Pliny's Epistles In Ten Books Part 6

by the Same. [Mr. Henley] An Admonition to come to the Court. HEARK you, Friend, when the next Cause is try'd, by all means come into Court: You can place no Confidence in my excusing you; and must not think to play the Truant with impunity. I vow, Licinius Nepos, the Prtor, a man of Resolution and Courage, denounc'd a Fine upon a Senator himself. He pleaded his own Cause in the Senate, and manag'd it so, as to obtain a Pardon. The Mulct was remitted, but he was in Fear; he Pet.i.tion'd; there was a Necessity of a Pardon. You will say, all Prtors are not so severe. You are in the wrong. For to introduce, or revive, such a Precedent, can be only the Part of a severe Man; but as to the putting in Execution one that it set on Foot or restor'd, the mildest in the World may be capable of it.

Farewell.

Epistle x.x.x. To Licinius.

by the Same. [Mr. Henley] On a wonderful Spring at Comum. INstead of a Present from my Country, I have brought you a Question, very worthy of your profound Learning. I have a Spring, that takes its Rise upon a Hill, flows down a stony Gutter, and is receiv'd in a little Parlour, made by Art: After it has made a short stay there, it falls into the Larian Lake. The Nature of it is surprising. It ebbs and flows thrice a Day, with a regular Flux and Reflux. This is plainly observ'd, and look'd upon with great Pleasure. You may lie along on the Bank of it, and ear, and drink of the Spring Water, which is extremely cool and refres.h.i.+ng: In the mean Time, it retires, or swells up at certain measur'd Periods of Time. If you lay a Ring or any thing else, on the dry Bank, a Wash will come upon it by Degrees, and at last cover it: Then it appears again, and in a short Time, is forsaken by the Water. If you stay longer to make your Observation, you may view both these Appearances, again, or a third Time. Does some conceal'd Breath of Air of Wind, now expand, now shut the Mouth and Jaws of the Spring, as it is let in by Illation, or departs by Expulsion; as you find in Bottles and other Vessels of the same kind, where the Mouth is something close, or narrow; for they, though plac'd with the Neck downwards and declining, yet check what they discharge by repeated Gurglings; as it were, with certain Stops of a resisting Wind. Or has this Spring the same Nature as the Sea? And as that is carry'd forward, or withdrawn, in the same Manner, this small Ma.s.s of Water is repress'd or ejected by Turns? Or, as Rivers, which are convey'd down to the Sea, are flung back by adverse Winds, or an opposing Tide, so there is some Cause that returns the Issuing of this Fountain, at settled Points of Time. Or is there a certain Machine in the secret Veins of it, which makes the Rivulet lesser and slower, while it collects what is spent, and more active and full, when it has gather'd it? Or is there an unaccountable Poize, secret and Mysterious, that works up, and plays the Water, when the Scale is emptied, and detains and choaks it up when it is full? Do you search the Causes, (for you are equal to it) that create so great a Miracle; it is sufficient for me, if I have clearly enough describ'd the State and Effect of it.

Farewell.

Pliny's Epistles. Book V.

Epistle I. To Severus.

by Mr. Henley. On a Legacy that was left him. A Small Legacy, but one that is more acceptable than the largest, has fallen to me. Why preferable to the Greatest, you will say? Pomponia Gratilla, having disinherited her Son, a.s.sudius Curia.n.u.s, left me her Heir, and appointed for Coheirs, Sortorius Severus, of Prtorian Dignity, and other Roman Knights of Distinction. Her Son, Curia.n.u.s, desir'd me to give him my Part, and help him out by so favourable a Precedent; and by a secret Agreement, engag'd it should still be secure to me. I answer'd, that is was not agreeable to my way of acting, to do one Thing openly, and another under-hand: Besides, that it did not carry a good Face, to give to one that was Rich, and had no Family: In short; that I should do him no Service, if I gave it him, as a Donation, but should, if I yielded it up to him as a Right; which I was ready to come into, if it appear'd, that he was unjustly disinherited. To this he reply'd, I would beg the Favour of you to examine the Matter. After a little Pause, I told him, that I would consider it: For, (continu'd I) I do not see why I should think less of my self, than I appear to you. But remember at the same Time, that I shall not want courage, if I find it turn in Favour of your Mother. As you please, said he, for you will please to do no more than what is very right and equitable. I consulted two, the most approv'd Men at that Time in Town, Corellius and Frontinus. With these about me, I sate down in my Chamber. Curia.n.u.s spoke what he thought made for him. I answer'd, briefly; (None else being in Company to defend the Reputation of the deceas'd) then withdrew, and by the Opinion of my Council, said; Curia.n.u.s, it seems your Mother has been displeas'd with you upon just Reasons. After this, he subscrib'd a Hearing before the Centumviri with the others, and not with me. The Court Day drew on; my Partners in the Devise were inclin'd to compound and transact the Affair between all; not in a diffidence of the Cause, but in a Fear of the Times. They were afraid, that the Judgment of the Centumviri should be Capital upon them, as they knew it has happen'd in many other Cases; and there were some among them, to whom the Friends.h.i.+p of Gratilla and Rusticus might be made an Objection; they desir'd me to talk with Curia.n.u.s. We met in the Temple of concord; there I urg'd, if your Mother had left you Heir to a fourth Part, could you have complain'd? What if you had been made compleat Heir, but so enc.u.mber'd with Legacies, that you would have possess'd no more than a fourth, in Remainder? Therefore you ought to be satisfy'd, if, as you are disinherited by your Mother, you receive a fourth Part from her Heirs, which notwithstanding, I will augment. You know you have not indicted me before the Centumvirate, and that it is now two Years, since I have enjoy'd the Use and Possession of all; but that my Partners may find you more tractable, and you may be no Loser by your Respect for me, I offer you as much for my Particular. I reap'd the Advantage, not only of a clear conscience in this Matter, but of a good Character. Therefore this same Curia.n.u.s left me a Legacy; and distinguish'd this Action of mine (unless I flatter my self) with that conspicuous Honour, that has been so much us'd by the Antients. I send you this Account, because I converse with you upon all Subjects that either delight or trouble me, with the same Freedom, as I do with my self; and I thought it hard to defraud you, who are so great a Friend, of the Pleasure I my self receiv'd. For I am not so much a Philosopher, as to have no Concern, whether or no the honourable Steps I think I take, be crown'd with any Approbation or Reward.

