman, who on that day had come into the city for the first time; to whom Rufinus, pointing me out: 'Do you see this man?' Much then about our studies; and he said, 'He is Pliny.' 5 Truly I will confess, I reap a great fruit of my labor.
And if Demosthenes rejoiced with good right, because an Attic old woman recognized him thus: 'this is . . . Demosthenes,' ought I not to rejoice in the celebrity of my name? I for my part both rejoice and declare that I rejoice. 6 For I do not fear lest I seem more vainglorious, since I am bringing forward the judgment of others about me, not my own, especially with you, who neither envy the praises of anyone and favor ours.
Bene fecisti quod libertum aliquando tibi carum reducentibus epistulis meis in domum in animum recepisti. Iuvabit hoc te; me certe iuvat, primum quod te tam tractabilem video, ut in ira regi possis, deinde quod tantum mihi tribuis, ut vel auctoritati meae pareas vel precibus indulgeas. Igitur et laudo et gratias ago; simul in posterum moneo, ut te erroribus tuorum, etsi non fuerit qui deprecetur, placabilem praestes.
You have done well in that, with my letters bringing him back, you received into your house and into your mind the freedman once dear to you. This will profit you; it certainly pleases me, first because I see you so tractable that you can be governed even in anger, then because you ascribe so much to me that you either obey my authority or indulge my prayers. Therefore I both praise you and give thanks; at the same time I admonish you for the future, that you show yourself placable toward the faults of your own, even if there should be no one to intercede.
1 Quereris de turba castrensium negotiorum et, tamquam summo otio perfruare, lusus et ineptias nostras legis amas flagitas, meque ad similia condenda non mediocriter incitas. 2 Incipio enim ex hoc genere studiorum non solum oblectationem verum etiam gloriam petere, post iudicium tuum viri eruditissimi gravissimi ac super ista verissimi. 3 Nunc me rerum actus modice sed tamen distringit; quo finito aliquid earundem Camenarum in istum benignissimum sinum mittam.
1 You complain of the throng of camp-business, and, as though you were enjoying the highest leisure, you read, love, and demand my games and trifles, and you incite me not moderately to compose similar pieces. 2 For I begin from this kind of studies to seek not only delectation but even glory, after your judgment—you, a most learned, most grave man, and, beyond these, most veracious. 3 Now the course of affairs somewhat, yet still, distracts me; when that is finished, I will send something of those same Muses into that most benignant bosom.
1 Dixi de quodam oratore saeculi nostri recto quidem et sano, sed parum grandi et ornato, ut opinor, apte: 'Nihil peccat, nisi quod nihil peccat.' 2 Debet enim orator erigi attolli, interdum etiam effervescere ecferri, ac saepe accedere ad praeceps; nam plerumque altis et excelsis adiacent abrupta. Tutius per plana sed humilius et depressius iter; frequentior currentibus quam reptantibus lapsus, sed his non labentibus nulla, illis non nulla laus etiamsi labantur. 3 Nam ut quasdam artes ita eloquentiam nihil magis quam ancipitia commendant.
1 I said, about a certain orator of our age, indeed upright and sound, but too little grand and ornate, aptly, as I think: 'He errs in nothing, except that he errs in nothing.' 2 For the orator ought to be raised up and lifted, at times even to effervesce, to be carried away, and often to approach the precipice; for most often to high and exalted things steep drop-offs lie adjacent. Safer is the route over level ground, but more low and depressed; a slip is more frequent for runners than for crawlers, but for the latter, because they do not slip, there is no praise; for the former, not no praise even if they slip. 3 For, as with certain arts, so nothing recommends eloquence more than its perils.
You see how those who strive along a rope on high are wont to rouse what great shouts, when they seem at any moment about to fall. 4 For the most marvelous things are those most unlooked-for, most perilous—and, as the Greeks express it more exactly, παράβολα. Therefore the pilot’s virtue is by no means equal when he is carried with a placid sea and when with a turbulent one: then, with no one admiring, unpraised and inglorious he enters port, but when the ropes shriek, the mast is bent, the rudders groan, then he is illustrious and next to the gods of the sea.
5 Cur haec? Quia visus es mihi in scriptis meis adnotasse quaedam ut tumida quae ego sublimia, ut improba quae ego audentia, ut nimia quae ego plena arbitrabar. Plurimum autem refert, reprehendenda adnotes an insignia.
