Skip to main content

Full text of "Elegant epistles, being a copious collection of familiar and amusing letters, selected for the improvement of young persons, and for general entertainment"

See other formats

.TGcquest ot 

IRcv. lb. C. Sca^^ino, "2).H). 

to tbc libran} 
ot tbe 

\lni\Kr9it\) of Toronto 




Digitized by the Internet Archive 

in 2011 with funding from 

University of Toronto 

rnhli^fl Jiih- / j.y. - ^i- .l..\Lt^,n,in .' d„ r,.U .t tit, Jy.f.ier. 

■t/ ihr .1 M'Imjnt , If. J. ,ni.i J. Ri.9,.ir.h,v, . r.Mi.f i : Ki%u,,it,ii , A'. KuUJfr, Chirkr aiiJ J,iu, CnAi'ff inJ \Lirtht ; J. Ifhib- ; K-f-OfruJn, 
'<lku ML.1 J. a.^-m^ti ; J naa;T: Jl.J).Svni.;iJ.<. i:„Ml ,n,./ A/i7,;r, .C-.o'.*.«/ ,//^/^,.m : r^jii.r, /J.vJ ■"i.i Sharj^fj i:.Kf.mhr! W. 

V„«„.D,, t;. /i.iirMvi, A.lA:J.y .m./ li,, JujiJ .l./r.¥t. I}.W.M.T, S.fia.>it.r, .1. Hal./ui.d i U H,.rJin.,: Il- M.^.^rr/; flWrn.- X- Am, 
uBif^. .1. M, . R-DuiLnL , \l B^t^i T. OttM. J- ^ .[ffarriii P.ii-n^ mid M.uUiuJav. S Tiri'.r. J- Mt.m,,. C A R. R,l.l»iu 
g..\',-/u>l.-vi ,niJ r\'r Ulhoti lUiJ ifi-^tice. York- 










(General OBntcttainment, 













} POPE, 



































Printed by fT. Flint, Old Bailey, 

For J. Johnson ; W. J. and J. Richardson; F, and C. Rivington ; R. Faulder j Clarke and Sons j 
Culhell and Martin ; J.White; W. Lowndes; G.Wilkie and J. Robinson; J.Walker; H.D.Syinouds; 
Cadell and Davirs ; Scatcherd and Letterman ; Vernor, Hood, andSharpe; G. Kearsley ; \v\ 
Miller; J. Numi ; Lonsrman, Hurst, Rees, and Orme ; Mathews and Leigh ; Lackineton, Allen, 
9ndCo. ; Potc and Williams; T. Boosey ; Lane and Newman ; G. l?Qbinson; 13. Crosby and Co. j 
J. and A. Arch; D.Walker; S. Bagster; J. Hatchard ; J.Harding; W^. Stewart ; Wynne and Son j 
R. Phillips; J. Mawman ; R. Diitton ; J. Booker; T. Ostell ; J. Aspeme ; J. Hairis ; Payne and 
Mackialay ; S. Tipper ; J. Murray ; C. and R. Baldwin ; R, Scholey ; and Wilsuu auJ Sppnce.Vork. 



fTnilE following Collection of Letters is a part of a design, which the 
•*" Editor had formed, to select and publish, in lar^e volumes, such 
compositions, both in verse and prose, as he judged might be useful to 
young persons, by conducing to their improvement in their own language, 
whde they were cultivating an acquaintance with the ancients, and pur- 
suing all otlier accomplishments of a liberal education. 

The two first parts of his plan. Elegant Extracts in Prose and I'oetry, 
already published, and repeatedly primed, have been received with a de^ee 
of favour, which evinces that the preconceived idea of their utility has been 
amply confirmed by the decisions of experience. 

Animated by their good reception, the Editor determined to proceed in 
his design, and to add, in a similar volume, a copious Collection of Letters. 
It occurred to him, that no literary exercise is in such constant recnest as 
Letter-writing. All are not to be Poets, Orators, or Historians ; but all, at 
least above the lowest rank, are to be sometimes Letter-writers. The dailv 
intercourse of common life cannot be duly preserved without this mode of 
communication. That much pleasure, and much advantao-e, of various 
kinds, is derived from it, is obvious and inconlestible. Everv emer- 
gence furnishes occasion for it. It is necessary to friendship, and to love; 
to interest, and to ambition. In every pursuit, and in every department of 
polished life, to write Letters is an indispensable requisite; and to write 
them well, a powerful recommendation. By epistolary correspondence 
the most important business, commercial, political, and private, is usuallv 
transacted. Who is there, who at some period of his life, finds it not of con- 
sequence to him to draw up an address with propriety, to narrate an event, 
to describe a character faithfully, or to write letters of compliment, condo- 

a 2 lence. 