Farewell.

Epistle II. To Flaccus.

by the Same. [Mr. Henley.] On a Present. YOUR fine Present of Thrushes I receiv'd; which I cannot match by any Stores I can raise from my Laurentine Villa, or from the Sea, in so rough and stormy a Course of Weather. My Letter will therefore wait upon you barren, and plainly ungrateful; and not so much as imitating the craft of Diomedes, in the Exchange of a Gift. But you will be so Good-natur'd, as to pardon it the more readily, as by its own Confession it is void of Merit.

Farewell.

Epistle III. To Aristo.

by B.G. Esq; On some of his own Writings. AS all your good Offices are both agreeable and obliging, so this especially, that you did not conceal from me, that my Verses had been the Subject of much Conversation, at your House, and that drawn to a great Length by the Difference of Opinions: That there were some, who did not find Fault, with what were wrote but in a friendly and well-meaning way with me, that I should write and repeat such: With whom, to encrease my Fault, I own, I sometimes write Verses, none of the gravest. I make Comedies, I both hear and see Mimicks, I read Lyricks, and I relish Satyr; besides, I laugh, joke, and am merry; and to confess, I indulge all innocent Relaxations, I am Man. Nor am I concern'd, that those (who are ignorant that the most learned, the wisest and best of Men, have wrote such) should entertain such an Opinion of my Manners, as to wonder that I do. But from those, who know what, and how great Authors I follow, I am satisfy'd I shall easily have leave to err: since it is in Company, whose Light as well as serious works, it is a Credit to copy after. To avoid the Suspicion of Flattery, I will name no Body living; but shall, I fear, that will be indecent in me, that became M. Tully, C. Calvus, A. Pollio, M. Messala, Q. Hortensius, M. Brutus, L. Sulla, Q. Catullus, Q. Scvola, Ser. Sulpitius, Varro, Torquatus, all the Torquati, Memmicus, Lentulus, Gtulicus, Annus Seneca, Luceius, and in fine, Virginius Rufus, and if private Examples will not justify, Julius Csar, Augustus, Nerva, T. Csar, for of Nero I say nothing, tho' I know Things do not lose their Value, that are sometimes the Works of bad, but maintain their Credit, as they have more often the Authority of good Men. Among whom, the most remarkable are P. Virgilius, C. Nepos, Ennius, and Accius, who shou'd have been first mentioned: These, indeed, were not Senators, but Sanct.i.ty of Manners little differs from Honour. I own I repent my Writings; whether they did theirs or not, I cannot tell, they might rely on their own Judgment, I have too modest an Opinion of my self, to think any Performance of mine perfect, that has only my Approbation. These, therefore are my Reasons for repeating; First, that he who repeats, is, in Respect to the Auditors, more careful in his Composition: then, what he is doubtful of, he fixes as upon an Opinion given; he is admonish'd of many Things by many; and if he is not so admonish'd, as to know what every one thinks, yet he perceives by their countenance their Eyes, their Nod, the Motion of their Hands, the Murmur, their Silence, which by sufficient Signs distinguish Opinion from good Will, and that in such a Manner, that if any present, have a Desire to read the same, he will easily find me to have chang'd and left out many Things, and perhaps from the Judgment he made, tho' he said nothing to me. And these Things I thus argue, as if I had call'd the People to the Audience, not my Friends in private, of whom, to have many, has been an Honour to all, was never a Discredit to any.