5 Why this? Because you seemed to me to have annotated in my writings certain things as tumid which I thought sublime, as improper which I thought audacious, as excessive which I judged replete. But it makes a very great difference whether you annotate what is reprehensible or what is distinguished.
6 For everyone notices what projects and stands out; but it must be judged with sharp attention whether it is immoderate or grand, lofty or enormous. And, to touch Homer above all: to which side, pray, can this be made to go— “and all around the great heaven trumpeted” . . “and in the mist the spear was inclined,” and that whole “nor does the wave of the sea bellow so greatly”? 7 But there is need of assay and balance, whether these are incredible and empty or magnificent, celestial. Nor do I now think that I have either said, or can say, things like these—not so do I rave—but I wish this to be understood, that the reins of eloquence must be loosened, and that the onrushes of minds are not to be broken off by a most narrow gyre.
But Demosthenes himself, that norm and rule of the orator, does he restrain and compress himself, when he says those most well-known things: “men foul and flatterers and accursed,” and again, “I did not wall the city with stones nor with bricks, I,” and straightway, “not from the sea . . . to set Euboea in front of . . . Attica,” and elsewhere: “I for my part think, men . . . Athenians, by the gods, that that man is drunk with the magnitude of the deeds?” 9 Now what is bolder than that most beautiful and very long excursus: “for it is a disease?” What of these things, shorter than the preceding yet equal in audacity: “then I, with the . . . Pytho emboldened and pouring forth much against you?” Of the same stamp: “but whenever someone, like this man, has become strong from greed and wickedness, the first pretext and the slightest stumble has checked and undone everything.” Like to these: “cut off from all the just things in the city,” and in the same place, “you have betrayed the pity due to these matters, . . . Aristogeiton, or rather you have taken it away altogether. Do not then—toward those for whom you yourself have heaped up harbors and filled with moles—make your mooring.” And he had said: “for this man I see none of these places affording a footing, but all are precipitous—ravines, chasms.” And thereafter: “I fear, lest you seem to some to be training the man who always wishes to be wicked, among the citizens,” and not enough: “for I do not suppose that your ancestors built these courts for you in order that you might calf-breed such fellows within them,” to this: “and if he is a huckster of wickedness and a back-huckster and a trafficker,” and a thousand such things, to pass over those which by Aeschines are called “wonders, not words.”
10 In contrarium incidi: dices hunc quoque ob ista culpari. Sed vide, quanto maior sit, qui reprehenditur, ipso reprehendente et maior ob haec quoque; in aliis enim vis, in his granditas eius elucet. 11 Num autem Aeschines ipse eis, quae in Demosthene carpebat, abstinuit?
10 I have fallen upon the contrary: you will say that this man too is blamed on account of those things. But see how much greater is he who is reprehended than the very reprehender, and greater on account of these things as well; for in other matters his force, in these his grandeur shines forth. 11 And did Aeschines himself refrain from the very things which he was carping at in Demosthenes?
For ought the orator and the law to utter the same thing? but when the law sends forth one voice, and the orator another. Elsewhere: ἔπειτα ἀναφαίνεται περὶ πάντων ἐν τῷ ψηφίσματι Again elsewhere: ἀλλ᾽ ἐγκαθήμενοι καὶ ἐνεδρεύοντες ἐν τῇ ἀκροάσει εἰσελαύνετε αὐτὸν εἰς τοὺς παρανόμους λόγους. 12 He proved this to such a degree that he repeats: ἀλλ᾽ ὥσπερ ἐν ταῖς ἱπποδρομίαις ἐς τὸν τοῦ πράγματος αὐτὸν δρόμον εἰσελαύνετε. Now those more cautiously and more closely: σὺ δὲ ἑλκοποιεῖς . . . ἢ συλλαβόντες ὡς λῃστὴν τῶν πραγμάτων διὰ τῆς πολιτείας πλέοντα; 13 I expect that you will stab certain things from this letter—like that “the helms groan” and “nearest to the gods of the sea”—with the same marks with which you are stabbing those about which I write; for I understand that while I seek pardon for the former points, I have fallen upon those very things which you had annotated. But stab away, provided only that you now at once fix a day, on which we can examine both those and these face to face. For either you will make me timid, or I will make you temerarious.
