No More Learning

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PLINY THE ELDER
11577
It may possibly be observed that this was because marble was
not then introduced. Such however is not the fact: for in the
ædileship of M. Scaurus, three hundred and sixty columns were
to be seen imported; for the decorations of a temporary thea-
tre, too,- one that was destined to be in use for barely a single
month. And yet the laws were silent thereon; in a spirit of
indulgence for the amusements of the public, no doubt. But
then, why such indulgence? or how do vices more insidiously
steal upon us than under the plea of serving the public? By
what other way, in fact, did ivory, gold, and precious stones,
first come into use with private individuals?
Can we say that there is now anything that we have reserved
for the exclusive use of the gods? However, be it so, let us
admit of this indulgence for the amusements of the public; but
still, why did the laws maintain their silence when the largest
of these columns, pillars of Lucullan marble, as much as eight-
and-thirty feet in height, were erected in the atrium of Scaurus?
a thing, too, that was not done privately or in secret; for the
contractor for the public sewers compelled him to give security
for the possible damage that might be done in the carriage of
them to the Palatium. When so bad an example as this was
set, would it not have been advisable to take some precautions
for the preservation of the public morals? And yet the laws still
preserved their silence, when such enormous masses as these
were being carried past the earthenware pediments of the tem-
ples of the gods, to the house of a private individual!
ANECDOTES OF ARTISTS
From the Natural History'
APELLES
A
CIRCUMSTANCE that happened to him in connection with Pro-
togenes is worthy of notice. The latter was living at
Rhodes, when Apelles disembarked there, desirous of seeing
the works of a man whom he had hitherto only known by reputa-
tion. Accordingly, he repaired at once to the studio; Protogenes
was not at home, but there happened to be a large panel upon
the easel ready for painting, with an old woman who was left in


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11578
PLINY THE ELDER
charge. To his inquiries she made answer that Protogenes was
not at home; and then asked whom she should name
as the
visitor. "Here he is," was the reply of Apelles; and seizing a
brush, he traced with color upon the panel an outline of a sin-
gularly minute fineness. Upon his return the old woman men-
tioned to Protogenes what had happened. The artist, it is said,
upon remarking the delicacy of the touch, instantly exclaimed
that Apelles must have been the visitor, for that no other per-
son was capable of executing anything so exquisitely perfect.
So saying, he traced within the same outline a still finer out-
line, but with another color; and then took his departure, with
instructions to the woman to show it to the stranger if he
returned, and to let him know that this was the person whom
he had come to see. It happened as he anticipated,- Apelles
returned; and vexed at finding himself thus surpassed, he took
up another color and split both of the outlines, leaving no possi-
bility of anything finer being executed. Upon seeing this, Pro-
togenes admitted that he was defeated, and at once flew to the
harbor to look for his guest. He thought proper, too, to trans-
mit the panel to posterity, just as it was; and it always con-
tinued to be held in the highest admiration by all,- artists in
particular. I am told that it was burnt in the first fire which
took place at Cæsar's palace on the Palatine Hill; but in for-
mer times I have often stopped to admire it. Upon its vast sur-
face it contained nothing whatever except the three outlines, so
remarkably fine as to escape the sight: among the most elabor-
ate works of numerous other artists it had all the appearance of
a blank space; and yet by that very fact it attracted the notice
of every one, and was held in higher estimation than any other
painting there.
It was a custom with Apelles, to which he most tenaciously
adhered, never to let any day pass, however busy he might
be, without exercising himself by tracing some outline or other;
a practice which has now passed into a proverb. It was also a
practice with him, when he had completed a work, to exhibit
it to the view of the passers-by in some exposed place; while he
himself, concealed behind the picture, would listen to the criticisms
that were passed upon it: it being his opinion that the judgment
of the public was preferable to his own, as being the more dis-
cerning of the two. It was under these circumstances, they say,
that he was censured by a shoemaker for having represented the


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PLINY THE ELDER
11579
In
shoes with one shoe-string too little. The next day, the shoe-
maker, quite proud at seeing the former error corrected, thanks
to his advice, began to criticize the leg; upon which Apelles, full
of indignation, popped his head out, and reminded him that a
shoemaker should give no opinion beyond the shoes,- a piece
of advice which has equally passed into a proverbial saying.
fact, Apelles was a person of great amenity of manners,—a cir-
cumstance which rendered him particularly agreeable to Alexander
the Great, who would often come to his studio. He had forbidden
himself by public edict, as already stated, to be represented by
any other artist.
On one occasion, however, when the prince was
in his studio, talking a great deal about painting without knowing
anything about it, Apelles quietly begged that he would quit the
subject, telling him that he would get laughed at by the boys
who were there grinding the colors: so great was the influence
which he rightfully possessed over a monarch who was otherwise.
of an irascible temperament. And yet, irascible as he was, Alex-
ander conferred upon him a very signal mark of the high esti-
mation in which he held him: for having, in his admiration of
her extraordinary beauty, engaged Apelles to paint Pancaste un-
draped, the most beloved of all his concubines, - the artist while.
so engaged fell in love with her; upon which, Alexander, perceiv-
ing this to be the case, made him a present of her: thus showing
himself, though a great king in courage, a still greater one in self-
command, this action redounding no less to his honor than any
of his victories.
ww
――――
PRAXITELES
SUPE
UPERIOR to all the statues not only of Praxiteles, but of any
other artist that ever existed, is his Cnidian Venus; for the
inspection of which, many persons before now have pur-
posely undertaken a voyage to Cnidos. The artist made two
statues of the goddess, and offered them both for sale: one of
them was represented with drapery, and for this reason was pre-
ferred by the people of Cos, who had the choice; the second
was offered them at the same price, but on the grounds of pro-
priety and modesty they thought fit to choose the other. Upon
this, the Cnidians purchased the rejected statue, and immensely
superior has it always been held in general estimation. At a later.
period, King Nicomedes wished to purchase this statue of the


