Letters of Pliny
hard upon a man, and the more so because he has no opportunities of
repairing any injury done to his fortune. Remove then, I entreat you,
our uneasiness, and suffer me still to enjoy the pleasure of his wit and
bonhommie; for I cannot bear to see the cheerfulness of my friend over-
clouded, whose mirth and good humour dissipates every gloom of
melancholy in myself. In short, you know what a pleasant entertaining
fellow he is, and I hope you will not suffer any injury to engloom and
embitter his disposition. You may judge by the warmth of his affection
how severe his resentments would prove; for a generous and great mind
can ill brook an injury when coupled with contempt. But though he could
pass it over, yet cannot I: on the contrary, I shall regard it as a
wrong and indignity done to myself, and resent it as one offered to my
friend; that is, with double warmth. But, after all, why this air of
threatening? rather let me end in the same style in which I began,
namely, by begging, entreating you so to act in this affair that neither
Attilius may have reason to imagine (which I am exceedingly anxious he
should not) that I neglect his interest, nor that I may have occasion to
charge you with carelessness of mine: as undoubtedly I shall not if you
have the same regard for the latter as I have for the former. Farewell.
LXII -- To ALBINUS
I WAS lately at Alsium,[90] where my mother-in-law has a villa which
once belonged to Verginius Rufus. The place renewed in my mind the
sorrowful remembrance of that-great and excellent man. He was extremely
fond of this retirement, and used to call it the nest of his old age.
Whichever way I looked, I missed him, I felt his absence. I had an
inclination to visit his monument; but I repented having seen it,
afterwards: for I found it still unfinished, and this, not from any
difficulty residing in the work itself, for it is very plain, or rather
indeed slight; but through the neglect of him to whose care it was
entrusted. I could not see without a concern, mixed with indignation,
the remains of a man, whose fame filled the whole world, lie for ten
years after his death without an inscription, or a name. He had however
directed that the divine and immortal action of his life should be
recorded upon his tomb in the following lines:
"Here Rufus lies, who Vindex' arms withstood, Not for himself, but for
his country's good."
But faithful friends are so rare, and the dead so soon forgotten, that
we shall be obliged ourselves to build even our very tombs, and
anticipate the office of our heirs. For who is there that has no reason
to fear for himself what we see has happened to Verginius, whose
eminence and distinction, while rendering such treatment more shameful,
so, in the same way, make it more notorious? Farewell.
LXIII -- To MAXIMUS
O WHAT a happy day I lately spent! I was called by the prefect of Rome,
to assist him in a certain case, and had the pleasure of hearing two
excellent young men, Fuscus Salinator and Numidius Quadratus, plead on
the opposite sides: their worth is equal, and each of them will one day,
I am persuaded, prove an ornament not only to the present age, but to
literature itself. They evinced upon this occasion an admirable probity,
supported by inflexible courage: their dress was decent, their elocution
distinct, their tones were manly, their memory retentive, their genius
elevated, and guided by an equal solidity of judgment. I took infinite
pleasure in observing them display these noble qualities; particularly
as I had the satisfaction to see that, while they looked upon me as
their guide and model, they appeared to the audience as my imitators and
rivals. It was a day (I cannot but repeat it again) which afforded me
the most exquisite happiness, and which I shall ever distinguish with
the fairest mark. For what indeed could be either more pleasing to me on
the public account than to observe two such noble youths building their
fame and glory upon the polite arts; or more desirable upon my own than
to be marked out as a worthy example to them in their pursuits of
virtue? May the gods still grant me the continuance of that pleasure!
And I implore the same gods, you are my witness, to make all these who
think me deserving of imitation far better than I am, Farewell.
LXIV -- To ROMANUS
You were not present at a very singular occurrence here lately: neither
was I, but the story reached me just after it had happened. Passienus
Paulus, a Roman knight, of good family, and a man of peculiar learning
and culture besides, composes elegies, a talent which runs in the
family, for Propertius is reckoned by him amongst his ancestors, as well
as being his countryman. He was lately reciting a poem which began thus:
"Priscus, at thy command"--
Whereupon Javolenus Priscus, who happened to be present as a particular
friend of the poet's, cried out--"But he is mistaken, I did not command
him." Think what laughter and merriment this occasioned. Priscus's wits,
you must know, are reckoned rather unsound,[91] though he takes a share
in public business, is summoned to consultations, and even publicly acts
as a lawyer, so that this behaviour of his was the more remarkable and
ridiculous: meanwhile Paulus was a good deal disconcerted by his
friend's absurdity. You see how necessary it is for those who are
anxious to recite their works in public to take care that the audience
as well as the author are perfectly sane. Farewell.
