Quintilian: DECLAMATIONES MAIORES

Let there be an action for damage given through injury. A poor man and a rich man were neighbors in a field, with the little gardens joined. The rich man had flowers in his garden, the poor man bees.

questus est dives flores suos decerpi ab apibus pauperis. denuntiavit, ut transferret. illo non transferente flores suos veneno sparsit.

The rich man complained that his flowers were being plucked by the poor man’s bees. He gave notice that he should relocate them. When that man did not relocate them, he sprinkled his flowers with poison.

apes pauperis omnes perierunt. reus est dives damni iniuria dati.

All the poor man’s bees perished. The rich man is liable for damage wrongfully caused.

[1] Credo ego, iudices, plerosque mirari, quod homo tenuis et iam ante quam quod habebam perdidi, pauper, ausus sim iudicio lacessere divitem utique vicinum eumque notae inpotentiae, expertae crudelitatis, in tantis fortunae viribus perniciosum inimicum, etiam si venena non habeat. Neque hoc ipse periculum ignoro expertus non levi documento, quanti steterit mihi, quod semel inperata non feci. sed neque illud, iudices, damnum tolerabile est pauperi, cum tam parvis etiam divites moveantur, et mihi, quamquam prope nihil iam relictum est, quod perderem, si tamen ista impune sustinenda sint, solacium erit iram potius quam contemptum pati.

[1] I believe, judges, that many are marveling that a man of slender means—and, poor even before I lost what I had—dared to challenge in court a rich man, especially a neighbor and one of notorious intemperance, of cruelty I have experienced, a pernicious enemy with such forces of fortune, even if he does not have poisons. Nor am I myself unaware of this peril, having learned by no light proof how dearly it cost me that I once did not do the things commanded. But neither is that loss tolerable for a poor man, judges, since at such small things even the rich are moved; and for me, although almost nothing is now left that I might lose, if nevertheless these things must be borne with impunity, it will be a consolation to suffer wrath rather than contempt.

nec sane vitae causa iam superest, si ad ceteras humilitatis nostrae contumelias hoc quoque accedat, ut, si habemus aliquid, migrandum sit, si perdidimus, tacendum. unum oro, ne cui minor dignitate vestra videatur causa litis meae. ante omnia enim non debetis expectare, uti pauper magna perdiderim.

Nor indeed does a cause for life now remain, if to the other contumelies of our lowliness this also be added: that, if we have anything, we must migrate; if we have lost it, we must be silent. One thing I beg: let the cause of my lawsuit seem to none of you inferior to your dignity. For before all, you ought not to expect that a pauper has lost great things.

sed quantulum est, quod abstulerit mihi dives, minus est, quod reliquit. et tamen quis indignatur apes formula vindicari, cum venenis etiam flosculi vindicentur? quae tamen, iudices, quamquam eversus et ab omni spe tuendae paupertatis exclusus, aequiore animo omnia tolerarem, si cuius mihi conscius culpae etiamsi iniustam poenam, meritam tamen iram tulissem.

but how little is that which the rich man has taken from me; less is that which he has left. And yet who is indignant that bees are vindicated by a formula, since even little blossoms are vindicated by poisons? And yet, judges, although overthrown and excluded from every hope of defending my poverty, I would tolerate everything with a more equitable spirit, if I were conscious to myself of any fault, even if I had borne an unjust penalty, yet a wrath I had merited.

sed circumspicienti omnia nihil mihi obici potest a divite, nisi quod vicinus sum.

but, with everything surveyed, nothing can be objected against me by the rich man, except that I am his neighbor.

[2] Est mihi paternus, iudices, agellus, sane angustus et pauper, non vitibus consitus, non frumentis ferax, non pascuis laetus; ieiunae modo glebae atque humilis thymi, et non late pauperi casae circumiecta possessio. verum mihi vel hoc fuit gratissima, quod non fuit digna, quam dives concupisceret. in hoc ego vitae meae secreto remotus a tumultu civitatis ignobile aevum agere procul ab ambitu et omni maioris fortunae cupiditate constitui et, dum molesta lege naturae transiret aetas, vitam fallere.

[2] I have, judges, a paternal little field, truly narrow and poor, not planted with vines, not fertile in grains, not gladsome in pastures; merely of meager clod and lowly thyme, and a possession not spread wide, surrounding a poor cottage. Yet this was most pleasing to me for this very reason, that it was not worthy for a rich man to covet. In this seclusion of my life, removed from the tumult of the city, I resolved to pass an inglorious age far from ambition and every cupidity of greater fortune, and, while age passed by the troublesome law of nature, to beguile life.

hoc mihi parvulum terrae et humilis tugurii rusticum culmen aequitas animi regna fecerat, satisque divitiarum erat nihil amplius velle. quid prodest? sic quoque me latentem invenit invidia.

This tiny bit of earth and the rustic roof-crest of a lowly hut, equanimity of mind had made into realms for me, and it was enough of riches to want nothing more. What does it profit? Thus even so envy found me in hiding.

nec ab initio, iudices, vicinus divitis fui; pares circa me habitavere domini, et frequentibus villis concors vicinia parvos limites coluit. quod cives pascebat, nunc divitis unius hortus. postquam proximos quosque revellendo terminos ager locupletis latius inundavit, <postquam> aequatae solo villae et excisa pagor<um> sacra et cum coniugibus parvisque liberis respectantes patrium larem migraverunt veteres coloni et latae solitudinis indiscreta unitas facta est, [postquam] ad apes meas divitis fundus accessit.

nor from the beginning, judges, was I a neighbor of a rich man; equals dwelt around me as masters, and with villas in plenty the harmonious neighborhood cherished the small boundaries. What fed the citizens is now the garden of one rich man. After, by tearing up the nearest boundaries, the land of the wealthy overflowed more widely, <postquam> the villas were leveled with the ground and the sacred places of the pagor<um> were cut down, and the old colonists with their wives and little children, looking back at the ancestral hearth, migrated, and a featureless oneness of broad solitude was made, [postquam] the rich man’s estate reached up to my bees.

Namque ego, iudices, dum fortius opus permisit aetas, terram manibus subegi, et difficultatem labore perdomui, et invito solo nonnihil tamen fecunditatis expressi. cito labitur dies, et proclivis in pronum fertur aetas; abiere vires, census meus, defectaque labore senectus, magna pars mortis, nihil mihi reliquit nisi diligentiam.

For indeed I, judges, while age permitted a stronger task, I subdued the earth with my hands, and I thoroughly overcame difficulty by labor, and from an unwilling soil I nevertheless pressed out some fecundity. quickly the day slips, and age, sloping, is borne headlong into the downward; my strengths have departed, my means, and old age, exhausted by toil, a great part of death, has left me nothing except diligence.