Epistle IV. To Valeria.n.u.s.

by Mr. Henley. On a Prevarication of Thuscillus Nominatus. WE have met with a small Affair here, tho' the Occasion of it was not so inconsiderable. Sollers a Person of Prtorian Rank, pet.i.tion'd the Senate for a Ninth-day Market in the Country, upon his Estate. The Agents of the Vicentini oppos'd it; Thuscillus Nominatus was their Advocate: The Cause was adjourn'd. At the other Hearing before the Senate, the Deputies of Vicenza came in without any Advocate; they affirm'd they were deceiv'd: It is doubtful whether they spoke it inconsiderately, of from their real Sentiments. When they were ask'd by Nepos the Prtor, whom they had employ'd in their Cause? They answer'd, the same they us'd before. On the Question, Whether he then appear'd Gratuitously? They answer'd, for a Fee of 6000 Sesterces: When it was enquir'd, Whether they had given him a second Consideration? They reply'd, a Thousand Deniers. Nepos insisted upon it, that Nominatus should be summon'd before the House: So far they proceeded that Day; but as far as I can conjecture, the Matter will be carried farther. For a variety of Things, that at first are closely manag'd, and only move upon a very small Hinge, spread to a wider Compa.s.s. I have awaken'd your Attention, as long as it is convenient for the present: You may with much Civility desire to know the rest; if you do not take a turn to Rome on this singe account, and chuse rather to be a Spectator than a Reader.

Epistle V. To Maximus.

by the Same. [Mr. Henley.] On the Death of Fannius. I Am told, that Caius Fannius is dead; a piece of News that has given me much regret: In the first Place, because I knew the Man to be a Master of an elegant Taste, and of the Art of Speaking; and in the next, because I frequently made use of his Judgment: For he was by Nature penetrating, in Application a.s.siduous, in variety of Knowledge and Affairs, extremely ready. Besides all this, I am concern'd at the Circ.u.mstances of his Death. When he expir'd, he left a Will, that was made long ago; he omitted those he set the highest Value upon; and consider'd such Men, as had been most obnoxious to him. But this, however, may be supported; another Thing is less tolerable, that he has left a beautiful Work behind him unfinish'd. For though he has taken up with the Affairs of the Bar, yet he wrote a History of the Fate of those, who had been put to Death, or banish'd by Nero; and had already perfected three Books, remarkable for acuteness of Wit, Care, and a just Latin Style; and of a middle Character between the Orator and the Historian. And he was the more desirous to perfect the rest, as these were the more in Vogue. But I always look upon the Death of those who are preparing some immortal Work, as severe and immature. For they who are abandon'd to Pleasure, and live no more than a short Day-light, are daily undeserving of Life; but they, who think of Posterity, and extend their Memory by their Actions, must at any time die suddenly, because they will always interrupt something that has been undertaken. Indeed Caius Fannius was previously sensible of what happen'd, long before. As he slept one Night, he dreamt that he lay in his Bed, in a studying Dress, and that as usual, he had a Book-Case before him; soon after he imagin'd that Nero came in, and sate upon the Bed, took out the first Book he had publish'd about his Misconduct, and turn'd it over from one end to the other; that he did the same a second and third time, and then retir'd. He was terrify'd at it, and put this Interpretation upon it, as if he was to make the same end of his Writing, that he made of Reading; and this precisely happen'd. When I reflect upon this, I think with Pity, what Care and Labour he employ'd in vain; I recollect my own Mortality, and my own Writings: And I doubt not, but you are alarm'd with the same Apprehension for the Works you have in Hand. Therefore, while Life continues, let us make it our Endeavour, that Death may find as few Undertakings to destroy, as possible.

Farewell.

Epistle VI. To Apollinaris.

by the Same. [Mr. Henley.] On his Tuscan Villa. I Was pleas'd with your Concern and Sollicitude, that when you heard I design'd to retreat among my Tuscan Neighbours in Summer, you persuaded me to the contrary, from an Opinion that the Place is unwholsome. Indeed the Tuscan Coast, that lies along the Seaside, is inconvenient and pernicious to Health: But this Quarter is remote from the Sea; besides, it lies under the Apennine Hills, which are the most Healthful in the World; and therefore, that you may dismiss all your Fears on my Account, mind the Temper of the Air, the Situation of the country, the Delightfulness of the Villa; all which you will find an Entertainment in hearing, as I shall in the Relation.