Itncc, or congralulalion ? Many natives of this country spend their youth 
in foreign cliracs. How greatly does it contribute to raise their characters 
at home, uhon thev are ahle to write judicious letters lo their relations, 
iheir friends, their patrons, and their employers? . A clear, a discreet, and 
an elegant letter, establishes their character in their native country, while 
perhaps their persons are at the distance of the antipodes, raises esteem 
among all who read it, and often lays a foundation for future eminence. 
It goes before ihem, like a pioneer, and smooths the road, and levels thQ 
liili that leads up lo honour and to fortune. 

Add to these considerations, that, as an easy exercise to improve the 
style, and prepare for that composition, which several of the professions 
require, nothing is more advantageous than the practice of letter- writing^ 
at an early age. 

In every view of the subject, letter-writing appeared lo the Editor so 
useful and important, that he thought he could not render a more accept- 
able service to young students, than to present them with a great variety of, 
epistolary models, comprized, for tlieir more convenient use, in one capa- 
cious volume; Models in art are certainly more instructive than rules; as 
examples in life are more efficacious than precepts. Rules indeed for letter. 
\\'riting, of which there is a great abundance, appear to be little more than 
the idle effusions of pedantry ; the superfluous inventions of ingenuity mis 
employed. The letters, which the writers of rules have given as example.' 
for imitation, are often nothing more than mere centos in the expression 
and servile copies in the sentiments. They have nothing in them of th< 
healthy hue and lively vigour of nature. They resemble puny plants raisei 
in a dime ungenial, by the gardener's incessant labour, yet possessing, af 
ter all, neither beauty, flavour, nor stamina for duration. 

The few rules necessary in the art, as it is called, of Letter-writing, ar 
such as will always be prescribed to itself, by a competept share of commo 
sense, duly informed by a common education. A regard must always b 
shewn to lime, place, and person. He who has good sense will of cours 
observe these things; and he who has it not, will not learn to obsen 
them by the rules of rhetoricians. But to assist invention and to promo 
order, it may be sometimes expedient to make, in the mind, a division of 
Letter into three parts, the Aristotelian heginning, middle, and end: or 
other words, into tlie exordium or introdi^ction, the statement, propositic 
or narrati' e, and the conclusion. 


The exordium or inlroduclion should be employed, not iodeed with the 
formality of rhetoric, but with the ease of naiural politeness and bene- 
volence, in conciliating esteem, favour, and attention; the proposition or 
narrative, io staling the business with clearness and precision ; the conclu- 
sion, in confirming what has been premised, in making apolof^ies, in ex- 
tenuating oflence, and in cordial expressions of respect and affection: but 
is there any thing in these precepts not already obvious to common sense? 

Ai to the epistolary style, of which so much has been said, those who 
vish to confine it to the easy and familiar have formed too narrow ideas 
of epistolary composition. The Epistle admits every subject: and every 
subject htts its appropriate style. Ease is not to be confounded with negli- 
gence. In the most familiar Leller on the commonest subject, an Attic 
neatness is required. Ease in writing, like ease in dress, notwithstandino- 
all its charms, is but too apt to degenerate to the carelessness of the sloven. 
In the daily attire of a gentleman, gold lace may not be requisite; but rao-s 
or filth, are still less to be borne. In the face, paint is not to be approved ; 
but cleanliness cannot be neglected, without occasioning still greater dis« 
^ust than rouge and ceruse. 

That epistolary style is clearly the best, whether easy or elaborate, simple 
or adorned, which is best adapted to the subject, to time, to place, and to 
person; which, upon grave and momentous topics, is solemn and dignified ; 
on common themes, terse, easy, and only not careless; on little and trifling 
matters, gay, airN', lively, and facetious; on jocular subjects, sparkling and 
humorous; in formal and complimentary addresses, embellished with 
rhetorical figures, and finished will) polished periods; in persuasion, bland, 
insinuating, and ardent; in exhortation, serious and sententious; on pros- 
perous affairs, open and joyous; on adverse, pensive and tender. A differ* 
cnt style is often necessary on the same topics, to old people and to young. 
to men and to women ; to rich and to poor ; to the great, and to the 
little; to scholars and to the illiterate; to strangers and to familiar com- 
panions. And thus indeed might one proceed to great extent with all 
the parade of precept; but though this, and much more that might be 
repeated, may be certainly true, yet it is all suflSciently obvious to that 
COMMON SENSE, whosc claims ought at all times tp be asserted against the 
encroachments of pedantic tyranny*. 

A good 
■' Tte vrites on the epistolary art divide Epistles into various kinds : 

VI 11 

P R E F A C K. 