[3] circumspicienti, quod conveniret opus invalidae senectutis curae, succurrebat sequi pecora, fetuque placidi gregis paupertatem tueri, sed ex omni parte circumiectus divitis ager vix tenuem ad gressus meos semitam dabat. quid agimus? inquam, undique vallo divitiarum clusi sumus.

[3] As I looked around for what work would be suitable to the care of feeble old age, it came to mind to follow the herds, and to sustain my poverty by the offspring of a placid flock; but on every side the wealthy man’s field, thrown around me, scarcely gave a tenuous path for my steps. What are we to do? I say, on all sides we are enclosed by a rampart of riches.

hinc hortuli locupletis, hinc arva, inde vineta, hinc saltus; nullus terra[e] datur exitus. quaeramus animal, quod volet. nam quid apibus invenit natura praestantius?

Here the little gardens of the wealthy man, here the fields, then the vineyards, here the forest-pastures; no exit from the land is given. Let us seek a creature that will go as it pleases. For what has nature found more preeminent than bees?

parcae, fideles, laboriosae. o animal simile pauperibus! et sane dabat occasionem mihi oportunitas hortuli mei; est namque positus ad ortus solis hiberni, apricus omnibus ventis.

frugal, faithful, laborious. o animal akin to the poor! and indeed the opportunity of my little garden gave me an occasion; for it is positioned toward the rising of the winter sun, sunny to all winds.

modicus fusus ex proximo fonte rivus trepidantibus inter radiantes calculos aquis utrimque ripa virente praeterfluit. satis consiti flores et viridis quamvis paucarum arborum coma nascentibus populis prima sedes, unde ego frequenter consertum novae iuventutis agmen ramo gravescente suscepi. nec me tanta capiebat voluptas, quod fluentia ceris mella conderem, quod ad sustinendas paupertatis impensas deferrem in urbem quod divites emerent, quam quod adversus omnia lassae taedia aetatis habebam senex, quod agerem: iuvabat aut lenta vimina vernis fetibus texere vel, ne aestivus ardor aut hiberna vis gravidam penetraret alvum, hiantis rimas tenaci linire fimo, aut fessis apibus ultro praebere mella aut fugiens examen aere terrere aut bella sedare pulveris iactu, tum, ne quid periculi saltem singulis esset, avidas longe fugare volucres et arcere parva <a>ditu animalia, reclusas interim scrutari apium domos, ne per vacuas alvos foeda pestis insidiosas texeret plagas.

a modest stream, poured from a nearby spring, flows past between radiant pebbles with trembling waters, the bank green on both sides. flowers thickly planted and the green foliage, though of only a few trees, were the first seat for nascent peoples (the swarms), whence I often received the close-packed column of new youth, as the branch grew heavy. nor did so great a pleasure take me in that I might store honey flowing among the wax, that I might carry into the city, to sustain the expenses of poverty, what the rich would buy, as that I, an old man, had, against all the tediums of a weary age, something to do: it delighted me either to weave pliant withies for the spring broods, or, lest the summer heat or the winter force should penetrate the pregnant belly (hive), to smear the gaping cracks with tenacious dung; or to offer honey of my own accord to the tired bees; or to terrify a fleeing swarm with bronze; or to settle wars by the casting of dust; then, lest there be any danger at least for individuals, to chase far away greedy birds and to ward off small <a>ditu animals, meanwhile to scrutinize the opened homes of the bees, lest through empty hives a foul pest should weave insidious snares.

[4] Dederam laboribus meis iustam senex missionem; habebam, quae pro me opus facerent. quo non penetras, livor improbe, quidve scabrae malignitati clausum est? invidit pauperi dives!

[4] I had given my labors, as an old man, a just discharge; I had what would do the work for me. Whither do you not penetrate, shameless envy, and what is closed to scabrous malignity? The rich man envied the pauper!

cum evocasset me subito trepidum totoque fortunae suae strepitu circumstetisset, 'quid? tu,' inquit, 'non potes imperare apibus tuis intra privatum volent, ne hortorum meorum floribus insidant, ne in meo rorem legant? remove, transfer!' inpotentissime tyranne, quo?

when he had suddenly summoned me, trembling, and had hemmed me in with the whole din of his fortune, ‘what? you,’ he says, ‘can you not command your bees to fly within your private domain, not to sit upon the flowers of my gardens, not to gather dew on my ground? remove, transfer!’ most overbearing tyrant, to where?

numquid tam latum possideo agellum, ut illum apes transvolare non possint? neque tamen tantum inerat pectori meo robur, ut non perturbarer denuntiatione notae inpotentiae. volui relinquere avitos lares et conscios natalium parietes et ipsam nutriculam casam iamque pauperem focum et fumosa tecta et consitas meis manibus arbusculas destinatus exul ~decreveram~. volui, iudices, decedere, volui, sed nullum potui invenire agellum, in quo non mihi vicinus dives esset.

Do I really possess so broad a little plot that the bees cannot fly across it? Nor yet was there so much strength in my breast that I was not disturbed by the denunciation of a notorious intemperance. I wanted to leave my ancestral Lares and the walls privy to my birth, and the very cottage that had nursed me, and the now-poor hearth and the smoky roofs, and the little trees planted by my own hands—marked out as an exile I had ~decreed~. I wished, judges, to depart, I wished, but I could find no little plot in which I did not have a rich neighbor.

Nec tamen licuit diu quaerere. forte serenus pura luce fulserat dies, et hilaris matutini solis tepor ad cotidiana opera laetius solito agmen effuderat. quin ipse spectator operis (praecipua namque haec mihi voluptas erat) processeram sperans fore, ut viderem, quemadmodum aliae libratae pinnis onera conferrent, aliae deposita sarcina in novas prorumperent praedas, et, quamquam angusto festinaretur aditu, turba tamen exeuntium non obstaret intrantibus, aliae militaribus castris pellerent vulgus ignavum, aliae longum permensae iter fatigatae anhelitum traherent, haec ad aestivum solem porrectas panderet pinnas. miserum me, ignoscite modo gemitibus meis:

Nor yet was it permitted to search for long. by chance a serene day had shone with pure light, and the cheerful tepor of the matutinal sun had poured forth to quotidian works a column more gladly than usual. Nay rather I myself, a spectator of the work (for this was my chief pleasure), had gone forth hoping that I would see how some, poised by pinions, would carry in their burdens, others, the pack laid down, would burst forth into new prey, and, although there was hurrying at a narrow entrance, yet the crowd of those going out would not obstruct those going in; others, as in military camps, would drive the slothful crowd; others, having traversed a long journey, wearied, would draw panting breath; this one would spread pinions stretched out to the estival sun. Wretched me, only pardon my groans:

[5] non flosculos perdidi, nec caduca folia proximo lapsura vento; [apisci K cum volarent] suffugium tenuitatis meae, solacium senectutis amisi. numquam me alias pauperem putavi. triste me excepit silentium et inanis alvei inchoata tantum opera et rudes cerae.