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11580
PLINY THE ELDER
Cnidians, and made them an offer to pay off the whole of their
public debt, which was very large. They preferred, however, to
submit to any extremity rather than part with it; and with good
reason, for by this statue Praxiteles has perpetuated the glory of
Cnidos. The little temple in which it is placed is open on all
sides, so that the beauties of the statue admit of being seen from
every point of view,- an arrangement which was favored by the
goddess herself, it is generally believed.
PHIDIAS
MONG all nations which the fame of the Olympian Jupiter has
reached, Phidias is looked upon, beyond all doubt, as the
most famous of artists; but to let those who have never
seen his works know how deservedly he is esteemed, we will
take this opportunity of adducing a few slight proofs of the
genius which he displayed. In doing this we shall not appeal
to the beauty of his Olympian Jupiter, nor yet to the vast pro-
portions of his Athenian Minerva, six-and-twenty cubits in height,
and composed of ivory and gold: but it is to the shield of this
last statue that we shall draw attention; upon the convex face of
which he has chased a combat of the Amazons, while upon the
concave side of it he has represented the battle between the gods
and the giants. Upon the sandals, again, we see the wars of the
Lapithæ and Centaurs; so careful has he been to fill every small-
est portion of his work with some proof or other of his artistic
skill. To the story chased upon the pedestal of the statue, the
name of the 'Birth of Pandora' has been given; and the figures
of new-born gods to be seen upon it are no less than twenty in
number. The figure of Victory, in particular, is most admirable;
and connoisseurs are greatly struck with the serpent and the
sphinx in bronze lying beneath the point of the spear. Let thus
much be said incidentally in reference to an artist who can never
be sufficiently praised.


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PLINY THE ELDER
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-
THE MOST PERFECT WORKS OF NATURE
Peroration to the Natural History>
H
AVING now treated of all the works of Nature, it will be as
well to take a sort of comparative view of her several pro-
ductions, as well as of the countries which supply them.
Throughout the whole earth, then, and wherever the vault of
heaven extends, there is no country so beautiful, or which for
the productions of nature merits so high a rank, as Italy, that
ruler and second parent of the world; recommended as she is
by her men, her women, her generals, her soldiers, her slaves,
her superiority in the arts, and the illustrious examples of genius
which she has produced. Her situation, too, is equally in her
favor: the salubrity and mildness of her climate; the easy access
which she offers to all nations; her coasts indented with so many
harbors; the propitious breezes, too, that always prevail on her
shores; advantages, all of them due to her situation, lying as
she does midway between the East and the West, and extended
in the most favorable of all positions. Add to this the abundant
supply of her waters, the salubrity of her groves, the repeated
intersections of her mountain ranges, the comparative innocuous-
ness of her wild animals, the fertility of her soil, and the singu-
lar richness of her pastures.
Whatever there is that the life of man ought not to feel in
want of, is nowhere to be found in greater perfection than here;
the cereals, for example, wine, oil, wool, flax, tissues, and oxen.
As to horses, there are none I find preferred to those of Italy
for the course; while for mines of gold, silver, copper, and iron,
so long as it was deemed lawful to work them, Italy was held
inferior to no country whatsoever. At the present day, teeming
as she is with these treasures, she contents herself with lavish-
ing upon us, as the whole of her bounties, her various liquids, and
the numerous flavors yielded by her cereals and her fruits.
Next to Italy, if we except the fabulous regions of India, I
would rank Spain, for my own part; those districts at least that
lie in the vicinity of the sea. She is parched and sterile in one
part, it is true; but where she is at all productive, she yields the
cereals in abundance, oil, wine, horses, and metals of every kind.
In all these respects, Gaul is her equal, no doubt; but Spain, on
the other hand, outdoes the Gallic provinces in her spartium and


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PLINY THE ELDER
her specular stone, in the products of her desert tracts, in her
pigments that minister to our luxuries, in the ardor displayed by
her people in laborious employments, in the perfect training of
her slaves, in the robustness of body of her men, and in their
general resoluteness of character.
As to the productions themselves, the greatest value of all,
among the products of the sea, is attached to pearls; of objects.
that lie upon the surface of the earth, it is crystals that are most
highly esteemed; and of those derived from the interior, adamas,
smaragdus, precious stones, and murrhine, are the things upon
which the highest value is placed. The most costly things that
are matured by the earth are the kermes-berry and laser; that
are gathered from trees,-nard and Seric tissues; that are derived
from the trunks of trees,-logs of citrus-wood; that are produced
by shrubs,-cinnamon, cassia, and amomum; that are yielded by
the juices of trees or of shrubs,-amber, opobalsamum, myrrh,
and frankincense; that are found in the roots of trees, - the per-
fumes derived from costus. The most valuable products furnished
by living animals on land are the teeth of elephants; by ani-
mals in the sea, tortoise-shell; by the coverings of animals, the
skins which the Seres dye, and the substance gathered from the
hair of the she-goats of Arabia, which we have spoken of under
the name of "ladanum "; by creatures that are common to both
land and sea, the purple of the murex. With reference to the
birds, beyond plumes for warriors' helmets, and the grease that
is derived from the geese of Commagene, I find no remarkable
product mentioned. We must not omit, too, to observe that gold,
for which there is such a mania with all mankind, hardly holds
the tenth rank as an object of value, and silver, with which we
purchase gold, hardly the twentieth!
Hail to thee, Nature, thou parent of all things! and do thou
deign to show thy favor unto me, who, alone of all the citizens
of Rome, have in thy every department thus made known thy
praise.


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11583
PLINY THE YOUNGER
(CAIUS PLINIUS CECILIUS SECUNDUS)
(61-113? A. D. )
UBLIUS CECILIUS SECUNDUS, as he was at first named, was
in his eighteenth year when his uncle and guardian, the
elder Pliny, perished in the eruption of Vesuvius, 79 A. D. ,
leaving his fortune and his name to his ward. The boy had been
carefully educated by his mother, and his other guardian, the noble
Verginius Rufus, whose virtues he afterwards commemorated in one
of his epistles. Rich, well born, well educated, Pliny rapidly rose
to eminence in his profession as advocate,
pleading not only in the courts, but also
having a part in important cases before the
Senate. Not content with professional suc-
cess, however, he revised and published his
speeches, and aspired to be equally eminent
as a man of letters; in this and other mat-
ters (as he was not ashamed to admit) fol-
lowing the example of Cicero. More than
once his letters record the anxious care
which he and his friends bestowed upon
the elaboration of his orations; but nothing
of them has survived save one show-piece,
the so-called 'Panegyricus,' in praise of
his friend and patron the Emperor Trajan.
This is an ornate and labored production, which scarcely excites
regret that the rest have perished. There were not wanting friends
to tell him that his style was too daring, and Macrobius is probably
quite correct in assigning him to the luxuriant and florid type of
oratory.
PLINY THE YOUNGER

