Letters of Pliny
brother's daughter, but was also accessory to her death: for that lady,
being a widow, in order to conceal her shame, endeavoured to procure an
abortion, and by that means lost her life. However, the priests were
directed to see the sentence immediately executed upon Cornelia. As they
were leading her to the place of execution, she called upon Vesta, and
the rest of the gods, to attest her innocence; and, amongst other
exclamations, frequently cried out, "Is it possible that Cæsar can think
me polluted, under the influence of whose sacred functions he has
conquered and triumphed?"[69] Whether she said this in flattery or
derision; whether it proceeded from a consciousness of her innocence, or
contempt of the emperor, is uncertain; but she continued exclaiming in
this manner, till she came to the place of execution, to which she was
led, whether innocent or guilty I cannot say, at all events with every
appearance and demonstration of innocence. As she was being lowered down
into the subterranean vault, her robe happening to catch upon something
in the descent, she turned round and disengaged it, when, the
executioner offering his assistance, she drew herself back with horror,
refusing to be so much as touched by him, as though it were a defilement
to her pure and unspotted chastity: still preserving the appearance of
sanctity up to the last moment; and, among all the other instances of
her modesty,
"She took great care to fall with decency."<a href="#linknote-70"
name="linknoteref-70" id="linknoteref-70">[70]</a>
Celer likewise, a Roman knight, who was accused of an intrigue with her,
while they were scourging him with rods[71] in the Forum, persisted in
exclaiming, "What have I done?--I have done nothing." These declarations
of innocence had exasperated Domitian exceedingly, as imputing to him
acts of cruelty and injustice, accordingly Licinianus being seized by
the emperor's orders for having concealed a freedwoman of Cornelia's in
one of his estates, was advised, by those who took him in charge, to
confess the fact, if he hoped to obtain a remission of his punishment,
circumstance to add further, that a young nobleman, having had his tunic
torn, an ordinary occurrence in a crowd, stood with his gown thrown over
him, to hear me, and that during the seven hours I was speaking, whilst
my success more than counterbalanced the fatigue of so long a speech. So
let us set to and not screen our own indolence under pretence of that of
the public. Never, be very sure of that, will there be wanting hearers
and readers, so long as we can only supply them with speakers and
writers worth their attention. Farewell.
XLV -- To ASINIUS
You advise me, nay you entreat me, to undertake, in her absence, the
cause of Corellia, against C. Caecilius, consul elect. For your advice I
am grateful, of your entreaty I really must complain; without the first,
indeed, I should have been ignorant of this affair, but the last was
unnecessary, as I need no solicitations to comply, where it would be
ungenerous in me to refuse; for can I hesitate a moment to take upon
myself the protection of a daughter of Corellius? It is true, indeed,
though there is no particular intimacy between her adversary and myself,
still we are upon good enough terms. It is also true that he is a person
of rank, and one who has a high claim upon my especial regard, as
destined to enter upon an office which I have had the honour to fill;
and it is natural for a man to be desirous those dignities should be
held in the highest esteem which he himself once possessed. Yet all
these considerations appear indifferent and trifling when I reflect that
it is the daughter of Corellius whom I am to defend. The memory of that
excellent person, than whom this age has not produced a man of greater
dignity, rectitude, and acuteness, is indelibly imprinted upon my mind.
My regard for him sprang from my admiration of the man, and contrary to
what is usually the case, my admiration increased upon a thorough
knowledge of him, and indeed I did know him thoroughly, for he kept
nothing back from me, whether gay or serious, sad or joyous. When he was
but a youth, he esteemed, and (I will even venture to say) revered, me
as if I had been his equal. When I solicited any post of honour, he
supported me with his interest, and recommended me with his testimony;
when I entered upon it, he was my introducer and my companion; when I
exercised it, he was my guide and my counsellor. In a word, whenever my
interest was concerned, he exerted himself, in spite of his weakness and
declining years, with as much alacrity as though he were still young and
lusty. In private, in public, and at court, how often has he advanced
and supported my credit and interest! It happened once that the
conversation, in the presence of the emperor Nerva, turned upon the
promising young men of that time, and several of the company present
were pleased to mention me with applause; he sat for a little while
silent, which gave what he said the greater weight; and then, with that
air of dignity, to which you are no stranger, "I must be reserved," said
he, "in my praises of Pliny, because he does nothing without advice." By
which single sentence he bestowed upon me more than my most extravagant
wishes could aspire to, as he represented my conduct to be always such
as wisdom must approve, since it was wholly under the direction of one
of the wisest of men. Even in his last moments he said to his daughter
(as she often mentions), "I have in the course of a long life raised up
many friends to you, but there are none in whom you may more assuredly
confide than Pliny and Cornutus." A circumstance I cannot reflect upon
without being deeply sensible how incumbent it is upon me to endeavour
not to disappoint the confidence so excellent a judge of human nature
reposed in me. I shall therefore most readily give my assistance to
Corellia in this affair, and willingly risk any displeasure I may incur
by appearing in her behalf. Though I should imagine, if in the course of
my pleadings I should find an opportunity to explain and enforce more
fully and at large than the limits of a letter allow of the reasons I
have here mentioned, upon which I rest at once my apology and my glory;
her adversary (whose suit may perhaps, as you say, be entirely without
precedent, as it is against a woman) will not only excuse, but approve,
my conduct. Farewell.