[5] I did not lose little blossoms, nor caducous leaves about to slip at the next wind; [to catch K when they were flying] I lost the refuge of my tenuity, the solace of my old age. Never at any other time did I think myself poor. A sad silence received me, and the works of an empty hive only begun, and raw wax.

vos, iudices, aestimate, quatenus recipiatis hunc adfectum meum: libenter bibissem, si invenissem, venenum.

You, judges, estimate to what extent you receive this my feeling: I would gladly have drunk poison, if I had found it.

Hoc mihi damnum non brumae glacialis penetrabilis <intulit> rigor; non suppressi longa siti flores induxerunt ieiunam miseris famem, non aviditas iniusta domini nihil mellis reservavit; non aliquis fessas morbus invasit, non damnatis sedibus suis avias fuga petiere silvas. apes pauper miser in opere perdidi. paravit homo nefarius ante omnia tantum veneni, quod posset et divitis hortis satis esse, et linivit flores maleficis sucis et in venenum mella convertit.

This loss was not inflicted on me by the penetrating rigor of icy winter; nor did flowers, suppressed by long thirst, bring upon the wretched a jejune famine; nor did the master’s unjust avidity leave no honey in reserve; nor did some disease attack the weary ones; nor, with their own seats condemned, did they in flight seek the trackless forests. I, a poor wretch, lost the bees at their work. A nefarious man prepared before all things so much poison as could be sufficient even for a rich man’s gardens, and he smeared the flowers with malefic juices and converted the honey into venom.

Sparsit omnibus floribus mortem, et quanto plura interim corrupit quam quae apes abstulissent! illae studio cotidiani operis excitatae, ut primum aurora lucem vocavit, in adsueta miserae pascua volant, ut, ante quam noctis umorem radii solis ebiberent, matutinos legerent rores et caelestis aquas ad horreum ferre possent, nec sibi sed operi biberent.

He scattered death upon all the flowers, and how many more in the meantime did he corrupt than those which the bees would have carried off! They, roused by the zeal of their quotidian work, as soon as Dawn called forth the light, fly to their accustomed pastures, poor creatures, so that, before the rays of the sun should imbibe the moisture of the night, they might gather the matutinal dews and be able to carry the celestial waters to the granary, and drink not for themselves but for the work.

[6] hic triste spectaculum et tantum non ipsi, qui fecerat, miserandum: illa ad primum feralis suci haustum insolito consternata gustu fugit, sed fugisse nihil prodest. illa longiores expetitura pastus in altum tollitur vitamque in aura relinquit. Haec primo statim flosculo inmoritur.

[6] here a sad spectacle, and all but pitiable even to the very one who had done it: she, at the first draught of the funereal juice, dismayed by the unusual taste, flees; but to have fled avails nothing. That one, about to seek longer pastures, is lifted into the heights and leaves her life in the air. This one dies at once upon the very first little flower.

illa rigescentibus morte pedibus exanimis, sicut haeserat, pendet. alia defecta nisu volandi adhuc per terram languide repit. si quas tamen usque ad sedem suam distulit mors lentior, sicut aegrae solent sub ipsis pendere portis, in globum nexas et mutuo amplexas mors sola divisit.

that one, lifeless, with feet stiffening in death, hangs just as she had stuck fast. another, exhausted by the effort of flying, still crawls languidly along the ground. if, however, a slower death has carried some all the way to their seat, as the sick are wont to hang beneath the very portals, woven into a globe and clasped in mutual embrace, death alone has divided them.

quis figurare possit, quis dicere, quam multas mali formas, quam varia leti genera fecerint tot mortes! semel ut ipse tristem finiam expositionem, dicendum est: omnes perdidi. celebre illud alvearium et domino suo notius ad nihilum recidit.

who could figure, who could say, how many forms of evil, how varied kinds of death, so many deaths have made! that, once for all, I myself may end the sad exposition, it must be said: I have lost them all. that celebrated hive, and better known to its own master, has fallen back to nothing.

Audete nunc lacessere divitem, quibus vitae causa superest, exerite libertatem fortibus verbis, si quid offenderit; et quod difficillimum fuit iam expertus est: venenum. quod si mihi fortuna vel ingenii vires vel suas dedisset, crimen istud non privatam taxationem formulae merebatur. venenum leges habere, emere, nosse denique vetant, inevitabilem pestem occulta fraude grassantem.

Now dare to challenge the rich man, you to whom a reason for life still remains; draw forth your liberty with brave words, if he has offended in anything; and he has already experienced what was most difficult: poison. But if fortune had given to me either the powers of genius or its own, that crime would not have deserved a private assessment by formula. The laws forbid to have, to buy, finally even to know poison, an inevitable pest advancing by occult fraud.

male haeret ibi innocentia, ubi in potestate est secretum scelus. [velut] venenum, et quidem praesentaneum, inventum, compositum, datum est. quantulum interest, quis biberit!

Innocence sits ill there, where secret crime is within one’s power. [for example] poison, and indeed instantaneous, has been discovered, compounded, and administered. How little does it matter who has drunk it!

homo dedit; et homini dari potest. non adeo desunt odiorum causae, ut iam rara simultas sit, et, ut videatur aliquis nihil magis quam [m]alios odisse, libebit aliquando longius manum porrigere et indulgere animis. credite mihi, iudices: difficilius est venenum invenire quam inimicum.

A man gave it; and it can be given to a man. Causes of hatreds are not so lacking that a feud is now rare; and, so that someone may seem to hate nothing more than others, he will at times be inclined to stretch his hand farther and indulge his passions. Believe me, judges: it is more difficult to find venom than an enemy.

[7] Sed me conscia mediocritatis infirmitas intra meas tantummodo continet querelas. nam damnum, id est, iudices, gravissimum pauper vulnus accepi. quod mihi diutius deflendum apud vos quam probandum est, nam coarguendi quidem criminibus quis labor est adversus confitentem?

[7] But the infirmity, conscious of my mediocrity, confines me only within my own complaints. For I have received a loss—that is, judges, the most grievous wound of a pauper. This is for me to be bewailed longer before you than to be proved; for indeed, what labor of convicting by charges is there against one who confesses?

habent divites hoc quoque contra nos contumeliosum, quod non tanti videmur, ut negent. porro qui confessum defendit, non absolutionem sceleris petit, sed licentiam. longius ista, quam timui, quaestio pertinet; non de praeterito tantum litigamus; hoc agitur, ut, etiam si quid forte reparavero, iterum diviti liceat occidere.

the rich have this too, as an insult against us: that we do not seem of such worth as to merit a denial. moreover, he who defends one who has confessed does not seek absolution of the crime, but license. this question reaches farther than I feared; we are litigating not only about the past; the matter at issue is that, even if by chance I should repair anything, it may again be permitted to the rich man to kill.