Pliny's advancement in office was equally rapid,- too rapid, per-
haps, since he owed much of his early success to the hated Domitian.
He was quæstor in 89, tribune 91, prætor 93, and subsequently filled
important posts connected with the Treasury. It seems, indeed, to
have been his unusual ability as a financier which commended him;
but he is careful to inform us that after Domitian's 'death, papers were


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11584
PLINY THE YOUNGER
found showing how narrowly Pliny had escaped the fate that over-
took all virtue under that odious tyranny. In the year 100 his offi-
cial career was crowned by an appointment as consul suffectus for the
months of September and October; a consulship which he can hardly
have enjoyed comparing with Cicero's. Some eleven years later he
was sent as proconsul to the province of Pontus and Bithynia;
and there, or shortly after his return to Rome, he seems to have
died.
The nine books of Letters' on which his fame now rests were
composed after the death of Domitian, and published at intervals
from 97 to 109. A tenth book was subsequently added, containing
his correspondence with Trajan while in his province, together with
the Emperor's very business-like answers. In this last book occurs
the famous letter concerning the Christians, probably the best-known
passage in the entire collection. There can be little doubt that Pliny
composed the vast majority of his epistles expressly for publication.
It has been pointed out, for example, that only twice is any one
of whom an unfavorable opinion is expressed, mentioned by name.
Pliny, according to his own account, is the most gallant of husbands,
the most amiable of friends; affectionate to all his relatives, generous
to all his dependents, on the best of terms with all the world save
Regulus; and Regulus dies betimes. It is not hard for some readers
of Pliny to vote him a prig, and to believe that his likeness to
Cicero resides chiefly in his vanity and his weakness. And it is not
easy for any one familiar with that period as depicted in the pages
of Tacitus, Juvenal, and Suetonius, to recognize it when viewed from
Pliny's standpoint. So much amiability in the writer, so much virtue
in his friends, seem a trifle suspicious. But it would be unjust to
consider Pliny a mere poseur, - a deliberate flatterer of himself or of
his age.
Amiable, clever, cultured, successful, he was disposed to look
upon the bright side of men and things. He too had lived through
the Reign of Terror, and can tell gloomy tales of men's baseness.
But it is much to his credit that he prefers to record the good that
survived to a happier epoch. Virtuous men and women, loyal friends,
domestic happiness, were still to be found in Rome; and the many
charming pictures drawn by Pliny are doubtless as free from exag-
geration as the gloomy scenes painted by the more skillful brushes
of his greater contemporaries.
While there is some attempt to observe chronological order in the
arrangement of the letters, it is evident that the author has tried to
heighten their attractiveness by varying his topics. With few excep-
tions each letter discusses but one subject, and the diction bears
every mark of labored simplicity. The correspondence thus lacks
that spontaneity and unconscious ease which are universally felt to


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PLINY THE YOUNGER
11585
be the highest charm of letter-writing,- those qualities which make
so much of Cicero's correspondence a delight, and the lack of which
makes Pope's letters a perpetual challenge to the reader's criticism.
But though Pliny has not "snatched a grace beyond the reach of
art," he is nevertheless very good reading. The style may smack of
artifice; but with the utmost good taste, good sense, and good humor,
he tells us (apparently) all about himself, and very much about the
age in which he lived. Literary gossip, anecdotes of famous or infa-
mous characters, ghost stories; descriptions of his villas, his poems,
his suppers, his uncle's library; the death of Martial, the eruption
of Vesuvius, an invitation to dinner; the deterioration of the law
courts, and the abuse of the ballot in the Senate; a plan to pur-
chase an estate, to write an epic, to build a temple,-on these and
a hundred other topics he affords us invaluable glimpses into the
life of his day. He is sufficiently piquant, without being spiteful;
sympathetic, without being sentimental; and while he can no longer
be esteemed a genius, he is better loved and more widely known as
a singularly pure man and a most entertaining companion.
It was
as a genius, however, that he had hoped to live in the
memory of posterity. The world of literature filled a large part of
his thoughts; and there is no reason to suppose him insincere when
he laments that his engagements, social and professional, prevent
him from devoting all his strength to the "pursuit of immortality. "
His uncle had been an indefatigable reader, writer, and collector of
books. Among Pliny's teachers was Quintilian, the great rhetorician
of the age.
Tacitus was his intimate friend. He patronized Martial,
and knew well Suetonius, Silius Italicus, and many other writers less
important in our eyes, because their works have perished.
We may
agree with Juvenal that authors' readings must have been a deadly
bore, but we need not conclude that Pliny was a hypocrite because
he was untiring in his attendance upon them. His poems (as good,
no doubt, as his model Cicero's), his orations, his narrative pieces,
are repeatedly mentioned, and were evidently the subject of his most
anxious thought. So generous a patron, so appreciative a friend,
could hardly have lacked favorable critics; and he very cordially
welcomes from his contemporaries any forestallment of the verdict
which he hoped from posterity. Yet it must be admitted that his
critical insight was quite good enough to rate his friends much as
later ages have ranked them. The vast merits of Tactitus he fully
recognized, and was unfeignedly glad to have his name coupled with
the great historian's as an eminent literary character. Of Silius Itali-
cus, on the other hand, he remarks that "he used to write verses
with more diligence than force," -a criticism which very few have
been found to dispute. On other topics than literature, moreover,
XX-725