XLVI -- To HISPULLA
As you are a model of all virtue, and loved your late excellent brother,
who had such a fondness for you, with an affection equal to his own;
regarding too his daughter[72] as your child, not only shewing her an
aunt's tenderness but supplying the place of the parent she had lost; I
know it will give you the greatest pleasure and joy to hear that she
proves worthy of her father, her grandfather, and yourself. She
possesses an excellent understanding together with a consummate
prudence, and gives the strongest evidence of the purity of her heart by
her fondness of her husband. Her affection for me, moreover, has given
her a taste for books, and my productions, which she takes a pleasure in
reading, and even in getting by heart, are continually in her hands. How
full of tender anxiety is she when I am going to speak in any case, how
rejoiced she feels when it is got through. While I am pleading, she
stations persons to inform her from time to time how I am heard, what
applauses I receive, and what success attends the case. When I recite my
works at any time, she conceals herself behind some curtain, and drinks
in my praises with greedy ears. She sings my verses too, adapting them
to her lyre, with no other master but love, that best of instructors,
for her guide. From these happy circumstances I derive my surest hopes,
that the harmony between us will increase with our days, and be as
lasting as our lives. For it is not my youth or person, which time
gradually impairs; it is my honour and glory that she cares for. But
what less could be expected from one who was trained by your hands, and
formed by your instructions; who was early familiarized under your roof
with all that is pure and virtuous, and who learnt to love me first
through your praises? And as you revered my mother with all the respect
due even to a parent, so you kindly directed and encouraged my tender
years, presaging from that early period all that my wife now fondly
imagines I really am. Accept therefore of our mutual thanks, mine, for
your giving me her, hers for your giving her me; for you have chosen us
out, as it were, for each other. Farewell.
XLVII -- To ROMATIUS FIASIUS
Look here! The next time the court sits, you must, at all events, take
your place there. In vain would your indolence repose itself under my
protection, for there is no absenting oneself with impunity. Look at
that severe, determined, praetor, Licinius Nepos, who fined even a
senator for the same neglect! The senator pleaded his cause in person,
but in suppliant tone. The fine, it is true, was remitted, but sore was
his dismay, humble his intercession, and he had to ask pardon. "All
praetors are not so severe as that," you will reply; you are mistaken --
for though indeed to be the author and reviver of an example of this
kind may be an act of severity, yet, once introduced, even lenity
herself may follow the precedent. Farewell.
XLVIII -- To LICINIUS SURA
I HAVE brought you as a little present out of the country a query which
well deserves the consideration of your extensive knowledge. There is a
spring which rises in a neighbouring mountain, and running among the
rocks is received into a little banqueting-room, artificially formed for
that purpose, from whence, after being detained a short time, it falls
into the Larian lake. The nature of this spring is extremely curious; it
ebbs and flows regularly three times a day. The increase and decrease is
plainly visible, and exceedingly interesting to observe. You sit down by
the side of the fountain, and while you are taking a repast and drinking
its water, which is extremely cool, you see it gradually rise and fall.
If you place a ring, or anything else at the bottom, when it is dry, the
water creeps gradually up, first gently washing, finally covering it
entirely, and then little by little subsides again. If you wait long
enough, you may see it thus alternately advance and recede three
successive times. Shall we say that some secret current of air stops and
opens the fountain-head, first rushing in and checking the flow and
then, driven back by the counter-resistance of the water, escaping
again; as we see in bottles, and other vessels of that nature, where,
there not being a free and open passage, though you turn their necks
perpendicularly or obliquely downwards, yet, the outward air obstructing
the vent, they discharge their contents as it were by starts? Or, may
not this small collection of water be successively contracted and
enlarged upon the same principle as the ebb and flow of the sea? Or,
again, as those rivers which discharge themselves into the sea, meeting
with contrary winds and the swell of the ocean, are forced back in their
channels, so, in the same way, may there not be something that checks
this fountain, for a time, in its progress? Or is there rather a certain
reservoir that contains these waters in the bowels of the earth, and
while it is recruiting its discharges, the stream in consequence flows
more slowly and in less quantity, but, when it has collected its due
measure, runs on again in its usual strength and fulness? Or lastly, is
there I know not what kind of subterranean counterpoise, that throws up
the water when the fountain is dry, and keeps it back when it is full?