17. — TO CELER.
Every one has his own reasons for reciting. Mine, as I have already often said, is this, that in case anything escapes my notice (as certainly things do escape), I may be warned of the fact. And this makes me wonder the more at your writing that there have been some who blamed me for reciting my orations at all — unless, indeed they think that these are the only compositions which’ need no correction. Of these people I should be glad to inquire why they admit (if, however, they do admit) that a history ought to be recited, which is composed, not with a view to display, but to fidelity and truth? Or why a tragedy, which requires, not a recitation chamber, but a stage and actors? Or why lyric poetry, which requires, not a reader, but the chorus and the lyre? “Oh, but the recitation of these kind of things is now a received usage.” Pray, then, is the person to be blamed who originated it? Though, by the way, orations too have often been read aloud both by our countrymen and by the Greeks. “At any rate, it is a work of supererogation to recite what you have already spoken.” Granted, if you recite exactly the same thing, to precisely the same people, without a moment’s delay. If, however, you make many additions and many changes, if you invite to hear you some fresh people, together with some of those who have heard you before (after an interval, however), why should your reasons for reading aloud what you have already spoken be less acceptable than for publishing the same? “But it is difficult for an oration to give satisfaction when recited.”
Well, but this is a point which concerns the pains taken by the reciter, not the reasons for not reciting. Nor, indeed, do I seek approval while reciting, but while being read. Consequently, I neglect no means of improvement.
First of all, I go carefully over what I have written by myself; next I read it to two or three people; then I hand it over to others to make their notes on it, and these notes, when in any doubt, I again ponder in company with one or other of them. Last of all, I recite to a larger audience, and, if you will believe me, then it is that I am keenest at correcting; for the ardour of my application is proportioned to my anxiety. Indeed, respect for one’s audience and a sense of diffidence are the best of critics. Take it in this way: are you not less perturbed if you are going to address some one person, who, however great his culture, is still a single individual, than if you are going to address a number of people, even though they be uncultured? Do you not, on rising to plead, mistrust yourself, particularly at that moment; at that moment desire, not merely that many things, but that everything in your speech could be changed? And that still more strongly if the scene be enlarged and the circle of hearers extended? For we look with apprehension even upon the common folk in their dusky attire. Are you not — if you fancy any part of your opening to be unfavourably received — at once discouraged and prostrated? I presume this is because, in numbers themselves, there is a certain weighty and collective judgment; and while each individual has but a small critical faculty, yet, taken altogether, they have a great deal. Hence Pomponius Secundus — he was a writer of tragedies — if there chanced to be any passage which one of his intimate friends thought of a nature to be left out, while he himself thought it should be retained, used to say, “I appeal to the public!” And accordingly, judging from the silence or the approval of the public, he followed either his own or his friend’s opinion. Such importance did he attach to this same public; rightly or wrongly, does not concern me; for it is not my custom to invite the public, but persons I am sure of and have selected, whom I can look at and trust, whom I can scrutinise singly, and stand in awe of collectively. For M. Cicero’s opinion about the pen I hold with regard to fear. Apprehension is the sharpest corrector. The very fact that we reflect we are about to recite acts as a corrector; our entrance into the audience-room, the act of growing pale, our shivering, our looking about us, all these are so many correctors. Consequently, I am not ashamed of my habit, which experience shows me to be a most useful one, and, so far from being deterred by these people’s tittle-tattle, I will go further, and ask you if you can tell me of anything to be added to all this. Nothing, indeed, will satisfy my precautions; for I reflect what an important matter it is to deliver anything into the hands of men; and I cannot persuade myself that it is not proper to revise often, and in the company of many, that which one desires should give pleasure at all times and to all people.
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18. C. PLINIUS CANINIO SUO S.
1 Deliberas mecum quemadmodum pecunia, quam municipibus nostris in epulum obtulisti, post te quoque salva sit. Honesta consultatio, non expedita sententia. Numeres rei publicae summam: verendum est ne dilabatur. Des agros: ut publici neglegentur. 2 Equidem nihil commodius invenio, quam quod ipse feci. Nam pro quingentis milibus nummum, quae in alimenta ingenuorum ingenuarumque promiseram, agrum ex meis longe pluris actori publico mancipavi; eundem vectigali imposito recepi, tricena milia annua daturus. 3 Per hoc enim et rei publicae sors in tuto nec reditus incertus, et ager ipse propter id quod vectigal large supercurrit, semper dominum a quo exerceatur inveniet. 4 Nec ignoro me plus aliquanto quam donasse videor erogavisse, cum pulcherrimi agri pretium necessitas vectigalis infregerit. 5 Sed oportet privatis utilitatibus publicas, mortalibus aeternas anteferre, multoque diligentius muneri suo consulere quam facultatibus. Vale.
18. — TO CANINIUS.