The Air, in Winter time, is Cold and Frosty. The Soil will not favour the Myrtle, the Olive, and other Plants, that love a constant Warmth; yet it bears the Laurel, and produces it extremely Green. Sometimes it kills it, but not more frequently than is usual about the Town. The Summer is extremely favourable; it is always moving with a gentle Breeze, yet has more often an easie breathing Air, than a Wind. Hence it is, that you may here observe a great Number of Men in Years, that are Grand-fathers of many, now in their Youth. You may hear the Old Stories and Talk of our Fore-fathers, and when once you come hither, you would fancy your self in another Age. The Form of the Country is very fine. Imagine some vast Amphitheatre, and such a one, as Nature alone can make. A wide extended Plain is environ'd with Mountains, which are planted with tall and aged Groves of Trees on the Top of them. The Game there for Hunting, is plentiful and various; from thence, as the Mountains falls, there is a Descent of Copices: Among these are fruitful Eminencies of Ground, (for you seldom meet with a rocky Part, tho' you look for it;) that are not inferior to the Plains in Fertility, and mature a rich Harvest, something late indeed, but as perfectly. Under these, Vineyards are spread, all over the Side of them, and by their Texture, create one Face all about them: At the End, and Bottom of them, Shrubs grow up in a kind of Border; and after them you have Meadows and open Fields, that are not to be broken up by any Oxen, but those of the largest Size, and by the strongest Ploughs. The Soil being very close and tenacious, when it is first cut, rises in so great Ma.s.ses of Earth, that it is not subdu'd entirely, 'till the ninth Furrow. The Meadows are flowry and blooming; they produce the Trefoil and other kinds of Herbage, always tender and soft, and as it were, newly springing. For all of them are nourish'd by a constant supply of Water, and Rivulets. But where the Water abounds in greatest Plenty, there is no Marshy Ground, for the Declivity of the Land carries off the Moisture it receives, and does not imbibe, into the Tyber. That River divides the Ground in the Center; it is navigable, and conveys all sorts of Grain to the City, but only in Winter, and the Spring; in Summer it is low, and loses the Name of a Capacious River by the driness of its Channel, but recovers it in Autumn. You will be extremely pleas'd in taking this Prospect of the Country from a Mountain: For you will not imagine, that you view a Spot of Ground, but a Landschape excellently painted; the Eye is refresh'd with that Variety, with that exact Delineation, wherever it falls. The Villa it self, plac'd at the Foot of a Hill, enjoys a View, as if it were on the Brow of it; and rises so gently, so gradually, with an Ascent, that deceives you as you mount, that when you do not think you are going up the Side of it, you are sensible you have ascended. Behind, at some Distance, is the Apennine Mountain. From that it receives a Gale of Air, however calm or still the Day proves, yet not the violent or immoderate, but spent and broken by the very Interval. A great Part of it looks to the South, and as it were, invites the Sun, at Six in Summer, and in Winter something earlier, into a Gallery, that is large, and long in Proportion. There are several Lodgings and Apartments in it; the Court is after the manner of the Antients. Before the Gallery you have a Parterre, cut in a Variety of Shapes, and distinguish'd with Rows of Box, facing one another: Lower is a Spot cover'd with Bear's-foot, so soft to the Tread, that the Foot is hardly sensible of it.