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PLINY THE YOUNGER
Pliny was often in striking agreement with modern sentiment. His
humanity, even affection, for his slaves, his politeness to his de-
pendents, his appreciation of the beauties of nature, his generous
promotion of public education,-in these and other matters he is sur-
prisingly unlike the average of his countrymen. No doubt he has
idealized his own portrait, but we may well be grateful to the artist
for such an ideal.
The facts of Pliny's life have been fully discussed by Mommsen,
(Hermes, iii. 108). There is a good biography by Church and
Brodribb (Ancient Classics for English Readers'), which was made
the occasion of an especially good article on Pliny in the Westmin-
ster Review, Vol. 47, 1875. There is no complete (modern) edition
with English notes; but there are good selections by J. E. B. Mayor,
(Book iii. ), Pritchard and Bernard, and others. Of the German edi-
tions, M. Döring, 2 vols. , 1843, is recommended.
There is a very
faithful translation in English by Lewis (Trübner, 1879), and a more
readable version in Johnsonese by Melmoth, revised by Bosanquet for
the Bohn series (Bell and Sons).
PORTRAIT OF A RIVAL
I
OFTEN tell you that there is a certain force of character about
Regulus: it is wonderful how he carries through what he has
set his mind to. He chose lately to be extremely concerned
for the loss of his son; accordingly he mourned for him as never
man mourned before. He took it into his head to have an
immense number of statues and pictures of him; immediately all
the artisans in Rome are set to work. Canvas, wax, brass, silver,
gold, ivory, marble, all exhibit the figure of the young Regulus.
Not long ago he read before a numerous audience a memoir of
his son;
a memoir of a mere boy! however, he read it. He
wrote likewise a sort of circular letter to the several decurii,
desiring them to choose out one of their order who had a strong
clear voice, to read this eulogy to the people; it has been actually
done. Now had this force of character, or whatever else you may
call a fixed determination in obtaining whatever one has a mind
for, been rightly applied, what infinite good it might have effected!
The misfortune is, there is less of this quality about good peo-
ple than about bad people; and as ignorance begets rashness, and
thoughtfulness produces deliberation, so modesty is apt to cripple
the action of virtue, whilst confidence strengthens vice. Regulus
-


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PLINY THE YOUNGER
11587
is a case in point: he has a weak voice, an awkward delivery,
an indistinct utterance, a slow imagination, and no memory; in a
word, he possesses nothing but a sort of frantic energy; and yet,
by the assistance of a flighty turn and much impudence, he passes
as an orator. Herennius Senecio admirably reversed Cato's defi-
nition of an orator, and applied it to Regulus: "An orator,"
he said, "is a bad man, unskilled in the art of speaking. " And
really Cato's definition is not a more exact description of a true
orator than Senecio's is of the character of this man.
Would you
make me a suitable return for this letter? Let me know if you,
or any of my friends in your town, have, like a stroller in the
market-place, read this doleful production of Regulus's, "raising,"
as Demosthenes says, "your voice most merrily, and straining
every muscle in your throat. " For so absurd a performance must
excite laughter rather than compassion; and indeed the composi-
tion is as puerile as the subject. Farewell.
TO MINUTIUS FUNDANUS: HOW TIME PASSES AT ROME
From the Letters'
WHE
HEN one considers how the time passes at Rome, one can-
not be surprised that, take any single day, and it either
is, or at least seems to be, spent reasonably enough; and
yet, upon casting up the whole sum, the amount will appear quite
otherwise. Ask any one, "What have you been doing to-day? "
He will tell you perhaps, "I have been at the ceremony of put-
ting on the toga virilis; I attended a wedding; one man begged
me to be witness to his will; another to attend the hearing of
his case; a third called me in to a consultation. " These things
seem important enough, whilst one is about them; yet, when you
reflect at your leisure that every day has been thus employed,
they seem mere trifles. At such a time one is apt to think to
oneself, "How much of my life I have frittered away in dull,
useless, routine sort of work. " At least it is a reflection which
frequently comes across me at Laurentum, after I have been
doing a little reading and writing, and taking care of the ani-
mal machine (for the body must be supported if we would keep
the mind alert and vigorous). There I neither hear nor speak
anything I have occasion to be sorry for. No one talks scandal
to me, and I find fault with nobody,-unless myself, when I am


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11588
PLINY THE YOUNGER
dissatisfied with my compositions. There I live undisturbed by
rumor, and free from the anxious solicitudes of hope and fear,
conversing only with myself and my books. True and genuine
life! Sweet and honorable repose! More, perhaps, to be desired
than employments of any kind! Thou solemn sea and solitary
shore, true and most retired school of art and poetry, with how
many noble thoughts do you inspire me! Snatch then, my friend,
as I have, the first opportunity of leaving the town with its din,
its empty bustle and laborious trifles, and devote your days to
study or to repose; for as Attilius happily observed, "It is bet-
ter to have nothing to do than to be doing nothing. " Farewell.
TO SOCIUS SENECIO: THE LAST CROP OF POETS
From the 'Letters'
THIS
HIS year has produced a plentiful crop of poets: during the
whole month of April, scarcely a day has passed on which
we have not been entertained with the recital of some poem.
It is a pleasure to me to find that a taste for polite literature
still exists, and that men of genius do come forward and make
themselves known, notwithstanding the lazy attendance they get
for their pains. The greater part of the audience sit in the
lounging-places, gossip away their time there, and are perpetually
sending to inquire whether the author has made his entrance
yet, whether he has got through the preface, or whether he has
almost finished the piece. Then at length they saunter in with
an air of the greatest indifference; nor do they condescend to
stay through the recital, but go out before it is over, some slyly
and stealthily, others again with perfect freedom and unconcern.
And yet our fathers can remember how Claudius Cæsar walking
one day in the palace, and hearing a great shouting, inquired the
cause; and being informed that Nonianus was reciting a com-
position of his, went immediately to the place, and agreeably
surprised the author with his presence. But now, were one to
bespeak the attendance of the idlest man living, and remind him
of the appointment ever so often, or ever so long beforehand,
either he would not come at all, or if he did, would grumble
about having "lost a day! " for no other reason but because he
had not lost it. So much the more do those authors deserve our
encouragement and applause who have resolution to persevere in


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PLINY THE YOUNGER
11589
their studies, and to read out their compositions in spite of this
apathy or arrogance on the part of their audience. Myself indeed,
I scarcely ever miss being present upon any occasion; though, to
tell the truth, the authors have generally been friends of mine,
as indeed there are few men of literary tastes who are not. It
is this which has kept me in town longer than I had intended.
I am now, however, at liberty to go back into the country and
write something myself: which I do not intend reciting, lest I
should seem rather to have lent than given my attendance to
these recitations of my friends; for in these, as in all other good
offices, the obligation ceases the moment you seem to expect a
return. Farewell.
TO NEPOS: OF ARRIA
From the Letters'
I
HAVE Constantly observed that amongst the deeds and sayings
of illustrious persons of either sex, some have made more
noise in the world, whilst others have been really greater,
although less talked about; and I am confirmed in this opinion.
by a conversation I had yesterday with Fannia. This lady is
granddaughter to that celebrated Arria, who animated her hus-
band to meet death by her own glorious example. She informed
me of several particulars relating to Arria, no less heroic than
this applauded action of hers, though taken less notice of; and I
think you will be as surprised to read the account of them as
I was to hear it. Her husband Cæcinna Pætus, and her son, were
both attacked at the same time with a fatal illness, as was sup-
posed; of which the son died,—a youth of remarkable beauty,
and as modest as he was comely, endeared indeed to his parents
no less by his many graces than from the fact of his being their
son. His mother prepared his funeral and conducted the usual
ceremonies so privately that Pætus did not know of his death.
Whenever she came into his room, she pretended her son was
alive and actually better; and as often as he inquired after his
health, would answer, "He has had a good rest, and eaten his
food with quite an appetite. " Then when she found the tears
she had so long kept back gushing forth in spite of herself, she
would leave the room, and having given vent to her grief, return
with dry eyes and a serene countenance, as though she had