In duas enim, quantum animadvertere potui, quaestiones dividit causam: an damnum sit, et an iniuria datum. negat esse damnum, quod animal liberum et volucre et vagum et extra imperia positum perdiderim. negat iniuria datum, quod in privato suo, quod eas, quae sibi nocerent, extinxerit, postremo, quod sparso tantum per flores veneno ipsae apes ultro ad mortem venerint.

For into two questions, so far as I was able to notice, he divides the case: whether there is damage, and whether it was inflicted with injury. He denies that there is damage, because I lost an animal free, winged, and wandering, and placed beyond command. He denies that it was inflicted with injury, because it was on his own private property, because he extinguished those which were hurting him, and finally, because, with poison only scattered over the flowers, the bees themselves came of their own accord to death.

ut nihil esset, quod his possem respondere, aequum erat inter vicinos sic agi? sed excutiam singula, nec prius meis argumentis nitar, quam diversa reppulero, quoniam quidem quaeritur, an damnum sit perdere, quod lucrum est habere.

Even if there were nothing that I could respond to these points, was it equitable for things to be conducted thus between neighbors? But I will shake out the particulars, nor will I rely on my own arguments before I have repelled the opposing ones, since indeed the question is, whether it is damage to lose that which it is profit to have.

[8] Liberum est animal, puta; non dico fetus meis manibus exceptos et in tutam conditos sedem et, reservatis ad supplementa generis favis, examen vernaculum, quoniam quidem tyrannorum iura defendis, natos in privato meo. puta me vel inanis arboris trunco vel cavis inventos petris domum favos retulisse; multa nihilominus, quae libera fuerant, transeunt in ius occupantium sicut venatio et aucupatio. nam, ut cetera animalia hominum causa finxerit providentia, quod omnibus nascitur, industriae praemium est.

[8] It is a free animal, suppose; I do not speak of offspring caught by my own hands and settled in a safe abode and, with combs reserved for the supplement of the stock, a native swarm—since indeed you defend the rights of tyrants—born on my private property. Suppose I brought home honeycombs found either in the trunk of an empty tree or in hollow rocks; many things nonetheless, which had been free, pass into the right of occupiers, just as in hunting and fowling. For, just as Providence has fashioned the other animals for the sake of men, that which is born for all is the reward of industry.

quid autem non liberum natura genuit? taceo de servis, quos bellorum iniquitas in praedam victoribus dedit, isdem legibus, eadem forma, eadem necessitate natos; ex eodem caelo spiritum trahunt, nec natura illis sed fortuna dominum dedit. cur infrenatis equis victor insidet, cur iniusto cotidie iugo boum colla deterimus, cur in usum vestium saepe pecori lanae detrahuntur?

But what has nature not begotten free? I pass over slaves, whom the iniquity of wars has given as plunder to the victors, born under the same laws, the same form, the same necessity; they draw breath from the same sky, and it was not nature but Fortune that gave them a master. Why does the victor sit astride unbridled horses, why do we daily wear down the necks of oxen with an unjust yoke, why are wools often drawn off the flock for the use of garments?

taceo de sanguine et epulis per mortem paratis. si omnia, quae libera generantur, naturae reddemus, desinitis divites esse. si vero haec condicio est, ut quicquid ex his animalibus in usum hominis cessit, proprium sit habentis, profecto quicquid iure possidetur, iniuria aufertur, ut volucres ~mutae et alia, quae per rusticas villas quaeque ditibus cellis saginantur, in quibus tamen domini <non> ambigua possessio est, et vaccae et armenta et omne pecudum genus.

I am silent about blood and feasts prepared through death. If we return to nature all the things that are generated free, you cease to be rich. But if this is the condition, that whatever from these animals has come into the use of man is the proper property of the possessor, then assuredly whatever is possessed by right is carried off by injury, as with mute birds and others which are kept through rustic farmsteads and are fattened in wealthy stalls, in which nevertheless the lord’s possession is <non> ambiguous, and cows and herds and every kind of cattle.

[9] 'Sed illa inpositus cohibet magister.' peiusne domino in his ius est, quibus custode non opus est? nam si hoc dici[ti]s, nihil esse nostrum, quod perire possit, ex nullius animalis damno haec edi formula potest. nam et errare pecudes solent et fugere mancipia.

[9] 'But a master imposed over them restrains them.' Is the master's right worse in the case of those who have no need of a custodian? For if you say this, that nothing is ours which can perish, then on account of the loss of no animal can this formula be put forth. For both flocks are wont to stray and slaves to flee.

si hoc in ceteris non obstat, <apes> vagari tu nolles, in opus exire et ad cotidianum censum laboris assidui non detractare militiam? at non ipsae domum sua sponte revolant finemque laboris sui sole metiuntur, et omnis intra solitas domos turba conditur, noctemque modesto silentio trahunt? age porro, ut non sit earum certa possessio, dum volant, nempe cum remearunt, cum cludi, transferri, donari, venire possunt, in potestate sunt.

If this is not an obstacle in other cases, would you not want <bees> to wander, to go out to work, and not to shirk the militia for the daily census of assiduous labor? But do they not themselves of their own accord fly back home and measure the end of their work by the sun, and is not the whole throng gathered within their accustomed homes, and do they not pass the night in modest silence? Come now, further: though there is not a sure possession of them while they are flying, surely when they have returned—since they can be shut in, transferred, donated, and sold—they are in one’s power.

quomodo autem potest sine damno meo perire, quod cotidie meum est?

However, how can what is mine every day perish without damage to me?

'At extra imperia positum est.' mirum hercules, si negato commercio sermonis humani sunt in ceterorum animalium forma. tamen quam dominus dedit, incolunt sedem, lascivientem luxuria fugam tinnitu conpescimus. etiam, si diversis regibus coorta seditio ad bellum inflammavit iras, exiguo pulvere vel unius poena ducis residit omnis tumor.

'But it is set beyond command.' By Hercules, a marvel, if, with the commerce of human speech denied, they are in the form of the other animals. Nevertheless, they inhabit the seat which the master gave; we restrain their flight, wantoning in luxury, by a ringing. Even if, with different kings, a sedition having arisen has inflamed their passions to war, with a slight dust, or by the punishment of a single leader, all swelling subsides.

illa vero admiranda sedulitas, quod operi totus insumitur dies, in dominorum reditus ablata supplentur. age, si obsequi possent, quid amplius imperares?

That truly admirable sedulity, in that the whole day is expended upon the work; as for the masters’ returns, what has been carried off is made good. Come now, if they were able to obey, what more would you command?

Intellego his vanis ultra necessitatem esse responsum. si non sunt apes meae, ne id quidem, quod his efficitur, meum est; atqui nulla umquam inveniri potuit inpudentia, quae fructus mellis in dubium vocaret. hoc ergo fieri forte potest, ut quod nascitur, meum sit, quod generat, alienum?