This Spot is enclos'd with a Walk, set round with Greens, close and differently cut: After this, is an Alley, turning in Form of a Circle, within which you have Box-Trees variously figur'd, and small Trees, kept low by Care. All this is fenc'd by a Wall cover'd by several Stages of Box, and conceal'd from the Eye. On the other side is a Meadow, as pleasing by Nature, as what I have mention'd is by Art; and further on, you have open Fields, and several other Pasture-Grounds, and Knots of little Trees. At the Head of the Gallery is a Dining-Room; the Door of it fronts the Extremity of the Parterre, and the Windows view the Meadow, and a large Tract of the Country. This way, a side of the Gallery looks to that Part of the Villa, which advances forward; and to the Groves and Heads of Trees, in the Riding-Place near it. On one Side of the Gallery, towards the middle, there is an Apartment, something retiring backward, that surrounds a little Court, shaded with four Plane-Trees. In the midst of these is a Bason of Marble, and the Water that is pour'd from it affords a Refreshment to the Plane-Trees about, and the Gra.s.s that grows under them, by a gentle sprinkling. In this Apartment is a Bed-Chamber, where no Light, Noise, or even Sound can penetrate; and contiguous to it, is a Room for daily Entertainment of my Friends. Another Gallery comes upon this little Court, and points to all the same Views with the former. There is another Chamber, which enjoys the Verdure and Shade of a Plane-Tree, set near it; fac'd with carv'd Work in Marble, Breast-high, up to a Balcony; there is a painting of Branches, and of Birds fitting upon them (with a little Fountain beneath) that equals the Beauty of the Marble: In this Fountain is a Bason, and about it a Number of Tubes and Ca.n.a.ls, that make an agreeable murmur. In a Corner of the Gallery, you pa.s.s into a s.p.a.cious Chamber, opposite to the Dining Room; that looks to the Parterre from some Windows, and the Meadows from the other. Beneath it is a Water-work, that plays under the Windows, delightful both for the Sight, and hearing of the Fall; for the Water, descending from an Height into a Marble Receiver, grows white and foamy. That same Chamber is very warm in Winter, as having the full Advantage of the Sun. Next it is a Stove, and if the Day be overcast, the Vapour of it supplies the Place of the Sun. Thence you go into the Undressing Room for the Bath, it is large and pleasant; then you enter the Cold-bathing Room: where is a Vessel for that Use, large, and sufficiently dark. If you be inclin'd to swim more at Liberty, and with more Warmth, there is a Bath in the Court, and near it a Well, from whence you may be cool'd with fresh Water, if the warm be incommodious. On the Side of the Cold-bathing Room is another of a middle Temper, where the Sun is very favourable; tho' he is more so to the Hot-bathing Apartment, because it is more prominent. There are three Stair-cases to go down to it, two expos'd to the open Sun, the other more remote from it, but as lightsome. Above the Undressing Room for the Bath, is a Tennis-Court, that will admit of several diverting Exercises, and has a Variety of Quarters for it; and not far from the Bath, is a Tennis Court, that will admit of several diverting Exercises, and has a Variety of Quarters for it; and not far from the Bath is a Stair-case, that carries you first into three Apartments, and then into a close Gallery: One of those Apartments looks over the Plane-tree Court, the other to the Meadows, the other to several Vineyards, so that they are expos'd to different Parts of the Heaven; and different Prospects: At the End of the cover'd Gallery is a Chamber taken out of it, which looks to the Riding-Ground, the Vineyards and the Mountains. Contiguous to it, is another very obvious to the Sun, especially in Winter: From this you enter an Apartment, that joins the Riding-House to the Vill: This is the Face and View of it in Front: On the South-side, there is a rais'd close Gallery, which does not seem to look to the Vineyards, but to touch them. In the midst of this Gallery is a Dining-Room, that receives a very wholesome Air from the Apennine Valleys: It has a View through very large Windows to the Vineyards, and from a folding Door to the same from whence the Eye traverses the Gallery. On that side where the Chamber has no Windows, there is a private Stair-Case, that is us'd in the Serving up of an Entertainment. At the End of it is a Chamber, to which the Gallery affords a Prospect as agreeable as the Vineyards. Under it is a Gallery, like a Subterraneous one, that is very cool in Summer, and content with the Air it incloses, neither wants, nor admits, any other. After these two close Galleries, where the Chamber ends, is an open Gallery, cool in the Forenoon, and warm in the decline of the Day. This leads to two Apartments; one is compos'd of four Chambers, the other of three, which, as the Sun takes his Circuit, either enjoy the Gleam, or the Shade. Before these Buildings so well and agreeably dispos'd, is a large Riding-Ground, it is open in the middle, and immediately offers itself entire to the View of those that enter it; it is surrounded with Plane-Trees, which are cloath'd with Ivy: Thus the top of these Trees is green with their proper Leaves, and the lower part is cover'd with a Foreign Foliage. The Ivy wanders over the Trunk and Branches, and joins the Neighbouring Plane-Trees together, in its Pa.s.sage. Between these Planes, are Box Trees; the exterior part of them is encompa.s.s'd with Laurel, which mingles its Shadow with that of the Plane-Trees: The Bound of the Riding-House is here straight, in the Extremity it breaks off in a Semi-circle, and alters its Figure; it is surrounded and cover'd with Cypress-Trees, that make the Shade of it more close and gloomy. In the Inner Rounds of it (for it has a Variety) it receives the clearest Day: It displays every where a beautiful show of Roses, and an agreeable Sun-s.h.i.+ne corrects the too great Coolness of the Shade. When this Variety of Rounds and Bendings is at an end, it returns to a straight Border, and that not a single one: For several Ways and Alleys are divided by middle Rows of Box-Trees; here a green Spot, there the Box itself intervenes, mark'd out in a Thousand Forms, and cut in Letters, that sometimes declare the Name of the Master, and sometimes that of the Workman. You see alternately small Pyramids, and Apple-Trees; and this Rustick Beauty of a Spot, which you would say was convey'd all at once into a Place so elegantly set out, is adorn'd towards the middle with Plane-Trees, which are kept very low, on each side: Then you enter into a Tract cover'd with Bears foot, that is bending and pliable; where is likewise a Number of Figures and of Names, express'd in the Plants. At the Extremity, is a Bed of white Marble, cover'd with a Vine, supported by four Pillars of Carystian Marble: From the Bed a flow of Water, as it were, forc'd out by the Weight of those that lie upon it, is receiv'd in a Stone Basin, and from that, in a thin Sh.e.l.l of Marble, and it is so imperceptibly manag'd, that it fills it, and never overflows. When I am dispos'd to eat in this Place, the more solid Dishes are plac'd on the Sides of this Basin, and the lighter put in Vessels that float in the Water, some in the Shape of Boats, others in that of Birds. Over against it is a Fountain, that flings out, and again receives its Water; for when it has been thrown to a good height, it falls back upon itself, and by two Openings that have a Communication, it descends and mounts again incessantly, opposite to the Bed, against the Chamber. This gives an equal Grace to the Bed, as it borrows from it: It s.h.i.+nes all over with Marble; its folding Doors jutt out among the Greens, and are almost cover'd with them; then it looks upwards and downwards to other Greens from the higher and lower Window. Near it is another little Apartment, that retires, as it were, into the same Chamber, and is distinct from it. Here is a Bed, and Windows on every side, and yet the Light of it is something gloomy by the Shade that covers it: For a very Luxuriant Vine creeps along over all the Building, and rises to the top of it: You repose there as in a Grove, but are not expos'd to the Rain, as you would be there. Here a Fountain likewise starts up, and loses itself in the same Place. There are Marble Seats dispos'd in several Places, that relieve a fatigue of walking, as well as a Chamber. Near the Seats are small Fountains, the Rivulets that issue from then purl along thro' the whole Riding-Ground, in Pipes and Ca.n.a.ls, and follow where the Hand of Art directs them. Sometimes these Greens, sometimes those, and sometimes all together, are wash'd with them. I had finish'd this Account long ago, in fear of being too particular, if I had not propos'd to go about every Corner with you in my Letter: For I was not apprehensive, that it should be tiresome to you in the Reading, which would not have been tedious in the View; especially, when, if you pleas'd, you might rest at Intervals, and, as it were, sit down, laying aside my Epistle. Besides, I indulg'd my own fondness, for I love what I have in a great measure begun; or finish'd, after it had been set on foot by another. In short, (for why should not I impart either my Judgment or Error, to you?) I think it the first Duty of a Writer, to read the t.i.tle of his Subject, and often ask himself what he undertook to write upon; and to know, that if he does stay upon his Subject, he is not to long; but very prolix, if he fetches in every thing that is foreign to it. You observe, in what a Mult.i.tude of Verses Homer and Virgil describe the Arms of neas and Achilles; yet both are short, because they perform what they design'd: You see how Aratus traces over, and collects even the minutest Stars, yet he keeps within Bounds. For this is no Excursion, but the Work itself. Thus to descend from great Matters to smaller, when I endeavour to represent an entire View of my Country Seat to you, if I speak nothing that is strain'd, and digressive, it is not the Letter which gives the Description, but the Vill, which is the Subject of it, that is extravagant. But I must return where I began, least I incur a just Exception, according to my own Rule, if I should depart too far from my Subject. I have given you the Reasons, why I prefer my Tuscan Seat, to those at Tusculum, Prneste, or Tybur. For, over and above what I have related, that Retreat is more quiet, and better supply'd; and therefore more secure; there is no Necessity of a set Dress for Business or Visits, no impertinent Calls from the Neighbourhood. All is pleasing and profoundly easie, which is an addition to the healthful Temper of the Climate; as the Sky is more clear, and the Air more serene here, I enjoy the greatest Vigour, both of Mind and Body. For I exercise my Mind with Studies, and my Body with Hunting. My People live no where in a better Course of Health: I am sure, that hitherto I have lost (thanks to kind Heaven) not one of those I brought hither with me. May the G.o.ds ever continue those Joys to myself, and this l.u.s.tre to the Place hereafter.