1 Quanta potestas, quanta dignitas, quanta maiestas, quantum denique numen sit historiae, cum frequenter alias tum proxime sensi. Recitaverat quidam verissimum librum, partemque eius in alium diem reservaverat. 2 Ecce amici cuiusdam orantes obsecrantesque, ne reliqua recitaret.
1 How great the power, how great the dignity, how great the majesty, how great, finally, the numen of history is, I have felt, often at other times and most recently. A certain man had recited a most veracious book, and had reserved a part of it for another day. 2 Behold the friends of a certain person entreating and imploring that he not recite the remainder.
So great is the shame of hearing what they have done, for whom there is none of doing the things they blush to hear. And he indeed fulfilled what was asked — good faith allowed it -; yet the book, like the deed itself, remains, will remain, and will be read always, all the more because not at once. For men are incited to learn things that are deferred.
1 Post longum tempus epistulas tuas, sed tres pariter recepi, omnes elegantissimas amantissimas, et quales a te venire praesertim desideratas oportebat. Quarum una iniungis mihi iucundissimum ministerium, ut ad Plotinam sanctissimam feminam litterae tuae perferantur: perferentur. 2 Eadem commendas Popilium Artemisium: statim praestiti quod petebat.
1 After a long time I received your epistles, but three at once, all most elegant, most affectionate, and such as it was fitting should come from you, especially, as they were longed-for. Of which, in one you enjoin upon me a most pleasant ministry, that your letters be conveyed to Plotina, a most sacred woman: they will be conveyed. 2 In that same one you commend Popilius Artemisius: I straightway furnished what he was asking.
You indicate also that you have collected modest vintages: this complaint is common to me with you, although in a very different region of the world. 3 In another letter you announce that you now dictate many things, now write them, whereby we are made present to you. I give thanks; I would do so more if you had been willing that I read those very things which you write or dictate.
And it was fair that, as you get to know my writings, so I get to know yours, even if they pertained to another rather than to me. 4 You promise at the end, when you will have heard something more certain about the ordering of our life, that you will be a fugitive from household affairs and will straightway fly out to us, we who are already fastening fetters for you, which you will in no way be able to break. 5 The third letter contained that the oration on behalf of Clarius had been returned to you, and that it seemed more copious than it had been when I was speaking and you were listening.
1 Ut satius unum aliquid insigniter facere quam plura mediocriter, ita plurima mediocriter, si non possis unum aliquid insigniter. Quod intuens ego variis me studiorum generibus nulli satis confisus experior. 2 Proinde, cum hoc vel illud leges, ita singulis veniam ut non singulis dabis.
1 Just as it is preferable to do some one thing signally rather than many things moderately, so too to do very many moderately, if you cannot do one thing signally. Keeping this in view I try myself in various kinds of studies, sufficiently confident in none. 2 Accordingly, when you read this or that, grant indulgence to the individual pieces, though not to the individual details.
Or is it that in the other arts the excuse lies in the number, while for letters the law is sterner, in which the effect is more difficult? But why do I talk of pardon, as if ungrateful? For if you receive these with a facility next to that with which you received the former, praise rather is to be hoped for than pardon to be besought.
1 Laudas mihi et frequenter praesens et nunc per epistulas Nonium tuum, quod sit liberalis in quosdam: et ipse laudo, si tamen non in hos solos. Volo enim eum, qui sit vere liberalis, tribuere patriae propinquis, affinibus amicis, sed amicis dico pauperibus, non ut isti qui iis potissimum donant, qui donare maxime possunt. 2 Hos ego viscatis hamatisque muneribus non sua promere puto sed aliena corripere.
1 You praise to me, both frequently in person and now by epistles, your Nonius, because he is liberal toward certain people: and I too praise him, if however not toward these alone. For I want him who is truly liberal to bestow upon his fatherland, his kinsmen, his affines (in-laws), his friends—but by friends I mean the poor—not like those who chiefly donate to those who can most donate. 2 These men, I think, with bird-limed and barbed gifts do not bring out their own, but snatch what is another’s.