A good underslandiDg, as it has been already observed, iiDproved by 
reading the best wrilers, by accurate observation of men and uiauners, 
and above .11, by use and praclit'e, will be sisfTicient to lorm ali ac- 
complished liC Iter- writer, without restraining the vigour of his genius, and 
the riighti of h\i fancy, by a rigid observance of the line and rule. The 
best Letters, and indeed the best compositions of every kind, were produced 
before the boasicd rules to teach how to write liiem were written or in- 
vented. The rules prescribed by critics for writing Letters are so tninule 
and particular, as to remind one of the recipts in Hannah Glasse's Cookery- 
They pretend to teach how to express tlioughls on paper with a mechanical 
process, similar to that in which ihe culinary authoress instructs her dis- 
ciples in the composition of a minced-pye. 

It is indeed a remark, confirmed by long experience, that merchants, 
men cf business, and particularly the ladies, who have never read, or 
even heard of the rules of an Erasmus, a riteSy a MeUhior Jutiius, or a 
Lipsins, wr;U letters with admirable ease, perspicuity, propriety, and ele- 
gance ; far buter, in every respect, than some of the most celebrated dic- 
tators of rules to teach that epistolary correspondence, which themselveti 
could never suceessfully practise. The learned Manutius, who had studied 
every rule, used to employ a month in writing a Letter of moderate }en«-th 
which many an English lady could surpass in an hour. 

It may not be improper in this place to meniion, for the honour of the 
ladies, that, according to learned authors, the very first Letter that was ever 
written, was written by a lady. Clemens Jlexandrinus and 'Tatian also, who 
copies from Hellanicus the historian*, expressly affirm, that the first Epistle 
ever composed was the production of Atossa, a i'ersian Empress. The iearn- 


epistolj*: sunt. 
CommfndaUt'cc—CummmkatoriaE—Cohvrtatvria:, rjub pertinent^Suasorice Dissua 

tuiia—Laudatorict—iieprehensoricE—Giatiarmi actioncs—Xtu-cupaluria; sen Bedi a 
toria—Acciisatnna scu txpodulntorue—Q.eruJa: S^ i'ldisnatunw—Comwinatun^S. 
Nunciatunce — Demtticiatoria-— Jlni ^mutua' Juvusce. 

But these (iislinctions (\i.^U\y of ostentation than they lurmsh of utilifr 
Every man mu*t know the lendmcy of his Letter, from which it takes ?rl 
technical name, though he may not have heard the rheturician's «npeJIaiion"of r 
To persons, however, who roa.l with a critical eye, it may not be unpleasant to 
class letters under some cf the titles in the ahove table, which it would be ea.v Z 
enlarge, J *•" 

1 refer the reader, who is curious to learn what critics have written on the arr nf 

wruing lettrrs to Erasmu. s very ingenious treatise, '^ JJe co,,scnl>emiis E.isioL'' 

\ 7u f T'l. *";;^"^'*'." ^'"'- '^ '^- genius of KrHMnus mj, a sun- 

>hine over the dreary fields of didactic inlormation. 

AT^o-ffa •! 8irt^« avrjj »,». lATlAN. Urat. Contra C>ia;iu5. '^«»^., 


;d Dodwell, as well as others, controverts the fact; and many suppose that 
he Letter which Homer's Prajlus gave to Bellerophon, as well as inai u Inch 
David sent to accomplish the Dealhof Uiiuh, preceded the Letter ot Aiossa. 
A'ithout entering into a chronological discussion, one may assert the proha- 
jility, that a lady was the first writer of Letters; as ladies have, in modern 
lines, displayed peculiar grace and spirit in epistolary correspondence. 
Oodwell's opinion required not the learning of Dodwell to support it, when 
it supposes that Epistles were written in some form or other, as soon as the 
HI L of marking thoughts by written signs was discovered and divulged. 

But instead of dwelling any longer on topics, either obvious of them- 
itlves, or rather curious than useful, it is more expedient to inform the 
lieader, what he is to expect in the subsequent volume. 

The First Book in the collection is formed from the Letters of Cicero and 
Pliny. To attempt to raise their characters by praises at this period, after 
die world has agreed in the admiration of them near two thousand years, 
ivould be no less superfluous, than to pronounce an eulogium on the sun, or 
tM describe the beauties of the rainbow. From them their most entertaining 
[.cLters, and such as have a reference to familiar life, have been prfncipally 
selected ; and there is little doubt, but that an attentive student, noc defi- 
cient in ability, may catch from the perusal of what is here inserted, much 
oi'tlieir politeness both of sentiment and expression. If he possesses taste, he 
Miiist be entertained by them, it is but justice to add, that great praise is 
iliie to the translator, whose polished understanding seems to have assimi- 
lated the grace of his celebrated originals. The First Book, constituting a 
very important part of the collection, and furnishing the finest epistolary 
ii}adels in the world, has been rendered for the benefit of the student abun- 
dantly copious, though confined to the Letters of Cicero and Pliny. 