I understand that to these vain things an answer has been given beyond necessity. If the bees are not mine, not even that which is effected by them is mine; and yet no impudence could ever be found that would call into doubt the fruits of honey. Can it then perhaps happen that what is born is mine, while what begets is another’s?

[10] age, si mihi alvei furto abessent, utrum nulla daretur actio? an viminis modo vilisque texti pretium formula taxassem, et proinde agerem, quasi inanes perdidissem? nisi fallor, esset aestimatio et apum.

[10] Come now, if my hives were absent by theft, would no action be granted? Or would I have taxed by the formula only the price of the osier-work and of the cheap weaving, and proceed accordingly as if I had lost empty ones? Unless I am mistaken, there would be an appraisal of the bees as well.

an tandem quas subripere non liceret, liceat occidere? non est damnum, quod exutus sum, quod reditus perdidi, quod annuos fructus, praesidia paupertatis amisi? non est damnum id perdidisse, quod, ut proximo utar argumento, si habere voluero, emendum est?

Or then, may one kill those which it would not be permitted to pilfer? Is it not damage that I have been stripped, that I have lost revenues, that I have lost the annual fruits, the safeguards of poverty? Is it not damage to have lost that which, to use the nearest argument, if I wish to have, must be bought?

quid ergo tibi opus est maleficis sucis, cum liceret palam trucidare et plenas vel cremare igni vel aquis inmergere alvos? an est aliquod animal, quod non liceat nisi venenis occidere?

What need, then, have you of malefic juices, since it is permitted openly to butcher, and to cremate with fire the full hives, or to immerse them in waters? Or is there any animal which it is not permitted to kill except by poisons?

'Ut damnum sit,' inquit, 'iure tamen feci in privato meo.' per fidem vestram, iudices, succurrite exemplo; non sufficit his partibus unus rusticus pauper, obviam publice eundum est et obiciendae adversus nascentem licentiam consensu manus. credite mihi, maior lite quaestio est. hoc vobis hodie iudicandum est, ubi scelus facere non liceat.

'Granted that it is damage,' he says, 'nevertheless I did it by right on my own private property.' By your good faith, judges, come to the aid against the precedent; for this side one poor rustic is not enough, it must be confronted publicly, and a hand must be set, by common consent, in opposition to the nascent license. Believe me, the question is greater than the lawsuit. This is what must be judged by you today: where it is not permitted to commit crime.

nam cur non hoc idem de homicidio respondeat, cur non de latrocinio? non enim iure ista sed modo differunt. aperitur ingens furori via, et obluctantia diu legum velut claustris scelera libera porta prorumpunt.

for why does he not give this same answer about homicide, why not about latrociny? for these things differ not in law but in mode. a vast way is opened for frenzy, and crimes, long wrestling as if with the bars of the laws, burst forth through a free gate.

si in privatum iura non veniant, et in manifestissima quoque noxa non de facto quaeritur, sed de loco, non aequa portione cum sceleribus terras divisimus; ubi enim non iam divitum privatum est?

If the laws do not come into the private sphere, and even in the most manifest wrongdoing the inquiry is not about the deed but about the place, we have divided the lands with crimes in unequal portion; for where now is there not the private property of the rich?

[11] parum est proximos aequare terminos et possessiones suas velut quasdam gentes fluminibus montibusque distinguere. iam etiam devios saltus et silvas vasta solitudine horridas occupant, tot aquae intra paucorum umbram latent, e finibus suis populus excluditur, nec ullus procedentis finis est, nisi cum et in alterum divitem inciderit. adhuc tamen spolia transeuntium et abacti pecorum greges sub hoc titulo defendebantur; iam privati veneni transcriptio est?

[11] it is too little to level the nearest boundary-marks and to distinguish one’s possessions, as though certain nations, by rivers and mountains. Now they even seize remote glens and forests made dreadful by vast solitude; whol waters lie hidden under the shadow of a few, the people is excluded from its own borders, and there is no end for the one advancing, unless when he has also happened upon another rich man. Up to now, however, the spoils of passers-by and the herds of cattle driven off were defended under this pretext; is it now the registration of private poison?

iterum ac saepius, iudices, admoneo, considerate, dis<pi>cite: aut nihil usquam contra ius licet aut in privato omnia.

Again and again, judges, I admonish you: consider, discern: either nothing anywhere is permitted against the law, or in private everything is permitted.

'Etenim adversus inferentem damnum iusta ultio fuit.' dicam nunc, quam iniqua sit invicem iniuriae conpensatio quamque non solum legi adversa sed paci? barbarorum mos est populorum, quos procul omni iuris humani societate summotos proxime beluis natura efferavit. nos ideo magistratus legesque a maioribus nostris accepimus, ne sui quisque doloris iudex sit, et adsiduae scelerum causae [se] rebellant, si ultio crimen imitabitur.

'For indeed, retribution was just against one inflicting damage.' I will now say how inequitable is the reciprocal compensation of injury and how it is adverse not only to the law but to peace? It is the custom of barbarian peoples, whom, removed far from all fellowship of human law, nature has rendered savage, nearest to beasts. We for that reason have received magistrates and laws from our ancestors, lest each be the judge of his own grievance, and the continual causes of crimes [themselves] rebel, if retribution will imitate the crime.

damnum accepisti? erat lex, forum, iudex, nisi si vos iure vindicari pudet. at mehercule, si ad arma mittimur, et instituitur perniciosa nocendi contentio, et in vicem legis ira succedit, premetur quidem obnoxia infirmitas, et paucorum dominio subiecta plebes triste servitium perferet; est tamen et pauperibus interim dolor, et, ut facilius nobis noceri potest, ita vobis latius.

Have you suffered damage? There was law, the forum, a judge—unless you are ashamed to be vindicated by right. But, by Hercules, if we are sent to arms, and a pernicious contention of doing harm is instituted, and anger takes the place of law in turn, the vulnerable will indeed be oppressed, and the plebs, subjected to the dominion of a few, will endure a sad servitude; yet there is pain for the poor too meanwhile, and, as harm can more easily be done to us, so to you more broadly.

postremo, placeas licet tibi opum tuarum fiducia, dives; si mihi vivere non expedit, pares sumus.

finally, though the confidence of your wealth may please you, rich man; if it is not expedient for me to live, we are equals.

[12] Quid ergo? si quid tibi damni attulissent apes meae, non mihi auferretur [r]actio, sed forsan aliqua daretur et tibi. nunc vero quid quereris?

[12] What then? If my bees had brought you any damage, my action would not be taken away from me, but perhaps some remedy would be granted to you as well. But now, what are you complaining of?

credo, depopulatos agros eversosque reditus; non enim debet leve esse damnum, quod dives ferre non possit. 'decerpebant,' inquit, 'flores meos.' ecquid intellegitis, iudices, quanto dolore dignum sit quod ego perdidi, si etiam hoc damnum est? 'flores aufere<bant>.' ita plane.