You ask my opinion in what way the money which you have offered to our townsfolk for an annual feast may be secured after your decease. While the inquiry does you honour, the decision is not an easy one. Suppose you pay the amount to the municipality? It is to be feared that it may be squandered. Suppose you give land? Being public land, it will be neglected. For my part, I can find nothing better than what I did myself. In lieu of five hundred thousand sesterces, which I had promised for the maintenance of free boys and girls, I made over to the agent of the public property some lands of mine of much greater value; these I had reconveyed to me on condition of paying thirty thousand sesterces annually as a rent-charge. In this way the capital of the municipality was made safe and the income was assured; the land itself, in consequence of there being a large margin over the rent-charge, will always find an owner to cultivate it. I am aware that this cost me something more than the amount of my nominal donation, as the lien of the rent-charge has diminished the selling price of a very handsome property. But one is bound to prefer public to private interests, those that are enduring to those that are mortal, and to be much more careful in securing one’s benefactions than one’s property.
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19. C. PLINIUS PRISCO SUO S.
1 Angit me Fanniae valetudo. Contraxit hanc dum assidet Iuniae virgini, sponte primum — est enim affinis -, deinde etiam ex auctoritate pontificum. 2 Nam virgines, cum vi morbi atrio Vestae coguntur excedere, matronarum curae custodiaeque mandantur. Quo munere Fannia dum sedulo fungitur, hoc discrimine implicita est. 3 Insident febres, tussis increscit; summa macies summa defectio. Animus tantum et spiritus viget Helvidio marito, Thrasea patre dignissimus; reliqua labuntur, meque non metu tantum, verum etiam dolore conficiunt. 4 Doleo enim feminam maximam eripi oculis civitatis, nescio an aliquid simile visuris. Quae castitas illi, quae sanctitas, quanta gravitas quanta constantia! Bis maritum secuta in exsilium est, tertio ipsa propter maritum relegata. 5 Nam cum Senecio reus esset quod de vita Helvidi libros composuisset rogatumque se a Fannia in defensione dixisset, quaerente minaciter Mettio Caro, an rogasset respondit: ‘Rogavi’; an commentarios scripturo dedisset: ‘Dedi’; an sciente matre: ‘Nesciente’; postremo nullam vocem cedentem periculo emisit. 6 Quin etiam illos ipsos libros, quamquam ex necessitate et metu temporum abolitos senatus consulto, publicatis bonis servavit habuit, tulitque in exsilium exsili causam. 7 Eadem quam iucunda quam comis, quam denique — quod paucis datum est — non minus amabilis quam veneranda! Eritne quam postea uxoribus nostris ostentare possimus? Erit a qua viri quoque fortitudinis exempla sumamus, quam sic cernentes audientesque miremur, ut illas quae leguntur? 8
Ac mihi domus ipsa nutare, convulsaque sedibus suis ruitura supra videtur, licet adhuc posteros habeat. Quantis enim virtutibus quantisque factis assequentur, ut haec non novissima occiderit? 9 Me quidem illud etiam affligit et torquet, quod matrem eius, illam — nihil possum illustrius dicere — tantae feminae matrem, rursus videor amittere, quam haec, ut reddit ac refert nobis, sic auferet secum, meque et novo pariter et rescisso vulnere afficiet. 10 Utramque colui utramque dilexi: utram magis nescio, nec discerni volebant. Habuerunt officia mea in secundis, habuerunt in adversis. Ego solacium relegatarum, ego ultor reversarum; non feci tamen paria atque eo magis hanc cupio servari, ut mihi solvendi tempora supersint. 11 In his eram curis, cum scriberem ad te; quas si deus aliquis in gaudium verterit, de metu non querar. Vale.
19. — TO PRISCUS.
The illness of Fannia torments me. She contracted it while nursing Junia the vestal virgin, originally of her own accord (indeed they are related), and subsequently being further commissioned to do so by the Pontifices; for the virgins, when compelled by violent disease to remove from the court of Vesta’s temple, are handed over to the care and custody of married ladies. While Fannia was carefully discharging the office in question, she became involved in this peril. The attacks of fever stick to her, her cough grows upon her, she is in the highest degree emaciated and enfeebled. Only her great soul and spirit — in every way worthy of her husband Helvidius and her father Thrasea — retain their vigour; all else is breaking up in such a way as to prostrate me not merely with apprehension, but with grief as well. Indeed, I do grieve that such an illustrious woman should be snatched from the gaze of the country, which may perhaps never look upon her like again. Oh, what purity was hers! what holiness of life! what nobility of character! what intrepidity of soul! Twice she followed her husband into exile, and a third time was herself banished on her husband’s account; for when Senecio was accused of having written certain publications on the life of Helvidius, and had said, in the course of his defence, that he had been requested to do so by Fannia, upon Mettius Cams asking her, in a menacing tone, “whether she had so requested him,” she replied, “I did make the request.”
“Had she furnished him with memoranda for the composition?”
“I did furnish him.”
“Was this with the knowledge of her mother?”
“Without her knowledge.” In short, not a word did she utter that quailed before the peril. Moreover, she preserved copies of these very publications after the confiscation of her property (though through the exigencies and the terror of that epoch they had been suppressed by a decree of the Senate), kept them, and carried into her exile the cause of her exile.