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PLINY THE YOUNGER
11590
dismissed every feeling of bereavement at the door of her hus-
band's chamber. I must confess it was a brave action in her to
draw the steel, plunge it into her breast, pluck out the dagger
and present it to her husband with that ever memorable, I had
almost said that divine, expression, "Pætus, it is not painful. "
But when she spoke and acted thus, she had the prospect of glory
and immortality before her; how far greater, without the support
of any such animating motives, to hide her tears, to conceal her
grief, and cheerfully to act the mother when a mother no more!
Scribonianus had taken up arms against Claudius in Illyria,
where he lost his life; and Pætus, who was of his party, was
brought prisoner to Rome. When they were going to put him
on board ship, Arria besought the soldiers that she might be per-
mitted to attend him: "For surely," she urged, "you will allow
a man of consular rank some servants to dress him, attend on
him at meals, and put his shoes on for him; but if you will
take me, I alone will perform all these offices.
" Her request was
refused; upon which she hired a fishing-boat, and in that small
vessel followed the ship. On her return to Rome, meeting the
wife of Scribonianus in the emperor's palace, at the time when
this woman voluntarily gave evidence against the conspirators,—
«< What," she exclaimed, "shall I hear you even speak to me?
you, on whose bosom your husband Scribonianus was murdered,
and yet you survive him! "-an expression which plainly shows
that the noble manner in which she put an end to her life was no
unpremeditated effect of sudden passion. Moreover, when Thrasea,
her son-in-law, was endeavoring to dissuade her from her purpose
of destroying herself, and amongst other arguments which he
used, said to her, "Would you then advise your daughter to die
with me if my life were to be taken from me? " "Most certainly
I would," she replied, "if she had lived as long and in as much
harmony with you, as I have with my Pætus. " This answer
greatly increased the alarm of her family, and made them watch
her for the future more narrowly; which when she perceived,
"It is of no use," she said: "you may oblige me to effect my
death in a more painful way, but it is impossible you should
prevent it. " Saying this, she sprang from her chair, and running
her head with the utmost violence against the wall, fell down, to
all appearance dead; but being brought to herself again, "I told
you," she said, "if you would not suffer me to take an easy path
to death, I should find a way to it, however hard. " Now, is there


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PLINY THE YOUNGER
11591
not, my friend, something much greater in all this than in the
so-much-talked-of "Pætus, it is not painful," to which these led
the way? And yet this last is the favorite topic of fame, while
all the former are passed over in silence. Whence I cannot but
infer, what I observed at the beginning of my letter, that some
actions are more celebrated, whilst others are really greater.
TO MARCELLINUS: DEATH OF FUNDANUS'S DAUGHTER
From the Letters'
I
WRITE this to you in the deepest sorrow: the youngest daughter
of my friend Fundanus is dead! I have never seen a more
cheerful and more lovable girl, or one who better deserved
to have enjoyed a long-I had almost said an immortal-life!
She was scarcely fourteen, and yet there was in her a wisdom far
beyond her years, a matronly gravity united with girlish sweet-
ness and virgin bashfulness. With what an endearing fondness
did she hang on her father's neck! How affectionately and mod-
estly she used to greet us his friends! With what a tender and
deferential regard she used to treat her nurses, tutors, teach-
ers, each in their respective offices! What an eager, industrious,
intelligent reader she was! She took few amusements, and those
with caution. How self-controlled, how patient, how brave she
was, under her last illness! She complied with all the directions
of her physicians; she spoke cheerful, comforting words to her
sister and her father; and when all her bodily strength was
exhausted, the vigor of her mind sustained her. That indeed.
continued even to her last moments, unbroken by the pain of a
long illness, or the terrors of approaching death; and it is a
reflection which makes us miss her, and grieve that she has gone
from us, the more. Oh, melancholy, untimely loss, too truly!
She was engaged to an excellent young man; the wedding day
was fixed, and we were all invited. How our joy has been turned
into sorrow! I cannot express in words the inward pain I felt
when I heard Fundanus himself (as grief is ever finding out
fresh circumstances to aggravate its affliction) ordering the money
he had intended laying out upon clothes, pearls, and jewels for
her marriage, to be employed in frankincense, ointments, and per-
fumes for her funeral. He is a man of great learning and good
sense, who has applied himself from his earliest youth to the


## p. 11592 (#206) ##########################################

11592
PLINY THE YOUNGER
deeper studies and the fine arts; but all the maxims of fortitude
which he has received from books, or advanced himself, he now
absolutely rejects, and every other virtue of his heart gives place
to all a parent's tenderness. You will excuse, you will even
approve, his grief, when you consider what he has lost. He has
lost a daughter who resembled him in his manners, as well as his
person, and exactly copied out all her father. So, if you should
think proper to write to him upon the subject of so reasonable
a grief, let me remind you not to use the rougher arguments of
consolation, and such as seem to carry a sort of reproof with
them, but those of kind and sympathizing humanity. Time will
render him more open to the dictates of reason; for as a fresh
wound shrinks back from the hand of the surgeon, but by degrees
submits to, and even seeks of its own accord, the means of its
cure, so a mind under the first impression of a misfortune shuns
and rejects all consolations, but at length desires and is lulled by
their gentle application. Farewell.
TO CALPURNIA
From the Letters'
EVER was business more disagreeable to me than when it
Ne prevented me not only from accompanying you when you
went into Campania for your health, but from following
you there soon after; for I want particularly to be with you now,
that I may learn from my own eyes whether you are growing
stronger and stouter, and whether the tranquillity, the amusements,
and the plenty of that charming country really agree with you.
Were you in perfect health, yet I could ill support your absence;
for even
a moment's uncertainty of the welfare of those we
tenderly love causes a feeling of suspense and anxiety: but now
your sickness conspires with your absence to trouble me griev-
ously with vague and various anxieties. I dread everything,
fancy everything, and as is natural to those who fear, conjure up
the very things that I most dread. Let me the more earnestly
entreat you then to think of my anxiety, and write to me every
day, and even twice a day: I shall be more easy, at least while I
am reading your letters, though when I have read them, I shall
immediately feel my fears again. Farewell.