I believe, the fields laid waste and the revenues overturned; for the loss ought not to be light which a rich man cannot bear. 'they were plucking,' he says, 'my flowers.' Do you understand at all, judges, how great a pain what I lost is worthy of, if even this is a loss? 'they <were> carrying off the flowers.' Just so, plainly.

alioquin tu illos in vetustatem reservabas, et durarent adhuc, nisi ad hortum tuum apes venissent. cuius rei inveniri potest brevior aetas? namque dum inmaturos exterior alligat cortex, nondum dixeris florem.

otherwise you were reserving them for old age, and they would still endure, if the bees had not come to your garden. Of what thing can a shorter age be found? For while the outer rind binds them unripe, you would not yet call it a flower.

paulatim deinde vividiore suco tumescit uterus et albentis accipit rimas, necdum tamen flos est. at cum se ruptis iam tunicis in patulum capita fuderunt et velut fissa in orbem, iam quae tenera eorum videtur maturitas et ingenitus occasus est, et iam sine ventis quoque soluta natura labitur gratia, nec quicquam est flos nisi novus. quare si dicerem: abstulere peritura, et, quae protinus humi iacuissent, in usus hominum conversa, inauditus tamen livor videretur etiam apibus invidere.

little by little then the womb swells with a more vivid sap and takes whitening cracks, yet it is not yet a flower. But when, the tunics now burst, the heads have poured themselves wide open and, as if cleft into a circle, then what seems their tender maturity is an innate decline, and now even without winds their grace, loosened by nature, slips away, nor is anything a flower except new. Wherefore, if I were to say: they carried off things destined to perish, and, things which would forthwith have lain on the ground, turned into the uses of men, nevertheless unheard-of envy would seem to begrudge even the bees.

nunc vero disserendum mihi est, quam momentosa sit huius animalis rapina? nescimus, qua pernicitate plerumque vix contactis floribus revolet discurratque per singulos velox experimento, quam etiam, ubi inmorantur, libratis pendeant alis? quis umquam quod ferentem apem viderat, ubi deesset, invenit?

now indeed I must discourse: how momentous is the rapine of this animal? we do not know with what nimbleness, for the most part, with the flowers scarcely touched, it flies back and, swift as experiment shows, runs about through each singly; how also, when they linger, they hang with balanced wings? who ever found, when it was lacking, what he had seen a bee carrying?

[13] quantulum vero est, quod ex his manu consitis floribus legant! prata silvaeque vel maturae fructibus vites et fraglantes thymo colles, quantum coniectura suspicari potest, pabulum ministrant. non omnibus floribus carpunt utilia operi suo, sed in omnibus quaerunt.

[13] how scant indeed is that which they gather from these flowers sown by hand! Meadows and forests, and the vines ripe with fruits, and hills fragrant with thyme, so far as one can suspect by conjecture, minister fodder. They do not in all flowers pluck what is useful for their work, but in all they seek.

praesens quidem illa protinus redditur merces, quod omnibus, quibus insedere, odorem mellis inspirant et brevi contactu vim sui relinquunt. hoc tu damnum intellegis? hoc veneno vindicas, quod mehercule inhumane etiam fumo prohibuisses?

The present reward indeed is rendered forthwith: that they inspire the odor of honey into all things on which they have settled, and by brief contact leave behind the power of themselves. Do you understand this as a loss? Do you punish this with poison—something which, by Hercules, you would inhumanely even have prohibited by smoke?

An non te se<du>lus vicinus colui, non frugum mearum primitias omni vere misi, non, si quis ceris novis candidior incidit favus, tuis reservatus est mensis, cum parvis mediocritate munusculis illa semper adiceretur commendatio: 'hoc tibi mittunt apes meae'? puto, relata est mihi gratia!

Or did I not, as an assiduous neighbor, court you; did I not send the first-fruits of my crops every spring; was it not the case that, if any honeycomb turned out more shining-white than the new wax, it was reserved for your tables—when, along with little gifts of moderate measure, there was always added that commendation: ‘this my bees send to you’? I suppose, gratitude has been paid back to me!

'Admonui,' inquit, 'et, ut transferres, denuntiavi.' idcirco contumacem merito punisti? non enim video, quid aliud patricinio tuo conferat haec denuntiatio supervacua; si non licuit tibi facere quod queror, iniusta; si licuit, iusta; aut sine ista, aut ne cum ista quidem valeat. pudoris vero quod velamentum est male audire culpa, defendi superbia!

'I warned,' he says, 'and I gave formal notice that you should transfer them.' Therefore did you deservedly punish me as contumacious for that? For I do not see what else this superfluous denunciation contributes to your patronage: if it was not permitted to you to do what I complain of, it is unjust; if it was permitted, it is just; let it either have force without that, or not even with that. And as for modesty—what sort of veil is it, that to have an ill name for a fault should be defended by pride!

an tandem tuas pecudes quamvis diffusa stabula non capient, tibi omne armentis mugiet nemus, tu gregibus arva sulcabis, et ad excolendos agros procedet ignota etiam vilicis familia, tuis horreis populi annona pendebit, nec tamen invidebimus, nec quisquam tam<en> grave putabit sibi istud fortunae tuae pondus? nos si paucas apes intra angustias pauperis horti conposuimus, quae tamen vobis mella faciunt, id prorsus indigne ferendum est, et, quod numquam fando cognitum est, vicinus diviti pauper molestus est?

Or, in the end, will your flocks not be contained, however wide-spread the stalls; will for you the whole grove low with herds; will you furrow the fields for your droves, and to cultivate the lands there will even march out a household unknown to the bailiffs; on your granaries the people’s annona (grain-supply) will depend; and yet we shall not envy, nor will anyone nevertheless think that weight of your fortune burdensome to himself? If we have set a few bees within the narrow confines of a poor garden, which nevertheless make honey for you all, that must absolutely be borne as an outrage, and—what has never been known by report—a poor man is troublesome to a rich neighbor?

[14] adeo parum est plurimum possidere, ut, cum servis quoque vestris habere peculium liceat, invidiosum nobis putetis quicquid egestatis nomen excesserit? tam honestis in hac, ut putamus, aequissima libertate legibus vivimus, ut nobis habere medellam non liceat, vobis habere liceat venena?

[14] Is it so little to possess the very most, that, when even your slaves are allowed to have a peculium, you think anything that has exceeded the name of destitution to be invidious in us? Do we live by laws so honorable, in this, as we suppose, most equitable liberty, that it is not permitted to us to have a remedy, while it is permitted to you to have poisons?

Postremo quidem divitis patrocinio non putavi, iudices, respondendum, nisi rideri vestram maiestatem contumeliosa defensione non ferrem. 'ultro enim,' inquit, 'ad mortem venerunt apes tuae.' ita plane; alioquin tu venenum floribus dederas. impudentiaene, iudices, eius adsignem, si hoc nihi<l> apud vos obtinuerit, an stultitiae, si speravit?