Adieu.

Epistle VII. To Calvisius.

by the Same. [Mr. Henley.] On the Will of Saturninus. IT Is notorious, that a Towns.h.i.+p can be neither appointed an Heir, nor make the first Demand upon a Will. But Saturninus, who has left me his Heir, has bequeath'd a fourth Part of his Estate to our Town, and then fix'd that Fourth to 400000 Sesterces: This, in the Eye of the Law, is Null, but in the Intention of the Deceas'd, is firm and valid. Now to me, the Will of the Defunct (tho' I am afraid the Lawyers may take amiss what I shall say) is more important than the Law; especially in a Devise which is made to our common Country. What probability is there, that after having given it 1200000 Sesterces of my own Estate, I should deny it something more than a Third Part of 400000, of what is come to me from another Hand? I know too, that you are not disinclin'd to my Opinion, since you have the Affection of a very worthy Citizen to the same Body. I would therefore desire you, at the next Meeting of the Decurions, to shew, what the Law is; yet in a sparing and modest manner; and then add, that I offer 400000 Sesterces, according to the Will of Saturninus. Let this be call'd his Gift, his Benefaction, but only my Obedience to his Pleasure. I would not write this publickly to the Court; my Confidence in your Friends.h.i.+p, and good Sense, persuaded me that you would speak for me upon this occasion, as you would for your self: And I was afraid, that my Letter might seem to depart from that just Mean, which you might easily preserve in your Discourse. For the Personal Air, the Gesture, the Tone of the Voice itself, determine the Sense what is spoken, but a Letter, dest.i.tute of all these Recommendations, is left naked to every malicious Construction.