There are of similar disposition those who, what they give to this man, they take away from that one, and they seek the fame of liberality by avarice. 3 First, however, is to be content with one’s own; then, to encircle, within a certain orbit of sociality, those whom you especially know to be in need, sustaining and fostering them. If he does all these things, he is everywhere to be praised; if only one thing, less indeed, yet to be praised nevertheless: 4 so rare is even the exemplar of imperfect liberality.
1 Postquam a te recessi, non minus tecum, quam cum ad te fui. Legi enim librum tuum identidem repetens ea maxime — non enim mentiar -, quae de me scripsisti, in quibus quidem percopiosus fuisti. Quam multa, quam varia, quam non eadem de eodem nec tamen diversa dixisti!
1 After I departed from you, I was no less with you than when I was with you. For I read your book, repeating it again and again, especially those things — for I will not lie -, which you wrote about me, in which indeed you were very copious. How many things, how various, how not the same about the same and yet not diverse you said!
2 Shall I equally render praise and give thanks? I can do neither sufficiently, and, if I could, I should fear that it would be arrogant to laud for those very things for which I would give thanks. I will add just this one thing: everything seemed to me the more laudable the more delightful, and the more delightful the more laudable they were.
Quid agis, quid acturus es? Ipse vitam iucundissimam — id est, otiosissimam — vivo. Quo fit, ut scribere longiores epistulas nolim, velim legere, illud tamquam delicatus, hoc tamquam otiosus. Nihil est enim aut pigrius delicatis aut curiosius otiosis.
What are you doing, what are you going to do? I myself live the most delightful life — that is, the most otiose. Hence it happens that I am unwilling to write longer epistles, but willing to read them, the former as a delicate one, the latter as an otiose one. For nothing is either more sluggish than the delicate or more curious than the otiose.
1 Incidi in materiam veram sed simillimam fictae, dignamque isto laetissimo altissimo planeque poetico ingenio; incidi autem, dum super cenam varia miracula hinc inde referuntur. Magna auctori fides: tametsi quid poetae cum fide? Is tamen auctor, cui bene vel historiam scripturus credidisses.
1 I have fallen upon material true but most similar to something fictitious, and worthy of that most joyous, most exalted, and plainly poetic genius of yours; and I did stumble upon it while, over dinner, various marvels were being reported from here and there. Great credibility belongs to the author: although what has a poet to do with credibility? Yet he is an author to whom you would, and rightly, have entrusted even the writing of history.
2 Est in Africa Hipponensis colonia mari proxima. Adiacet navigabile stagnum; ex hoc in modum fluminis aestuarium emergit, quod vice alterna, prout aestus aut repressit aut impulit, nunc infertur mari, nunc redditur stagno. 3 Omnis hic aetas piscandi navigandi atque etiam natandi studio tenetur, maxime pueri, quos otium lususque sollicitat.
2 There is in Africa a Hipponensian colony very close to the sea. A navigable lagoon lies adjacent; from this, in the manner of a river, an estuary emerges, which, by alternating turn, as the tide has either checked or driven it, is now carried into the sea, now returned to the lagoon. 3 Every age here is held by a zeal for fishing, navigating, and even swimming, especially the boys, whom leisure and play entice.
By these, glory and virtue are borne up most highly: he is the victor who has left farthest behind, just as the shore, so also the swimmers alongside. 4 In this contest a certain boy, bolder than the rest, was striving toward the farther reaches. A dolphin meets him, and now to precede the boy, now to follow, now to go around; finally to go under, set him down, and go under again, and to carry the trembling boy first into the deep; soon it turns toward the shore, and gives him back to the land and to his peers.
Most especially the boy, who first had made the trial, swims up to the swimmer, leaps onto his back, is carried and carried back; he thinks he is recognized and loved, he himself loves; neither fears, neither is feared; the confidence of the one, the mansuetude of the other is increased. 7 Nor indeed do other boys fail to go along on the right and on the left at the same time, encouraging and admonishing. There went along together — that too a marvel — another dolphin, merely a spectator and companion.
For he neither did nor suffered anything similar, but he would lead and bring back that other one, as boys do a boy. 8 Incredible—yet as true as the former things—that the dolphin, the bearer and playmate of the boys, was accustomed also to be drawn out onto land, and, dried on the sands, when it had grown warm, to be rolled back into the sea. 9 It is agreed that Octavius Avitus, the legate of the proconsul, when it had been led out onto the shore, by a perverse scruple poured over an unguent, at whose novelty and odor it fled back into the deep, nor was it seen except after many days, sluggish and sad; soon, its strength restored, it resumed its former playfulness and its accustomed ministrations.