The next Book consists of Letters from many great and distinguished p-?r- 
sons of out own nation, written at an early period of English literature. 

The correspondence of the Sydney family forms one part of it. T<k 
the generality of readers this will be new and curious, as it was never pub- 
lished but in expensive folios. The Sydney family appears to have been, 
in their time, the most enlightened, polished, and virtuous, which the 
nation could boast. Many of their Letters are written in a strong, a ner- 
vous, and, in many respects, an excellent style for the age ; and all that 
are here selected may be considered as curiosities, furnishing matter for 



speculation on tlie langii.ii^re and cu-loms of persons in Ijigli rank, at l1l€ 
period in which tlHiy wltc composed. It is a recomiuendalion of them, 
tliat they are genuine Family Letters, not studiously laboured, like those of 
professed \A' its and Letter-writers, but wriut'n in perfi'ct confidence, and 
witliout the least idea of their future puhhoation. But as old language 
is certainly not a model for young studcut* in the present day, it must be 
ren»emberedlbat this compilation pTofcsses, ni its title page, to be design- 
ed for GENERAL ENTERTAINMENT, US Well as for the pcrusal and improve- 
ment of those who arc in the course of their education. 

The Letters of the celebrated Howel*, which form another considera- 
ble portion of the Second Book, cannot fail of affording, in addition to the 
instruction of the student, much amusement to the more advanced reader, 
who inspects the volume merely to pass avvny his vacant hours. Hower« 
Letters were, at one time, extremely popular. They have passed through 
many editions. Their wit, vivacity, and frankness, render them more 
pleasing tlian many, more modern and more exact compositions. Several 
celebrated Collections of Letters, more correct and finished, have in them 
less wit, less 6re, less spirit, fewer ideas, and scantier information. 

Lady Rachel Russell's Letters are inserted in the Second Book, and musi 
be allowed to constitute a very useful and ornamental part of it. Ther 
Lave been much admired by persons of taste and sensibility, both for their 
thoughts and their diction. Piety and conjugal affection, expressed in 
language, considering the time of its composition, so pure and proper, 
cannot but afford a fiue example to the female aspirants after delicacv 
virtue, taste, and whatever is excellent and laudable in the wife, the widow 
and the mother. Such patterns in high life cannot fail of becoming 
"beneficial in proportion as they are more known and belter observed. 


■• The following is the opinion of Alorhof, a learned critic, concerning the 
Letters of Howell, which were first published in 1645 : 

Noo debent hie quoque omitti Jacobx Howel, Equitis Angli, et Secretarii 
"Regu, Epistole fatniliares ... Mixta hie sunt r.egotiis civilibus literaria, mngnaout 
ilia rarissimarum rerum rarietus mirijul Icgeiilem dekctat. Agitur hie de rebui 
Angiitis, Gallicis, Italicis, Gennanicis, Hibpanicis, Belgicis, Danicis, Suecicis, und^ 
multa ad historiam eorum temporuin observari possunt. Insperguntur nbnnun- 
tjuam poetici sales et facetiie- Physica et medica non omittuntur. De rebus 
literariis disquiritur. Histoiia; rariores narrantur. Characteres et lineamenta 
virorum iliuitriuin et doctoruni, tam in Anglia, quam in aiiis locis, ab illo propo- 
iiuntur. Elucet denique ex stylo varia et elegans eruditio. , . . Infinita propemo. 
dum hie occuirunt observutione dignissiina. Quare v\\efsi pretiuin faceret, qui 
has Epibtolas in linguam vel Laliuam vel GermaDicam converteiet. 

l^oLYuisT. Lit. lib. ii. cap, 24. 


The very names indeed of those whose Letters furnish this and the re- 
Wainini; Books, are of themselves a suflicient rccoinmendalion of thcni,- 
Locke, Shaflesbury, Pope, Swift, Addison, and a long list of others, besides 
those enumerated in the title-page, require only to be announced to gain a 
welcome reception. To dwell on the character and excellencies of each 
would be to abuse the Reader's patience. Most of ihein are of that exalted 
and established raok, which praise cannot now elevate^ nor censure degrade. 

Since then, the authors, whose Letters fill this volume, are able to speak 
so powerfully for themselves, why should the Reader be detained by a longer 
Preface from better entertainment? Things intrinsically good will be 
duly appreciated by a discerning Public, and require not the ostentatioug 
display of a florid encomium. If the Letters here selected were the Letter^ 
of obscure men, a recommendatory inlioduclion might be necessary to their 
ready admission ; but they are the Letters of men high in rank, high ia 
fame, high in every quality which can excite and reward the attention of 
a nation, of which most of them have been at once the ornaments and the 
luminaries. Here indeed, like the setting sun, they shine with a softer 
radiance than in their more studied works ; retaining, however, their beauty 
and magnitude undiminished, though their meridian fervour is abated. 
Associated in this Compilation, they unite their orbs, and form a galaxy: 
They charm with a mild, difi'usive light, though they no longer dazzle 
with a noon-day splendour. 