Farewell.

Epistle VIII. To Capito.

by a Gentleman of Trinity College, in Cambridge. On the Style and Character of History. YOU advise me to write History, and you are not alone in this Advice; many others have put me upon it more than once, and indeed I am willing enough of my self; not because I believe I shall do it well, ('twere rashness in any one to fancy that before a Tryal) but because I think it a most laudable and glorious thing to preserve those from peris.h.i.+ng who deserve Immortality, and to extend to Posterity the Fame of other Men along with ones own. Now I confess, there's nothing in the World I so pa.s.sionately desire and long after, as to last and be known when I am dead; a Desire most worthy of a Man, but especially one, who not conscious to himself of any Misdemeanour, is not afraid of being remember'd hereafter. With this view I spend whole Days and Nights in considering with my self how I may-- mount upon the Wings of Fame (my Wishes go no farther, what follows is more than I dare wish) And through the World acquire immortal Fame. Yet Oh!--But the first is enough, and even that I might venture to say nothing but History can warrant and secure to us. Oratory and Poetry are unentertaining and without Charms, unless they are perform'd with great Eloquence and Exactness; History, though but indifferently written, always pleases. For Men are naturally curious, and taken with the Knowledge of Things themselves, stript of Dress and Ornament. Plain Narration, and bare Matter of Fact, allures and delights them. Besides, I have a Domestick Example to encourage me in this Undertaking. My Uncle, (Father too by Adoption) has written History with great Niceness and Veracity; and the Wise tell us, that nothing is more commendable, than to tread in the Footsteps of those who have gone before us, provided they have taken the right Road. Why don't I immediately set about it then? I have pleaded, you know, many Causes, and those very considerable, and weighty ones; these Pleadings of mine, though I don't expect much from them indeed, I have Thoughts of Revising; for unless I spend some more time and Study about them, the great Pains I have been at already, will probably be lost and forgotten with their Author. For whatever we do with regard to Posterity, if 'tis not finish'd and exact, had as good never have been begun. You'll say, Why don't you do both, revise your Pleadings, and write your History too? 'Tis what I could wish; but the Work of both is so great, that 'tis abundantly enough to do either to good Purpose. I began to plead in the Forum at Nineteen and never knew before now, what a true Orator ought to be able to do, nay, I am not yet very clear in my Notion about it neither. Wou'd it not be wrong then, whilst I have one weighty Concern upon my Hands, to undertake another? Rhetoric and History, 'tis true, have many Things in common; but still there's a mighty difference in those very Things, which at first sight appear common to both. Narration is proper for one, so 'tis for the other; but after another fas.h.i.+on. Low, and mean, and vulgar Matters may be brought into History; but in Oratory nothing will do but what is far fetch'd, fine, and spruce, and lofty. History generally requires what's solid, substantial and sinewy, Bones, Muscles, and Nerves; in Oratory one looks for nothing but Finery and Ornament, soft wreaths of Fat, and flowing curl'd Locks. In History, we are most of all pleas'd with Strength and Sharpness and Vehemence; in Oratory, with a delectable Flowingness and Sweetness. In short, they are quite different as to Words, p.r.o.nunciation, Composition. For we must very carefully distinguish, whether, what we are about be for a , and useful and durable Treasure, or an a Tryal of Skill, as Thucydides expresses it. History is the , Oratory the . For these Reasons I am against mingling together two Things so unlike; and both of 'em, which also shews their difference, of the greatest Importance. In such a Confusion and Jumble I might go wrong, and whilst I am employ'd in one Thing, do what's proper only in the other. Therefore I desire I may have Liberty to adjourn this Matter for a while (to use an Expression peculiar to the Forum) and go to Council upon it: But however, I would have you consider, and tell me without any delay, what Times I had best write of: Ancient, and written by others? Here indeed, the Business of Searching and Examining is done to my Hands, but then the Comparing, and laying Matters together, is very troublesome Work. Or, suppose, untouch'd and Modern? Here you displease, and give great Offense to some, and gain but slender Thanks from others. For besides one Discouragement there is, that Mankind being so Vicious, one has more Things to blame than to Praise; when you do Praise, you'll be thought to have said too little; when you blame, too much; and though you have been never so full in your Commendations, never so sparing and careful in your finding Fault. But all this shall not hinder me, for I have a Resolution to be honest, and speak Truth, and Courage enough to support me in that Resolution. I beg of you therefore, to forward me in this Undertaking you advise me to, and to chuse for me the Subject of my History, Otherwise, when I am ready to begin, there will be another fair Pretence to demur, and put off still a little longer.