10 All the magistrates were flocking to the spectacle, by whose arrival and delay the modest state was being worn down by new expenditures. At last the place itself was losing its own quiet and seclusion: it was resolved to have him secretly killed, to which end they were assembling. 11 These things — with what pity, with what abundance — you will bewail, you will adorn, you will exalt!
1 Explica aestum meum: audio me male legere, dumtaxat versus; rationes enim commode, sed tanto minus versus. Cogito ergo recitaturus familiaribus amicis experiri libertum meum. Hoc quoque familiare, quod elegi non bene sed melius — scio — lecturum, si tamen non fuerit perturbatus.
1 Unravel my agitation: I hear that I read badly, at least verses; for I handle the accounts suitably, but so much the less, the verses. Therefore, as I am going to recite to familiar friends, I am thinking to try out my freedman. This too is familiar, that I have chosen one who—I know—will read not well but better, if, that is, he is not perturbed.
2 For he is as new a reader as I am a poet. I myself do not know what I should do in the meantime while he is reading: should I sit fixed and mute and like a man at leisure, or, as some do, follow along what he will pronounce with a murmur, with my eyes, with my hand? But I think I dance no less badly than I read.
Yet such reverence I owe both to the letters themselves and to your writings, that I would think it irreligious to take them up unless with a vacant mind. 2 I highly approve your diligence in re-examining your works. There is, however, some measure: first, because excessive care wears away more than it emends; then, because it calls us back from the more recent things, and at the same time neither completes the earlier nor permits us to inchoate the later.
1 Quaeris, quemadmodum in Tuscis diem aestate disponam. Evigilo cum libuit, plerumque circa horam primam, saepe ante, tardius raro. Clausae fenestrae manent; mire enim silentio et tenebris ab iis quae avocant abductus et liber et mihi relictus, non oculos animo sed animum oculis sequor, qui eadem quae mens vident, quotiens non vident alia.
1 You ask how I arrange my day in the Tuscan country in summer. I wake when it pleases me, for the most part about the first hour, often earlier, later rarely. The windows remain closed; for, wonderfully, in silence and darkness, withdrawn from the things that avocate and both free and left to myself, I follow not my eyes with my mind but my mind with my eyes, which see the same things as the mind, whenever they do not see other things.
2 I consider, if I have anything in hand, I consider like one writing and emending word for word, now fewer things, now more, as they could either with difficulty or with ease be composed or retained. I call a notary, and, the day admitted, I dictate what I had shaped; he goes away and is called back again and is dismissed again. 3 When at the fourth or fifth hour — for the time is neither fixed nor measured -, as the day advises, I betake myself to the xystus or the cryptoporticus; I ponder the remainder and I dictate.
I mount a vehicle. There too I do the same as when walking or lying down; my attention endures, refreshed by the change itself. I doze again a little, then I walk, soon I read a Greek or Latin oration clearly and intently, not so much for the sake of the voice as of the stomach; nevertheless that too is strengthened equally.
4 Again I walk; I am anointed, I exercise, I bathe. As I am dining, if with my wife or a few, a book is read; after dinner, a comedy or a lyrist; soon I walk with my own, among whom are erudite men. Thus with various conversations the evening is extended, and although the day is very long, it is well brought to a close.
5 Sometimes some things are changed from this order; for if I have lain long or walked, after sleep and then reading I am carried not by a vehicle but, as being shorter because swifter, on a horse. Friends from the neighboring towns drop in and draw a portion of the day to themselves, and sometimes, for me when weary, they come to my aid with an opportune interpellation. 6 I hunt at times, but not without writing tablets, so that although I may have taken nothing, I may bring back not nothing.
1 Nec tuae naturae est translaticia haec et quasi publica officia a familiaribus amicis contra ipsorum commodum exigere, et ego te constantius amo quam ut verear, ne aliter ac velim accipias, nisi te Kalendis statim consulem videro, praesertim cum me necessitas locandorum praediorum plures annos ordinatura detineat, in qua mihi nova consilia sumenda sunt. 2 Nam priore lustro, quamquam post magnas remissiones, reliqua creverunt: inde plerisque nulla iam cura minuendi aeris alieni, quod desperant posse persolvi; rapiunt etiam consumuntque quod natum est, ut qui iam putent se non sibi parcere. 3 Occurrendum ergo augescentibus vitiis et medendum est.