At the same time she is so pleasant, she is so friendly, and, in short — the privilege of but few — as lovable as she is venerable. Will there be any woman left whom we may hereafter point out to our wives? Will there be any one from whom we may take an example even of manly fortitude? whom, while we still see her and hear her, we may admire as we do the women one reads about? For my part, it seems to me as though her very house were tottering and about to fall torn from its foundations — and this though she still has descendants. For how great must be their virtues and how great their deeds in order to make it clear that she has not perished the last of her race! And there is this additional cause of affliction and torment for me, that I seem to be losing her mother over again — that mother of such a woman; what more illustrious name can I give her? — whom Fannia, as she resembles and recalls to us, so she will take away with her, afflicting me at one and the same time with a fresh and a re-opened wound. I frequented them both and cherished them both; which of them in a greater degree I know not, nor did they desire that a difference should be made. They had my services in prosperity and they had them in adversity. I was their consoler when they were banished and their avenger when they returned. Yet I did not fully acquit my debt to them, and for this reason am all the more anxious that Fannia should be spared in order that time may be left me for payment. Such are the cares amidst which I have written to you, and if any god shall turn them to joy, I will not complain of my fright.
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20. C. PLINIUS TACITO SUO S.
1 Librum tuum legi et, quam diligentissime potui, adnotavi quae commutanda, quae eximenda arbitrarer. Nam et ego verum dicere assuevi, et tu libenter audire. Neque enim ulli patientius reprehenduntur, quam qui maxime laudari merentur. 2 Nunc a te librum meum cum adnotationibus tuis exspecto. O iucundas, o pulchras vices! Quam me delectat quod, si qua posteris cura nostri, usquequaque narrabitur, qua concordia simplicitate fide vixerimus! 3 Erit rarum et insigne, duos homines aetate dignitate propemodum aequales, non nullius in litteris nominis — cogor enim de te quoque parcius dicere, quia de me simul dico -, alterum alterius studia fovisse. 4 Equidem adulescentulus, cum iam tu fama gloriaque floreres, te sequi, tibi ‘longo sed proximus intervallo’ et esse et haberi concupiscebam. Et erant multa clarissima ingenia; sed tu mihi — ita similitudo naturae ferebat — maxime imitabilis, maxime imitandus videbaris. 5 Quo magis gaudeo, quod si quis de studiis sermo, una nominamur, quod de te loquentibus statim occurro. Nec desunt qui utrique nostrum praeferantur. 6 Sed nos, nihil interest mea quo loco, iungimur; nam mihi primus, qui a te proximus. Quin etiam in testamentis debes adnotasse: nisi quis forte alterutri nostrum amicissimus, eadem legata et quidem pariter accipimus. 7 Quae omnia huc spectant, ut invicem ardentius diligamus, cum tot vinculis nos studia mores fama, suprema denique hominum iudicia constringant. Vale.
20. — TO TACITUS.
I have read your book, and have noted with all possible care what I thought ought to be altered and what left out. For not only is it my habit to tell the truth, but it is also yours to hear it willingly. Indeed, there are none who submit more patiently to correction than those who are most deserving of praise. And now, I am expecting from you my book with your notes. What a delightful and charming interchange! How it rejoices me that, should posterity take any heed of us at all, it will be universally related in what concord, with what sincerity and fidelity to each other, we lived. It will be a rare and memorable thing for two men pretty nearly equals in points of age and station, and not altogether without a name in literature (I am compelled, you see, to speak in somewhat scant terms of you as well, inasmuch as I am speaking of myself at the same time), each to have furthered the studies of the other. For my part, when I was but a stripling, while you were already flourishing in renown and glory, I yearned to follow after you — both to be accounted and to be “second to you, though great the space between.” Yet there were in existence many men of brilliant genius; nevertheless you seemed to me, owing to the similarity of our dispositions, to be the one most capable of being imitated, and most worthy of imitation. I the more rejoice then that, whenever the conversation turns on intellectual pursuits, we are named together, that to people speaking about you my name at once presents itself. Not but what there are some who are preferred to both of us. But it does not matter to me what place is assigned us, provided we are thus conjoined; for in my estimation to come next to you is to be before all the rest. Moreover, you must have noticed that in wills (unless a testator should happen to be especially intimate with one or the other of us) we receive the same bequests, and in each other’s company. All which goes to this, that our mutual affection should be the more ardent when so many are the bonds which constrain us by our studies, our characters, our reputations, and, finally, by the last dispositions of mankind.
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21. C. PLINIUS CORNUTO SUO S.
1 Pareo, collega carissime, et infirmitati oculorum ut iubes consulo. Nam et huc tecto vehiculo undique inclusus quasi in cubiculo perveni et hic non stilo modo verum etiam lectionibus difficulter sed abstineo, solisque auribus studeo. 2 Cubicula obductis velis opaca nec tamen obscura facio. Cryptoporticus quoque adopertis inferioribus fenestris tantum umbrae quantum luminis habet. Sic paulatim lucem ferre condisco. 3 Balineum assu
mo quia prodest, vinum quia non nocet, parcissime tamen. Ita assuevi, et nunc custos adest.
Delphi Complete Works of Pliny the Younger (Illustrated) (Delphi Ancient Classics) Page 114