Epistle IX. To Saturninus.

by Mr. Henley. On the Indisposition of Valens, and the Death of Avitus. YOUR Letter has affected me in a different manner; the Subject of it was partly agreeable, and partly uneasie. The agreeable News in it, is, that you make a Stay in Town; you tell me you are not pleas'd at that, but I have Reasons to be so, since you a.s.sure me, that you only wait my Return, to give a publick Reading of your Works; and I thank you for the Favour of that Expectation. The uneasie part of it is, that Julius Valens is very much indispos'd; tho' even this is no Melancholy Tidings, if you reckon it by his own Advantage, for it is his Interest to be eas'd of an incurable Disease with all the Expedition possible. Another Thing is not only said, but deplorable, that Julius Avitus is dead, in his Return from his Qustors.h.i.+p: He dy'd on s.h.i.+pboard, far from a very Affectionate Brother, far from his Mother and Sisters. This does not touch the Deceas'd, but it made an Impression on him, before he dy'd; and is a Concern to those who survive him: But that a Youth of the fairest Hopes should be taken away in the Flower of his Age, who would have attain'd the first Rank, if his Virtues had been ripen'd! What an ardent Love had he for Learning? How much did he read, and write? Which is all departed with him, without Benefit to Posterity. But why do I give a loose to Sorrow? Which, if a Man would indulge, the least Matter in this Consideration, would have Power to raise. I will end these Lines, that I may put a stop to the Tears occasion'd by them.

Farewell.

Epistle X. To Antoninus.

by B. G. Esq; On his Verses. WHEN I wou'd Rival your Verses, then it is, I find the Worth of 'em; for as a Painter seldom does Justice to a perfect Beauty, I fall short of this Original: Wherefore I more earnestly perswade you to publish more, which all may desire to imitate, few or none can come up to.

Epistle XI. To Tranquillus

by Mr. Henley. On some Works of His, that he engag'd to be Publish'd. BE prevail'd upon at last to discharge a Promise I made, in some of my Phaleucic Verses, which engag'd several of your Pieces to our common Friends: There is a daily Call and Enquiry for them; so far, that now there is Danger of a formal Summons to them. I own, I am my self tardy in a Publication, but you have out-done my Loitering and Slowness, by a longer Delay. Therefore, either dispatch the Work, or take Care that my Satyrs do not extort from you, what my better-natur'd Poetry could not invite. Your Work is perfected; and the File at present would not polish, but weaken it. Give me the Pleasure of seeing your Name at the Head of a Book; permit me to hear, to have it copy'd; suffer me to read, to purchase the Volumes of my Friends Suetonius. It is but reasonable, in so mutual a Friends.h.i.+p, that I should receive the same Delight from you, as I have imparted to you.

Farewell.

Epistle XII. To Fabatus, his Wife's Grand-father.

by the Same. [Mr. Henley.] On a Gallery erected by him. I Receiv'd Yours, in which you inform'd me that you had inscrib'd a very beautiful Gallery with your own Name, and that of your son' and on the Day following, had made a Promise of a further Sum, for the Ornament of the Gates of Comum; that the End of your former Bounty, might commence a new Favour. I am greatly pleas'd, first, for your Honour in it, which my Alliance with you gives me a Share of; in the next Place, in observing the Memory of my Father-in-Law preserv'd in Monuments so stately; and Lastly, for the Addition that redounds to my Country by it; which I am pleas'd to find oblig'd by any Hand, but overjoy'd, by yours; I have nothing further to do on this Subject, but to implore the G.o.ds for the Continuance of this Disposition to you, and a length of Years to exert it. For I reckon upon it as a Certainty, that when you have acquitted your last Promise, you embark in another. Generosity once rais'd, can make no Stop; and Practice the more exalts the Beauty of it.

Farewell.

Epistle XIII. To Scaurus.

by the Same. [Mr. Henley.] On the Rehearsal of one of his Orations. DEsigning to rehea.r.s.e a little Speech, which I think to publish, I call'd together some Friends, to quicken my Fear; and but few, to prevent Flattery. For I have a double Reason in this previous Communication of my Works; one, to encrease my Concern about them; the other, to admonish me if any thing should escape me, as my own. I succeeded in my Design. Some gave me Advice: I my self made some Remarks and Amendments. So that I have corrected the Book I sent you. You will know the Subject by the t.i.tle, the Book it self will explain the rest: which it is now proper for you to be so well acquainted with, as to understand without a Preface. I would know your Opinion of the Whole, and its Parts. I shall be the more inclin'd to keep it private, or bolder in bringing it to Light, as your Determination shall lead me on either Hand.

Farewell.