But it is time to conclude, since to proceed in recommending those who 
recommend themselves, is but an officious ceremony,* ye: 'he Editor, before 
he withdraws himself, begs leave to ask the Reader one question: Would 
he not think it a pleasure and a happiness, beyond the power of adequate 
estimation, to be able to sit down whenever he pleases, and enjoy, at his 
fire-side, the conversation of Cicero and Pliny, of the noble Sydneys, of 
the lively Howel, of Pope, of Gray, of Sterne, of Johnson, and of all 
the other illustrious persons, whose familiar, unstudied Letters, fill the 
volume before him ? That pleasure, and that happiness, however great, 
he may here actually enjoy in as great perfection, as is now possible, 
Since death has silenced their eloquent tongues. By a very slight effort of 
magiiiation, he may suppose himself, while he revolves tliese pages, ia 
the midst of the intelligent, cheerful, social circle; and when satisfied 
with the familiar conversation of one, turn to another, equally excellent 
and entertaining in his way, though on a different subject, and in a 
diversified style. Happy intercours?, remote from care, from strife, fro:a 
envy ! and happy they who have leisure, sense, and taste, (o relish it ! 




That a saiisfaetion so pure and so exalted, may be enjoyed from this 
altempt, is the sincere wish of the Editor, who ventures to express a hope, 
that if much is done for the Reader's entertainment, he wdl not complaiu 
that more has not been accoinphshed, bnt view excellence with due appro- 
bation, and defect with good-uatnred indulgence. 

*^* To this Edition is added, in the place of (he Jppendix, which COU' 
iisted of Translations from the French, a very copious Collection of Original 
Tetters, sclteiidjroni Books puhlislud, for tJie most part, since the former 
Editions. It is not doubted, hut that this Suhstitution of English Origi- 
tic/s, for Translations from the Trench, will be highly acceptable; especialij/, 
as the Letters inserted are hu Authors of high repute ; and, from their rc^ 
cent Fuilication, must nith many, have the grace of novelty' 

Tunbridge, Serf. 15, 1S07. 


BOOK I. Ancient Letters. 


From the Letters of Marcus Tui.lius Cicero 
to several of his Friends^ as translated by 
William Melmotb, Esq. 

1 rpO Terehtia, to my dearest Tulli 
•*• and to my son 


2 From the same to the same 


3 From the same to the same 


4 To Teicntia 


i To Piiblius Lentulus, Proconsul 


1} To the same 


7 To Lucius Lucceius 


8 To Marcus Marius - ' - 


9 To Marcus Liciuius Crassus 


10 To Julius Cffisar 


1 1 To Trebatius 


1 2 To the same 


1 3 To the same 


1 4 To the same 


1 5 To the same 


16 To the same 


17 To Quiatus Philippus, Proconsul 


18 To Lucius Valerius, the Lawyer - 


19 To Caius Curio 


20 To Trebatius 


21 To the same 


22 To Caius Curio 


23 To Trebatius 


24 To Caius Curio 


^.') To Trebatius 


2t> To Caius Curio 


2 / To Trebatius 


28 To Titus Fadius 


29 To Marcus C»lius 


\}0 To Terentia and Tullia 


31 To Tiro 


32 To the same 


33 To the same 


34 To the same 


35 To Terentia and to Tullii 


3(5 To the same 


37 ToRufijs 




38 To Terentia 


39 To the same - 


10 To the same 


41 To the same 


42 To the same 


43 To the same 


44 To the same 


45 To the same 


46 ToTitius 


4 7 To Terentia 


48 To the same 


49 To the same 


50 To the same 


bl To tl)e same 


52 To the same 


b^ To the same 


64 To the same 


53 To the same 


56 To Trcbonius 


57 To Lucius Papirius Paetus 


58 To Lucius Mescinius 


59 To Varro 


60 To the same 


51 To the same 


62 To Papirius Paetus 


C3 To Volumnius 


64 To Papirius Pffitus 


65 To Callus 


Qo To Ca?sar 


67 To the same 


68 Quintus Cicero to Marcus Cicero 


69 To Tiro 


70 To Dolabella 


71 i-erviusSulpicius to Cicero 


72 To Servius Sulpicius 


73 To Lucius Lucceius 

■ 49 

74 Lucceius to Cicero 


75 To Lucius Lucceius 


76 To Tiro 


77 To the same 


78 To Matins 


79 Matius to Cicero 


80 Cicero the son, to his dearest Tiro 

• 55 

81 From the same to Tiro 




l>tm the Letters of Pliny */:<• Contul, to se- 
rcrul of his Friends, «> Iramlaled l>j/ W'il- 
liani .Melmoth, Etq. 