1 Nor is it in your nature to exact these traditional and as‑it‑were public duties from familiar friends against their own advantage, and I love you more steadfastly than to fear that you will take it otherwise than I wish, unless I at once see you consul on the Kalends, especially since the necessity of leasing out the estates, which is going to set several years in order, detains me, in which I must adopt new counsels. 2 For in the previous five‑year period, although after great remissions, the arrears increased: hence for most there is now no care of lessening their debt, because they despair that it can be paid in full; they even seize and consume what has been produced, like men who now think that they need not spare themselves. 3 We must therefore confront the increasing vices and apply a remedy.
One remedy alone: if I let out not for coin but in shares, and then appoint from among my own some overseers of the work, custodians for the produce. And otherwise, no kind of revenue is more just than that which earth, sky, and year render. 4 But this demands great good faith, sharp eyes, and numerous hands.
1 Haruspicum monitu reficienda est mihi aedes Cereris in praediis in melius et in maius, vetus sane et angusta, cum sit alioqui stato die frequentissima. 2 Nam Idibus Septembribus magnus e regione tota coit populus, multae res aguntur, multa vota suscipiuntur, multa redduntur; sed nullum in proximo suffugium aut imbris aut solis. 3 Videor ergo munifice simul religioseque facturus, si aedem quam pulcherrimam exstruero, addidero porticus aedi, illam ad usum deae has ad hominum.
1 By the monition of the haruspices, the temple of Ceres on my estates must be refitted for me, into the better and the greater—indeed it is old and narrow—although otherwise on the stated day it is most frequented. 2 For on the Ides of September a great populace comes together from the whole region; many matters are transacted, many vows are undertaken, many are paid; but there is no shelter nearby from either rain or sun. 3 I seem, therefore, about to act both munificently and religiously, if I shall erect a temple as beautiful as possible, and shall add porticoes to the temple—that one for the use of the goddess, these for that of men.
4 I would like, therefore, that you purchase four marble columns, of whatever kind shall seem good to you; purchase marbles with which the floor, with which the walls may be embellished. A statue of the goddess herself must also be made, because that ancient one of wood has been truncated by age in certain of its parts. 5 As for the porticoes, nothing for the moment occurs that seems to have to be procured from there, unless, however, that you write the form according to the rationale of the place.
For the temples indeed cannot be encircled: for the ground of the temple is on this side girded by the river and by most abrupt banks, on that side by the road. 6 Beyond the road there is a very broad meadow, in which quite aptly, opposite the temple itself, porticoes will be laid out; unless you find something better, you who are wont to overcome the difficulties of places by art. Farewell.
1 Scribis pergratas tibi fuisse litteras meas, quibus cognovisti quemadmodum in Tuscis otium aestatis exigerem; requiris quid ex hoc in Laurentino hieme permutem. 2 Nihil, nisi quod meridianus somnus eximitur multumque de nocte vel ante vel post diem sumitur, et, si agendi necessitas instat, quae frequens hieme, non iam comoedo vel lyristae post cenam locus, sed illa, quae dictavi, identidem retractantur, ac simul memoriae frequenti emendatione proficitur. 3 Habes aestate hieme consuetudinem; addas huc licet ver et autumnum, quae inter hiemem aestatemque media, ut nihil de die perdunt, de nocte parvolum acquirunt.
1 You write that my letters were very welcome to you, by which you learned how I was spending the otium of summer in the Tuscan country; you ask what from this I change in winter at the Laurentine. 2 Nothing, except that the meridian sleep is omitted and much is taken from the night, either before or after day, and, if the necessity of acting (which is frequent in winter) presses, there is no longer room after dinner for a comedian or a lyrist, but those things which I have dictated are repeatedly reworked, and at the same time progress is made for the memory by frequent emendation. 3 You have the routine for summer and winter; you may add here spring and autumn, which are in the middle between winter and summer, since they lose nothing of the day, they acquire a very little of the night.