## p. 11593 (#207) ##########################################

PLINY THE YOUNGER
11593
TO TACITUS: THE ERUPTION OF VESUVIUS
From the 'Letters'
YOUR
OUR 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 acci-
dent shall be celebrated by your pen, the glory of it, I am well
assured, will be rendered for ever illustrious. And notwithstand-
ing he perished by a misfortune which, as it involved at the
same time a most beautiful country in ruins, and destroyed so
nany populous cities, seems to promise him an everlasting remem-
brance; notwithstanding he has himself composed many and last-
ing 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 evi-
dently prove, may justly be ranked. It is with extreme willing-
ness, therefore, that I execute your commands; and should indeed
have claimed the task if you had not enjoined it.
that time with the fleet under his command at Misenum. 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, 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,


## p. 11594 (#208) ##########################################

11594
PLINY THE YOUNGER
according as it was either more or less impregnated with earth
and cinders. This phenomenon seemed, to a man of such learn-
ing 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 there-
fore to come to her assistance. He accordingly changed his first
intention, and what he had begun from a philosophical, he now
carried out in a noble and generous spirit. He ordered the gal-
leys to 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, "favors the brave: steer to where Pomponianus is. "
Pomponianus was then at Stabiæ, 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 favorable, 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


## p. 11595 (#209) ##########################################

PLINY THE YOUNGER
11595
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 make 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 threatened destruction. In this choice of dangers
they resolved for the fields; a resolution which, while the rest of
the company were hurried into it by their fears, my uncle em-
braced upon cool and deliberate consideration. They went out
then, having pillows tied upon their heads with napkins; and this
was their whole defense against the storm of stones that fell round
them. It was now day everywhere else, but there a deeper dark-
ness prevailed than in the thickest night; which however was
in some degree alleviated by torches and other lights of various
kinds. They thought proper to go farther down upon the shore
to see if they might safely put out to sea, but found the waves
still running extremely high and boisterous. There my uncle,
laying himself down upon a sail-cloth, which was spread for him,
called twice for some cold water, which he drank; when immedi-
ately the flames, preceded by a strong whiff of sulphur, dispersed
the rest of the party and obliged him to rise. He raised him-
self up with the assistance of two of his servants, and instantly
fell down dead; suffocated, as I conjecture, by some gross and
noxious vapor; having always had a weak throat, which was often
inflamed. As soon as it was light again, which was not till the


## p. 11596 (#210) ##########################################

11596
PLINY THE YOUNGER
third day after this melancholy accident, his body was found
entire, and without any marks of violence upon it, in the dress in
which he fell, and looking more like a man asleep than dead.
. Farewell.
TO CALPURNIA
From the 'Letters'
You
ou will not believe what a longing for you possesses me. The
chief cause of this is my love; and then we have not grown
used to be apart. So it comes to pass that I lie awake a
great part of the night, thinking of you; and that by day, when
the hours return at which I was wont to visit you, my feet take
me, as it is so truly said, to your chamber; but not finding you
there, I return, sick and sad at heart, like an excluded lover.
The only time that is free from these torments is when I am
being worn out at the bar, and in the suits of my friends. Judge
you what must be my life when I find my repose in toil, my sol-
ace in wretchedness and anxiety. Farewell.
TO MAXIMUS: PLINY'S SUCCESS AS AN AUTHOR
From the Letters'
IT
HAS frequently happened, as I have been pleading before
the Court of the Hundred, that those venerable judges, after
having preserved for a long period the gravity and solemnity
suitable to their character, have suddenly, as though urged by
irresistible impulse, risen up to a man and applauded me. I have
often likewise gained as much glory in the Senate as my utmost
wishes could desire; but I never felt a more sensible pleasure
than by an account which I lately received from Cornelius Taci-
tus. He informed me that at the last Circensian games he sat
next to a Roman knight, who, after conversation had passed be-
tween them upon various points of learning, asked him, “Are you
an Italian or a provincial? " Tacitus replied, "Your acquaint-
ance with literature must surely have informed you who I am. "
"Pray, then, is it Tacitus or Pliny I am talking with? " I cannot
express how highly I am pleased to find that our names are not
so much the proper appellatives of men as a kind of distinction


## p. 11597 (#211) ##########################################

PLINY THE YOUNGER
11597
for learning herself; and that eloquence renders us known to
those who would otherwise be ignorant of us. An accident of the
same kind happened to me a few days ago. Fabius Rufinus, a
person of distinguished merit, was placed next to me at table;
and below him a countryman of his, who had just then come to
Rome for the first time. Rufinus, calling his friend's attention.
to me, said to him, "You see this man? " and entered into a con-
versation upon the subject of my pursuits; to whom the other
immediately replied, "This must undoubtedly be Pliny. " To
confess the truth, I look upon these instances as a very consid-
erable recompense of my labors. If Demosthenes had reason to
be pleased with the old woman of Athens crying out, "This is
Demosthenes! " may not I, then, be allowed to congratulate myself
upon the celebrity my name has acquired? Yes, my friend, I
will rejoice in it, and without scruple admit that I do.
As I only
mention the judgment of others, not my own, I am not afraid of
incurring the censure of vanity; especially from you, who, whilst
envying no man's reputation, are particularly zealous for mine.
Farewell.
TO FUSCUS: A DAY IN THE COUNTRY
From the Letters'
You
want to know how I portion out my day in my summer
villa at Tuscum? I get up just when I please; generally
about sunrise, often earlier, but seldom later than this. I
keep the shutters closed, as darkness and silence wonderfully pro-
mote meditation. Thus free and abstracted from those outward
objects which dissipate attention, I am left to my own thoughts;
nor suffer my mind to wander with my eyes, but keep my eyes
in subjection to my mind, which, when they are not distracted by
a multiplicity of external objects, see nothing but what the imagi-
nation represents to them. If I have any work in hand, this is
the time I choose for thinking it out, word for word, even to the
minutest accuracy of expression. In this way I compose more or
less, according as the subject is more or less difficult and I find
myself able to retain it. I then call my secretary, and opening
the shutters, dictate to him what I have put into shape; after
which I dismiss him, then call him in again and again dismiss
him. About ten or eleven o'clock (for I do not observe one fixed