1 To Caninius Tlufiu 

2 To Pi)m|M-ia Colerlna 
S To f oriu This Tacitus 

4 To Minutius Fimdiinus 

5 To AtriusCIfiiK-ns 

6 ToCalcstritjsTilo 

7 To Junius Mauricuj 
S To Soptitius Clarus 
9 To F.rucius 

10 To Cornelius Tacitus 

1 1 To C.itilius Scverus 

12 To Bcbius 

13 To Vocoiiius Romaaus 

14 To Paulinug 

15 To \epos 

16 To Caninius . 

17 ToOctavius 

18 To Priscus 

19 To Valcrianus 

50 To Callus 

51 To Mauricus » 

22 To Cerealis 

23 To CaWisiug 

24 To Hispulla 

25 To Ma<er 
S6 To Sevcrus 

27 To Tranquillus 

28 To Catilins 

29 To Proculus 

50 To Nepos • 

51 To Servianus • 
Si To Maximui 

33 To Fabatu* 

54 To Cleuiens 

55 To Antoninus • 

56 To Naso • 
37 To Lepidus 

88 To Cornelius Tacitus 
59 To Valerius Paulinug 
4U To Callus 


















1 1 To Tli-tpulla 

4i To Muxim us 

l;} To VcTms Cercalis 

1 1 To V;il(<ns 

Ij I'o Maxiruus 

•!() To \i''p(»s 

17 'i'o I.iciiiius 

4 8 To Maxinuis 

•19 To Apollinaris 

50 To Capilo 

.')! To Saluniiiuu 

5 'J To Fa bat us 

53 To Marcc^ilinus 

54 To Spurinna 

55 To Macer 

56 To Paulinus 

57 To Calpliurnia 

58 To the same 

59 ToAibinus 

60 To Maxinius 
Gl To Mauricus 

62 To llonianus 

63 To Tacitus 

64 To Cornelius Taciti 

65 To Triarius 

66 To Servianus 

67 To Pontius 

68 To Quinlilian 

69 To Hestitutus 

70 To Pra?seQs 

71 To Calphurnia 

72 To Tuscus 

73 To Priscus 

74 ToRufus 

75 To Maxiinus 

76 To Genitor 

77 To Ccininius 

78 To Ilbraanus 

79 To Ursus 

80 To Fabatus 

81 ToHispulla 

82 To Minutianus 

83 To Sabiiiianus 

84 To the same 

85 ToFuscus 

86 To the same 










































BOOK II. Modern Letters^ of early Date, 


JHodern^ and of early date. 

letter Pa<re 

1 ^fEEN' Anne BuJlctt to Kinj: Henry 116 
S HT A Letter rom I^dy More to 

Mr. Secretary Cromwell - H' 
fi Lady Stafibrd to Mr, SecretaF} Crom- 
well - - ibid. 
4 Earl of Essex to Queen Elizabeth 1 i 8 
i Lord Chancelli>r EgcrtoQ to the Earl 

of Essex - • 119 

G The Earl's Answer - - 128 

7 Sir Henry Sidney to his son Philip 

Sidney, at school at Shrewsbury, 
An. 1566, 9 Eliz. then being of 
the age of twelve years » 121 

8 Sir Henry Sidney to llobert Dudley, 

Earl of Leicester - 122 

9 The Right Hon. Thomas Sackvil, 

Lord Buckhurst, to Sir Henrj 
Sidney - - 12# 

10 Sir Henry Sidney to Robert Dudley, 

Earl oi^ Leicxjster - ibid. 

11 Sir HcDry Sidney to Queen Eli^abeUi Hi 


letter Page 

^5 Sir Henry Sidney to Mr. Serrctnry 
Walsin;jhan), roncrrnin;; ?lio rc- 
norlsof file Fnrl of Essex's doa'li 125 

13 Sir Henry Sidney to the Lords of the 

Council - - 12/ 

14 Sir Henry Sidney to Iiis son. Robert 

Sidney, afterwards Earl of Lei- 
cester - - iLid. 
J5 Sir Pliilip Sidney to his fallier. Sir 

Henry Sidney . - 129 

16 SirPiiiiip Sidney to Edward Wafer- 

honse, es<]. Secretary of Irela^id ibid. 

17 Sir Philip Sidney to F.ilv.ard Moli- 

neiix,esq. Secretary to his fallier, 

as I ord Deputy - 130 

18 Edwn-d Mi>Iyneux, esq. to Philip 

Sif!;'ev, in answer to the abovc- 
sai(l le'ter r - ibid. 

19 Sir T'cnry Sidney to his son, Sir Phi- 

lip '^idney - - ibid. 

50 Lady Mary Sidney to Edmund Moli- 

neu\, esq. - - ibid. 