LXV -- To TACITUS
YOUR request that I would send you an account of my uncle's death, in
order to transmit a more exact relation of it to posterity, deserves my
acknowledgments; for, if this accident shall be celebrated by your pen,
the glory of it, I am well assured, will be rendered forever
illustrious. And notwithstanding he perished by a misfortune, which, as
it involved at the same time a most beautiful country in ruins, and
destroyed so many populous cities, seems to promise him an everlasting
remembrance; notwithstanding he has himself composed many and lasting
works; yet I am persuaded, the mentioning of him in your immortal
writings, will greatly contribute to render his name immortal. Happy I
esteem those to be to whom by provision of the gods has been granted the
ability either to do such actions as are worthy of being related or to
relate them in a manner worthy of being read; but peculiarly happy are
they who are blessed with both these uncommon talents: in the number of
which my uncle, as his own writings and your history will evidently
prove, may justly be ranked. It is with extreme willingness, therefore,
that I execute your commands; and should indeed have claimed the task if
you had not enjoined it. He was at that time with the fleet under his
command at Misenum.[92] On the 24th of August, about one in the
afternoon, my mother desired him to observe a cloud which appeared of a
very unusual size and shape. He had just taken a turn in the sun[93]
and, after bathing himself in cold water, and making a light luncheon,
gone back to his books: he immediately arose and went out upon a rising
ground from whence he might get a better sight of this very uncommon
appearance. A cloud, from which mountain was uncertain, at this distance
(but it was found afterwards to come from Mount Vesuvius), was
ascending, the appearance of which I cannot give you a more exact
description of than by likening it to that of a pine tree, for it shot
up to a great height in the form of a very tall trunk, which spread
itself out at the top into a sort of branches; occasioned, I imagine,
either by a sudden gust of air that impelled it, the force of which
decreased as it advanced upwards, or the cloud itself being pressed back
again by its own weight, expanded in the manner I have mentioned; it
appeared sometimes bright and sometimes dark and spotted, according as
it was either more or less impregnated with earth and cinders. This
phenomenon seemed to a man of such learning and research as my uncle
extraordinary and worth further looking into. He ordered a light vessel
to be got ready, and gave me leave, if I liked, to accompany him. I said
I had rather go on with my work; and it so happened, he had himself
given me something to write out. As he was coming out of the house, he
received a note from Rectina, the wife of Bassus, who was in the utmost
alarm at the imminent danger which threatened her; for her villa lying
at the foot of Mount Vesuvius, there was no way of escape but by sea;
she earnestly entreated him therefore to come to her assistance. He
accordingly changed his first intention, and what he had begun from a
philosophical, he now carries out in a noble and generous spirit. He
ordered the galleys to be put to sea, and went himself on board with an
intention of assisting not only Rectina, but the several other towns
which lay thickly strewn along that beautiful coast. Hastening then to
the place from whence others fled with the utmost terror, he steered his
course direct to the point of danger, and with so much calmness and
presence of mind as to be able to make and dictate his observations upon
the motion and all the phenomena of that dreadful scene. He was now so
close to the mountain that the cinders, which grew thicker and hotter
the nearer he approached, fell into the ships, together with pumice-
stones, and black pieces of burning rock: they were in danger too not
only of being aground by the sudden retreat of the sea, but also from
the vast fragments which rolled down from the mountain, and obstructed
all the shore. Here he stopped to consider whether he should turn back
again; to which the pilot advising him, "Fortune," said he, "favours the
brave; steer to where Pomponianus is." Pomponianus was then at
Stabiae,[94] separated by a bay, which the sea, after several insensible
windings, forms with the shore. He had already sent his baggage on
board; for though he was not at that time in actual danger, yet being
within sight of it, and indeed extremely near, if it should in the least
increase, he was determined to put to sea as soon as the wind, which was
blowing dead in-shore, should go down. It was favourable, however, for
carrying my uncle to Pomponianus, whom he found in the greatest
consternation: he embraced him tenderly, encouraging and urging him to
keep up his spirits, and, the more effectually to soothe his fears by
seeming unconcerned himself, ordered a bath to be got ready, and then,
after having bathed, sat down to supper with great cheerfulness, or at
least (what is just as heroic) with every appearance of it. Meanwhile
broad flames shone out in several places from Mount Vesuvius, which the
darkness of the night contributed to render still brighter and clearer.
But my uncle, in order to soothe the apprehensions of his friend,
assured him it was only the burning of the villages, which the country
people had abandoned to the flames: after this he retired to rest, and
it is most certain he was so little disquieted as to fall into a sound
sleep: for his breathing, which, on account of his corpulence, was
rather heavy and sonorous, was heard by the attendants outside. The
court which led to his apartment being now almost filled with stones and
ashes, if he had continued there any time longer, it would have been
impossible for him to have made his way out. So he was awoke and got up,
and went to Pomponianus and the rest of his company, who were feeling
too anxious to think of going to bed. They consulted together whether it
would be most prudent to trust to the houses, which now rocked from side
to side with frequent and violent concussions as though shaken from
their very foundations; or fly to the open fields, where the calcined
stones and cinders, though light indeed, yet fell in large showers, and