## p. 11598 (#212) ##########################################

11598
PLINY THE YOUNGER
hour), according to the weather, I either walk upon my terrace or
in the covered portico, and there I continue to meditate or dictate
what remains upon the subject in which I am engaged. This
completed, I get into my chariot, where I employ myself as before,
when I was walking or in my study; and find this change of
scene refreshes and keeps up my attention. On my return home
I take a little nap, then a walk, and after that repeat out loud
and distinctly some Greck or Latin speech, not so much for the
sake of strengthening my voice as my digestion; though indeed
the voice at the same time is strengthened by this practice. I
then take another walk, am anointed, do my exercises, and go
into the bath. At supper, if I have only my wife or a few
friends with me, some author is read to us; and after supper
we are entertained either with music or an interlude. When that
is finished I take my walk with my family, among whom I am
not without some scholars. Thus we pass our evenings in varied
conversation; and the day, even when at the longest, steals im-
perceptibly away. Upon some occasions I change the order in
certain of the articles above mentioned. For instance, if I have
studied longer or walked more than usual, after my second sleep
and reading a speech or two aloud, instead of using my chariot
I get on horseback; by which means I insure as much exercise
and lose less time. The visits of my friends from the neighbor-
ing villages claim some part of the day; and sometimes, by an
agreeable interruption, they come in very seasonably to relieve
me when I am feeling tired. I now and then amuse myself with
hunting; but always take my tablets into the field, that if I
should meet with no game, I may at least bring home something.
Part of my time, too (though not so much as they desire), is
allotted to my tenants; whose rustic complaints, along with these
city occupations, make my literary studies still more delightful to
me. Farewell.
TO THE EMPEROR TRAJAN: OF THE CHRISTIANS
From the 'Letters'
IT
Is my invariable rule, sir, to refer to you in all matters
where I feel doubtful; for who is more capable of removing
my scruples, or informing my ignorance? Having never been
present at any trials concerning those who profess Christianity, I
am unacquainted not only with the nature of their crimes, or the


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PLINY THE YOUNGER
11599
measure of their punishment, but how far it is proper to enter
into an examination concerning them. Whether, therefore, any
difference is usually made with respect to ages, or no distinc-
tion is to be observed between the young and the adult; whether
repentance entitles them to a pardon, or if a man has been once
a Christian it avails nothing to desist from his error; whether the
very profession of Christianity, unattended with any criminal act,
or only the crimes themselves inherent in the profession, are pun-
ishable, on all these points I am in great doubt. In the mean
while, the method I have observed towards those who have been
brought before me as Christians is this: I asked them whether
they were Christians: if they admitted it, I repeated the question
twice and threatened them with punishment; if they persisted, I
ordered them to be at once punished,- for I was persuaded,
whatever the nature of their opinions might be, a contumacious
and inflexible obstinacy certainly deserved correction. There were
others also brought before me possessed with the same infatua-
tion; but being Roman citizens, I directed them to be sent to
Rome. But this crime spreading (as is usually the case), while
it was actually under prosecution several instances of the same
nature occurred. An anonymous information was laid before
me, containing a charge against several persons, who upon exam-
ination denied they were Christians, or had ever been so.
They
repeated after me an invocation to the gods, and offered religious
rites with wine and incense before your statue (which for that
purpose I had ordered to be brought, together with those of the
gods), and even reviled the name of Christ; whereas there is no
forcing, it is said, those who are really Christians into any of
these compliances: I thought it proper, therefore, to discharge
them. Some among those who were accused by a witness in
person at first confessed themselves Christians, but immediately
after denied it; the rest owned indeed that they had been of that
number formerly, but had now (some above three, others more,
and a few above twenty years ago) renounced that error. They
all worshiped your statue and the images of the gods, uttering
imprecations at the same time against the name of Christ. They
affirmed that the whole of their guilt, or their error, was, that
they met on a stated day before it was light, and addressed a
form of prayer to Christ as to a divinity, binding themselves by a
solemn oath, not for the purpose of any wicked design, but never
to commit any fraud, theft, or adultery, never to falsify their
―


## p. 11600 (#214) ##########################################

11600
PLINY THE YOUNGER
word, nor deny a trust when they should be called on to deliver
it up; after which it was their custom to separate, and then re-
assemble, to eat in common a harmless meal. From this custom,
however, they desisted after the publication of my edict, by which,
according to your commands, I forbade the meeting of any assem-
blies. After receiving this account I judged it so much the more
necessary to endeavor to extort the real truth, by putting two
female slaves to the torture, who were said to officiate in their
religious rites; but all I could discover was evidence of an absurd
and extravagant superstition. I deemed it expedient therefore
to adjourn all further proceedings, in order to consult you. For
it appears to be a matter highly deserving your consideration,
more especially as great numbers must be involved in the danger
of these prosecutions, which have already extended, and are still
likely to extend, to persons of all ranks and ages, and even of
both sexes. In fact, this contagious superstition is not confined
to the cities only, but has spread its infection among the neigh-
boring villages and country. Nevertheless, it still seems possible
to restrain its progress. The temples, at least, which were once
almost deserted, begin now to be frequented; and the sacred
rites, after a long intermission, are again revived; while there is
a general demand for the victims, which till lately found very
few purchasers. From all this it is easy to conjecture what
numbers might be reclaimed if a general pardon were granted to
those who shall repent of their error.
[The answer of the Emperor to Pliny was as follows: -]
You have adopted the right course, my dearest Secundus, in
investigating the charges against the Christians who were brought
before you.
It is not possible to lay down any general rule.
for all such cases. Do not go out of your way to look for them.
If indeed they should be brought before you, and the crime
is proved, they must be punished; with the restriction, however,
that where the party denies he is a Christian, and shall make it
evident that he is not, by invoking our gods, let him (notwith-
standing any former suspicion) be pardoned upon his repentance.
Anonymous informations ought not to be received in any sort of
prosecution. It is introducing a very dangerous precedent, and
is quite foreign to the spirit of our age.