51 Sir Henry Sidney to his sop, Robert 

Sidney, afterwards Earl of Lei- * 
cester - - 131 

21 Lady Mary Sidney to Edmund MoK- 

neux, esq. - - ibid. 

23 Sir Henry Sidney to Arthur Lord 
Grey, Lord Deputy of Irelind; 
how to proceed in his govern- 
mcnl of that kingdom - 132 

2i Sir Philip Sidney to his brother, 
Robert Sidney, who was the first 
Earl of Leicester of that name 135 

25 Sir Philip Sidney to Queen Elizabeth, 

anno 1 580, persuading her not to 
marry with the Duke of Anjou 137 

26 Sir Philip Sidney to Edmund Moli- 

neux, esq. - - 143 

27 From the same to the sartie ibid. 

28 Sir Philip Sidney to William Lord 

Burleigh - - ibid. 

59 Sir Pliilip Sidney to Sir Edward Slaf- 

ford - - ibid. 

30 Thomas Lord Buckhurst to Robert 

Dudley, Earl of Leicester, on the 

death of Sir Philip Sidney ibid. 

W Sir Henry Hobarf,Kut. and Baronet, 

Lord Chief Justice, to Rooert 

Earl of Leicester - 144 

32 Dor()thy, Countess of Leicester, to 

the Earl ber husband - 145 

53 From the same to the same ibid. 

34 From the same to the same ^ 146 
55 From the same to the same 147 

36 From the same to the same - 14? 

37 From l;he same to the same - 149 

38 From the same to the same - ibid. 

39 The Lady Dorothy Sidney (after- 

wards Countess of Sunderlan'D to 
her father, Robert Earl of Lei- 
cester - - 50 

40 Robert, Lord Spencer, to his Lady, 

Dorothy, datio;hter of Robert 
Earl of Leicester. Most of it in 
cypher, and decyphcred - ibid. 

Letter Pa»e 

41 Robert, Lord Spenfcr, to his Lady, 

Dorothy, daugliter of Robert 
Earl of Leicester. Most of it in 
cypher, and decyphered - 15| 

42 Fron\ the same to the same - 153 

43 From the same to the same - ibid. 
14 From the same to the same, four 

days before the fight of New- 
berry, where he was slain I5l 

45 Robert P.arl of Leicester to his 

daughter Dorothy, Countess of 
Sunderland, (m the death of the 
Earl her husb.ind, who lost hit 
life, valiantly fighting for King 
Charirs the First, at the battle 
of Newberry, 20th Sept. 1643 15S 

46 Robert Earl of Leicester to the 

Queen, at Oxford, desiring to 
know why he was dismissed 
from the otfice of Lord Lieute- 
nant of Ireland - 154 

47 Algernon Sidney to his father, Ro- 

bert Earl of Leicester - 152 

48 Dr. Sharp to the Duke of Bucking- 

ham ; with Queen Elizabeth'* 
speech to bcr array at Tilbury 
Fort - . Hiiif. 

49 Lord Bacon to James I. - 153 

50 Sir Walter Raleigh to James T. 1jS| 

51 Sir Walter Raleigh to Sir Robert 

Car - - ibid. 

52 Sir Walter Raleigh to Prince Henry, 

son of James L - 160 

53 Lord Bacon to James I. after his dis- 

grace - - ibid, 

54 Lord Baltimore to Lord Wentworth, 

afterwards Earl of Strafford 162 

55 Lord Wentworth, Lord Deputy of 

Ireland, to the Earl of Portfaud, 
Lord Treasurer to Charles I. 16S 

56 Lord Wentworth to Sir William Sa- 

ville - - 164 

57 Lord Wentworth to Archbishop Laud 166 

58 Charles I. to Lord Wentiyorth 167 

59 Charles I. to the Ear! of Strafl'ijrd ibid. 
GO Earl of Strafford to his son - ibid. 

61 James Earl of Derby to Commissary 

General Ireton, in answer to the 
summons sent the Earl to deliver 
up the Isle of Man - 16$ 

62 Charles II. to the Duke of York ibid. 

63 Oliver Cromwell to his son H. Crom- 

well - - 169 

64 Lady Mary Cromwell to H. Crom- 

well - - ibid. 

65 Henry Cromwell to Lord Faulcon- 

berg - - 170 

66 Lord Broghill to Secretary Thurloe ibid. 

67 Henry Cromwell to Richard Crom- 

well, Protector - 171 

63 The Hon. Algernon Sidney to his 

f'iends - - 172 

69 Mr. Boyle to the Countess of Rane- 

lagh , - 173 

70 From the same to the same - 174 

71 From the tame to the same « 175 


J^tpr Pa»e 

72 Mr. Bovlc to Lord Bro-liill - 176 

73 From llic same to Iht- Counfcsi of 

Crrerv, on the Earl's dcutb, ia 
Oct. i679 - - 177 

74 From the .same to the same - 178 

75 Ladv Haiicbj;h lo Mr. Boyle ibid. 

76 Sir \Viiliara Tcm.ile to Sir William 

Coventry - - 179 

77 From the same to Dame Angustine 

Carj - ibid. 