Finally indeed, judges, I did not think a reply ought to be made to the rich man’s patronage, unless I could not bear that your majesty be laughed at by an insulting defense. 'For of their own accord,' he says, 'your bees came to death.' Yes, precisely; otherwise you had given poison to the flowers. Am I to ascribe it, judges, to his impudence, if this has not prevailed with you, or to his stupidity, if he hoped for it?

si venenum homini dedisset, diceret ipsum labiis admovisse pocula; si percussorem posuisset in saltu, ipsum in insidias ultro venisse clamaret; si telum obiectasset in tenebris, inlatum sua culpa contenderet. ego, iudices, quid dico? duo esse sola, quae omni in crimine spectanda sint, animum et eventum.

if he had given poison to a man, he would say that the man himself had brought the cups to his lips; if he had stationed an assassin in a woodland, he would cry out that the man himself had come into the ambush of his own accord; if he had cast a weapon in the dark, he would maintain that the harm was inflicted through his own fault. I, judges, what do I say? that there are only two things which in every crime are to be looked at: intention and event.

quis animus divitis fuit, cum venenum sparsit? ut apes perirent. quis eventus?

What was the rich man’s intent, when he sprinkled venom? That the bees might perish. What was the outcome?

perierunt. in summa, iudices, quis dubitat, quin damnum ei sit imputandum, sine quo non accidisset?

they perished. in sum, judges, who doubts that the damage is to be imputed to him, without which it would not have occurred?

[15] Intellego neque prudentiam vestram desiderare plura de causa neque vestram fidem ac religionem egere exhortatione vere iudicandi. quid moror igitur? tenet me dolor et adsuetae voluptatis desiderium.

[15] I understand that neither does your prudence desire more about the case nor do your faith and religion need an exhortation to judge truly. Why do I delay, then? Grief holds me, and the desire for accustomed pleasure.

sunt quaedam in hac causa, quae sarcire poena non possit. maior forsitan materia videatur adfectus, si pauperes amare nisi parva non possumus, et necessario nobis pretiosa, quae sola sunt. animum meum extinctae unius horae momento tot animae movent . . . quod perierint de me bene meritae.

There are certain things in this case which punishment cannot repair. Perhaps a greater matter for emotion may seem at hand, if we poor can love nothing except small things, and of necessity for us the precious things are the only ones we have. So many souls stir my mind at the instant of one hour’s extinction . . . because they have perished, well-deserving at my hands.

quin ipsum leti genus addit indignationem: veneno perierunt! quis hoc ulla satis persequi possit invidia? apes veneno!

Nay, the very genus of death adds indignation: they perished by poison! Who could with any indignation sufficiently pursue this? Bees—by poison!

haec illis gratia refertur, quod fructibus nostris invigilant, quod cotidiana statione laboris adsidui ne damno quidem summoventur? nam ut cetera animalia videtur mihi natura usibus nostris genuisse, haec etiam deliciis, cum eo quod in illis, quae vel scindendo solo vel maturando itineri comparamus, multus ante reditus insumitur labor, et, cum perdomanda, cum alenda sint, nihil tamen possunt sine homine, et tantum coacta prosunt. apes <opus> faciunt iniussae, ac sine ullo rationis humanae ministerio totus fructus ultro venit.

Is this the gratitude returned to them, that they keep watch over our fruits, that in a daily station of assiduous labor they are not even driven off by injury? For whereas Nature seems to me to have engendered the other animals for our uses, these also for our delights: in the case of those which we procure either for cleaving the soil or for speeding a journey, much labor is expended in advance of any return, and, since they must be thoroughly tamed and nourished, yet they can do nothing without man, and they profit only when coerced. Bees do the work unbidden, and without any ministry of human reason the entire fruit comes of its own accord.

Adice quod cetera aut satis incurrunt aut vitibus nocent, primaque, ut fama est, hostiae causa pecudi fuit laesa fruges. harum ita innoxius per prata silvasque discurrit labor, ut tantum factum opus appareat.

Add, too, that the others either make incursions upon the sowings or do harm to the vines; and first, as report has it, because the crops were damaged, the herd-beast became a sacrificial victim. Of these the labor runs so innocuous through meadows and woods that only the work done appears.

[16] Qua satis digna prosequar laude? dicam animal quodammodo parvum hominis exemplar? hoc humana excogitare non potuit sollertia.

[16] With what praise worthy enough shall I pursue it? Shall I call it an animal, in a certain manner a small exemplar of a human? This human ingenuity could not have excogitated.

etiam ratio nostra, quae sub terris lucrum invenit, quae maria inquisitione sua sideribus inmiscuit, hoc tamen efficere, consequi, imitari non potuit. venena potius invenimus. iam primum futurae laudabilis vitae digna principia: non illas libido progenerat, domitrixque omnium animalium Venus, utque homines in excusationem sui fabulis tradiderunt, etiam deorum potens, has regnis suis excepit.

Even our reason, which discovered lucre beneath the earth, which by its inquisition has commingled the seas with the stars, yet could not bring this to effect, attain it, imitate it. Poisons, rather, we discovered. Here, to begin with, are principles worthy of a life to be lauded hereafter: it is not libido that engenders them, and Venus, tamer of all animals—and, as men, in excuse of themselves, have handed down in fables, even potent over the gods—has excluded these from her realms.

abest inimica virtutium voluptas castis sine labe corporibus: solae omnium non edunt fetus sed faciunt. ipsae paulatim, sicut stipatae sunt per mella, vivescunt, et, ut oportet, animal laboriosum ex opere nascitur. inde ut adolevit iuventus, et ad similes labores aetas roborata convaluit, relinquitur liber parentibus locus, et, ne coacta in angustum multitudo nova turba laboret, quasi habita verecundiae ratione cedit populus minor, suspensumque proximis ramis examen humanas manus expectat; acceptas cum fide colit sedes.

The pleasure, inimical to virtues, is absent from bodies chaste and without stain: they alone of all do not bring forth offspring but make them. They themselves gradually, as they are packed amid the honey, come alive, and, as is fitting, a laborious animal is born from work. Then, when the youth has grown, and the age, strengthened, has convalesced for similar labors, a free place is left for the parents; and, lest the multitude, forced into a narrow space, the new crowd, be hard‑pressed, as if account had been taken of modesty, the lesser people yield, and the swarm, hanging from the nearest branches, awaits human hands; it inhabits the received seats with trust.

et, cum ingenia nostra, quae nos scilicet ambitiosi nostri aestimatores proxima divinis credimus, ad percipiendas disciplinas multo labore desudent, nulla apes nisi artifex nascitur. quid credas aliud quam divinae partem mentis his animis inesse? quid praecipuum referas?

and, while our intellects—which we, of course, ambitious evaluators of ourselves, believe to be nearest to the divine—sweat with much labor to apprehend the disciplines, no bee is born except as an artificer. what would you believe other than that a portion of the divine mind is present in these souls? what pre-eminent thing would you report?