## p. 11601 (#215) ##########################################

11601
PLUTARCH
(ABOUT 50-120 A. D. )
BY EDWARD BULL CLAPP
TUDY your Plutarch, and paint," said the great French classi-
cist to his pupil. The advice was sound; for though the
unequaled literature of Greece boasts of many names more
illustrious than Plutarch's for original genius and power, yet the
world in general has drawn from him, more than from any other
source, its conception of the heroic men of Greece and Rome.
"He
was one of Plutarch's men," is the eulogy often spoken over the
grave of some statesman or general whose rugged grandeur of char-
acter seems to harmonize with the splendid portraits drawn for us
by the old Greek biographer. And so, although this author does not
occupy the very highest place either as philosopher or historian, yet
there are few ancient writers who are more interesting or important
than he.
We know but little of his life. He was born about half a century
after the beginning of our era, at Chæronea in Boeotia; a portion
of Hellas popularly credited with intellectual dullness, though the
names of Pindar and Epaminondas go far to vindicate its fame. He
seems to have spent some time at Rome, and in other parts of Italy;
but he returned to Greece in his later years, closing his life about
the year 120. He thus lived under the Roman emperors from Nero
to Trajan, and was contemporary with Tacitus and the Plinys. It
is remarkable, however, that he does not quote from any of the great
Romans of his time; nor do they, in turn, make any mention of him.
Greece had at this time long since lost her political independence.
Even in literature her creative genius had spent itself, and in its
place had come the period of elegant finish and laborious scholar-
ship. Alexandria, which had supplanted Athens as the intellectual
centre of the world, was now herself beginning to yield precedence
to all-conquering Rome. Theocritus, the last Greek poet of the
highest rank, had died nearly three centuries before, while Lucian,
the gifted reviver of Attic prose, was yet to come. The only other
Greek writer of this period whose works have been widely popular
was the Hebrew Josephus, who was a few years older than Plutarch.
Born of a wealthy and respected family, and living the peaceful
and happy life of the scholar and writer, Plutarch was the faithful
XX-726


## p. 11602 (#216) ##########################################

11602
PLUTARCH
exponent of the literary tendencies in his time. His knowledge of
Greek literature was apparently boundless; and his writings are en-
riched by numerous quotations, many of which are from works which
are lost to us, so that these remnants are of the greatest value. In
all that he wrote we see the evidence of a mind well stocked with
the varied learning of his day, interested and curious about a great
variety of problems, fond of moral and philosophical reflections, but
not the originator of new views, nor even the advocate of any dis-
tinct system in philosophy. We admire his sweetness and purity of
character, his culture of mind and heart, and his wide knowledge
of men and life, rather than the depth of his thought or the soaring
height of his genius.
The writings of Plutarch fall naturally into two classes: the
historical and the ethical. The chief work in the first class is the
'Parallel Lives,' consisting of forty-six biographies arranged in pairs,
the life of a Greek being followed in each case by the life of a
Roman. Nineteen of these double biographies are accompanied in
our text by comparisons of the two characters depicted, though these
are probably spurious, and not the work of Plutarch. In this juxta-
position of the great men of the conquered and the conquering race
we recognize the patriotic pride of the Greek biographer. Living at
a time when his country was in servitude to Rome, he delighted in
showing that Greece too, in her palmy days, had produced warriors
and statesmen who were worthy to stand in company with the men
who had made Rome the mistress of the world. In the selection
of his pairs Plutarch was guided, to some extent at least, by a real
or fancied resemblance in the public careers of his heroes. Thus
he groups together Theseus and Romulus as legendary founders of
States, Lycurgus and Numa Pompilius as mythical legislators, Demos-
thenes and Cicero as orators and statesmen. But in many cases, it
must be confessed, the resemblance is slight or entirely wanting.
As a writer of biography the world has scarcely seen the superior
of Plutarch. To be sure, his methods of historical research were
not severely critical, and modern scholars are forced to use his state-
ments with some degree of caution. But it is biography that he
means to write, and not history; and his clear conception of the dif-
ference in spirit between the two forms of composition has done much
to give his 'Lives' their boundless popularity. His purpose was to
portray character rather than narrate events. For this purpose the
many personal touches which he introduces, the anecdotes which he
repeats without too close a scrutiny, are of more value than many
pages of meaningless events, however accurately told. He distinctly
states in his life of Nicias that he will pass over much that is told
by Thucydides, while he endeavors to "gather and propound things
not commonly marked and known, which will serve, I doubt not, to


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decipher the man and his nature. " None of Plutarch's anecdotes
are empty or pointless. They always help to light up the character
which he is describing, and many of them are treasures which we
could ill afford to spare.
But besides these bits of personal character, Plutarch abounds in
grand historical pictures of a sober eloquence, which touches us all
the more because of the severe self-restraint which the writer never
lays aside. He never strives for pathos or dramatic effect; and when
he thrills his reader it is the result of a passionate earnestness, like
that of Thucydides, which cannot be concealed.
In the light of what has been said, it is easy to understand why
the 'Lives' has been perhaps the most widely beloved among all the
literary treasures of Greece. Statesmen and generals, poets and phi-
losophers, alike have expressed their admiration for this book, and the
traces of its influence are to be found everywhere in modern liter-
ature.
The English translation by Sir Thomas North, published in 1579,
though it was not made from the original Greek, but from the great
French version of Amyot, and though it abounds in errors, is yet a
work of the utmost importance, both as a specimen of vigorous and
racy English, and because it is the channel through which Plutarch
became known to the writers of the Elizabethan age, and especially
to Shakespeare. Shakespeare knew no Greek, and his acquaintance
with Plutarch, and through him with the spirit of ancient life, must
be due chiefly to Sir Thomas North. Three of his greatest plays,
'Coriolanus,' 'Julius Cæsar,' and 'Antony and Cleopatra,' are based
on the 'Lives' to such an extent that it is not too much to say
that they would not have been written had not Shakespeare made the
acquaintance of the old Greek biographer. This is especially true of
Julius Cæsar,' in which not merely are the incidents due to Plutarch,
but even much of the language is suggested by Sir Thomas North.
Many other English writers have given us pictures of ancient life,
whose inspiration is plainly drawn from the same abundant source.
As hinted above, Plutarch is not a critical historian according
to modern standards.