[17] non, ut cetera animalia per pastus vaga, incertum quieti capiunt cubile noctis arbitrio semper habitatura, sed tutae sedes continent; urbes tectis, turba populos imitantur. non ut ferae volucres, non praesentis modo cibi memores in diem vivunt; duraturus hiemi reponitur victus, et repletis vere cellis tutus annus est. etiam cum ad humanos usus opera subducta sunt, reparare amissa contendunt, et labor damno incenditur, et numquam deficit animus ante quam locus.

[17] not, like the other animals wandering through pastures, do they, always to dwell by the night’s whim, take an uncertain bed for rest, noctis arbitrio semper habitatura, but they keep to secure seats; with their roofs they imitate cities, with their throng, peoples. not like wild birds do they live only for the day, mindful merely of present food; victual to endure the winter is laid up, and with the cells filled in spring, the year is safe. even when their works have been withdrawn for human uses, they strive to repair what was lost, and labor is inflamed by the loss, and their spirit never fails before the space does.

quid, quod inter animalia, quae non verba coniungunt, non vincla rationis invicem nectunt, tantus operis consensus est, tanta difficillimae rei laboris concordia? non humano vitio in proximos quaeque usus lucrum ducit; in publicum vivitur, et communes opes congeruntur in medium, nec fas est delibare gustu prius quam plena horrea securos spondeant menses. quis porro tantus ardor operis quaeve officiorum partitio, ut aliae congerant onera, aliae accipiant, aliae linant!

what, moreover, of this—that among animals which do not join words, do not mutually bind the bonds of reason, there is such a consensus of work, such a concord of labor in a most difficult matter? not by human vice does each draw profit to its nearest uses; life is lived for the public, and common resources are heaped into the common stock, nor is it right to take a taste before full granaries pledge secure months. who, furthermore, has such ardor for work, or what partition of offices, that some heap up burdens, others receive them, others plaster (seal) them!

quae severitas in castiganda inertia! multa dictu visuque miranda: praevidere tempestates nec dubio se caelo tradere nec ultra viciniam nubilo tendere. iam si levis iniquior aura rapuit, ad dirigendos in destinata cursus modico lapilli pondere librare pinnas.

What severity in chastising inertia! many things marvelous to say and to see: to foresee tempests and not to entrust themselves to a dubious sky, nor to stretch beyond the neighborhood when it is clouded. And if a lighter, more inequitable breeze has snatched them, to balance their pinions with the modest weight of a little pebble, for directing their courses to their destined goals.

illa maiorum pectorum: motis pro rege castris procurrere et inire bella mortemque honestam pro duce oppetere. adice quod, si quas aut aetas longior aut morbus oppressit, efferuntur prius corpora, posteriorque operum quam funerum cura est.

such are the hearts of the ancients: when the camp has been set in motion for the king, to run forward and to enter wars and to meet an honorable death for the leader. add this: that, if any are overwhelmed either by longer age or by sickness, the bodies are borne out first, and the care of works is later than the care of funerals.

[18] quid inligare cruribus flores, quid ore sucos in publicum ferre? me tamen ipsius operis praecipua admiratio subit: non eas temere nec fortuito figuram et sedes modo reponendis cibis quaesisse credas; rudis cera componitur, accedit usibus inenarrabilis decor. nam primum tenacibus vinculis fundamenta suspendunt, tum ab exordio in omnem partem opus aequaliter crescit, nec quicquam ex inchoatis parum est quod non sua portione perfectum.

[18] what of binding flowers to their legs, what of carrying juices by the mouth into the common store? Yet a chief admiration of the work itself comes over me: you would not think that they have sought the figure and the seats for storing provisions merely at random or by chance; the raw wax is composed, and to the uses an ineffable decor is added. For first they suspend the foundations with tenacious bonds, then from the exordium the work grows equally in every direction, nor is there anything among the things begun that is at all scant which is not perfected in its own portion.

~sit iam~ nec alia parte opus esset. <ipsi enim sibi invicem anguli haerent, et ita mutuo vinciuntur atque inligantur, ut, quod voles, id medium sit.> gemina frons ceris imponitur, et, cum foraminibus tantum spatium detur, quantum ad generanda examina <na>tura[m] apum capiat, his textis, ne universi mellis effluat pondus, intersaepta onera cluduntur. quis non stupeat hoc fieri posse sine manibus, nulla interveniente doctrina hanc artem nasci?

~let it now be~ nor would there be need in another part. <for the angles themselves adhere to one another, and are thus mutually bound and inligated, so that whatever you wish, that is the middle.> a twin front is laid upon the wax, and, when to the little holes only so much space is given as the ture[m] of the bees may take for generating swarms, with these woven, lest the weight of the entire honey flow out, the partitioned loads are enclosed. who would not be astonished that this can be done without hands, that, with no doctrine intervening, this art is born?

quid non divinum habent, nisi quod moriuntur!

what do they not have that is divine, except that they die!

[19] An vero auctorem vini Liberum colimus, primitiae frugum Cereri referuntur, inventrix oleae Minerva neratur, mella genuisse minus est et in temperanda gustus voluptate tantum effecisse, quantum ne ipsa quidem rerum natura per se potuit? ad plurimarum incursus valetudinum remedium est praesentissima medicina — nam quod ad cibos quidem pertinet, divites viderint. his animalibus aliquis insidiari potuit, et insidiari qua re mella facerent, haec pestiferis sucis, exquisita per fraudem morte confecit, et, quod sit indignissimum, quo facilius deciperet, fortasse venena melle permiscuit?

[19] Indeed, do we worship Liber as the author of wine, the first-fruits of the crops are referred to Ceres, the inventress of the olive Minerva isvenerated, but is it a lesser thing to have engendered honey and to have effected, in the tempering of the pleasure of taste, as much as not even nature of things itself by itself could accomplish? It is a most present medicine, a remedy against the incursions of very many illnesses — for as regards foods indeed, let the rich see to that. Could anyone lie in wait for these animals, and lie in wait by means of that with which they make honey, mix into these pestiferous juices, and dispatch them with a death contrived by fraud, and—what is most unworthy—in order the more easily to deceive them perhaps even mingle poisons with the honey?

quae tam inhumana crudelitas, quis tam inauditus livor! nihil est enim, quod utaris patrocinio tuo, dives: paucorum damno foliorum doluisse te simulas? dum meas apes occidere vis, flores tuos inutiles fecisti.

What so inhuman a cruelty, what so unheard-of an envy! For there is nothing, rich man, for which you may avail yourself of your own patronage: do you pretend that you have grieved at the loss of a few leaves? While you wish to kill my bees, you have rendered your flowers useless.