78 From the same to Sir Orlando Bridg- 

m an, Lord Keeper - 180 

79 Barl of Clarrntloii to the Diike of 

York, ou the Duchess's turning 
Catholic - - 181 

RO Earl of Clarendon to the Duchess of 

York, ou the same - 182 

fl The Duchess's Answer - 184 

lliscellaneous, of early date, continued. 

1 From James llowdl, esq. to Sir J. S. 

at I^eds Castle - 187 

2 From the same to his father, upon 

his first gjoing beyond sea 1 88 

3 From the same to Dr. Francis Mph- 

sell, since Principal of Jesus Col- 
lege in OxforJ - ibid. 

4 From the same to Dan. Caldwell, e.sq. 

from Amsterdam - 189 

5 From the same to Mr. Richard 

Altham, at his chamber in Gray's 
Irn - - ibid. 

6 From the same to Captain Francis 

Bacon, from I'aris - ISO 

7 From the same to Richard Ailham, 

est], from Paris - 191 

S From the .same to Sir James Crofts, 

from P-ris - - 192 

S From the ^anie to Mr. Thomas Por- 
ter, after Captain Porter, from 
Barcelona - - 194 

10 From the same to Dr. Francis Man- 

sell, from Valeiitia - ibid. 

1 1 From the same to Christopher Jones, 

e«<j. at Gray's Inn - 195 

12 From the same to Richard Altham, 

esq. - - ibid. 

13 From the same to Robert Brown, 

esq. at the Middle Temple, from 
Venice - - 196 

14 From the same to Christopher Jones, 

esq. at Gray's Inn, from Naples ibid, 

15 From the same to Sir Eubule Theo- 

lall, Knight, and Principal of 
Jesus College in Oxford - 197 

16 From the same to Dan. Caldwell, esq. 

from the Lord Savage's house iii 
LonpMelford - - 198 

1 7 From the same to his brother, Mr. 

Hugh Penry, upon his mar- 
riage - . ibid. 

I S From the sime to Dr. Thomai Pri- 

cBord at Worcester Ilouse ibid. 

Letter Tiige 

19 From James TTowell, esq. to the 

Honourable Mr. John Savage 
(now Earl of Rivers), at Flo- 
rence - - 199 

20 From the same to Dr. Prichard 200 

21 From liie same to his well-beloved 

cousin, Mr. T. V. - ibid. 

22 iTom the same to the Lady Jane 

Savage, Marchioness of Win- 
chester - - 201 

23 From the same to Mr. R. Sc. at 

York - - ibid. 

24 F'rom the same to the Right Ho- 

nourable Lady Scroop, Countess 

of Simderhmd, from Stamford 202 

25 From the same to hiscousiu, Mr. St. 

John, at Christ-church College, 

in Oxford - - 263 

26 From I'lf^ same to Sir J. S. Knight ibid. 

27 From I .e same to his father - 204 

28 Frcii tJie same to his brother, Dr. 

How el, at Jesus College, in 
Oxon - . ibid. 

fi9 Trom the same to R. S. esq. 205 

30 From the same to his father ibid. 

31 From the same to the Right Rev. 

Dr- Field, Lord Bishop of St. 
David's - - ibid. 

32 From the same to Sir Ed, B. Knight 206 

33 From the same to Master Thomas 

Adams - - 208 

34 From the same to his nephew, J. P. 

at St. John's, in Oxford ibid. 

35 From ihe same to the Right Hon. 

the Lady Elizabeth Digby 209 

36 From the same to !ilaster J. H. at 

.St. John's college, i.? Cambridge ibid. 

37 From the same to Mr. E. 0, Conn- 

seller, at Gray's Inn - ibid. 

38 From the same to Mr. Thomas H. 210 

39 From the same to Dr. D. Featly ibid. 

40 From the same to his honoured 

friend. Sir S. C. - ibid. 

4 1 From the same to Master G. Stone 21 2 

42 From the same to J.W. of Gray's 

Inn, escj. - - ibid. 

43 From the same lo Mr. R. K. - ibid. 

44 From the .same to Mr. R. Howard 213 

45 From the same to Sir K. D. at 

Rome - - ibid. 

46 From the same to Mr. En. P. at 

Pans - . 214 

47 From the same to Mr. William Blois 215 

48 From the same to Henry Hopkins, 

esq. . - ibid. 

49 From the same to Mr. T. Morgan 216 

50 From' the same to the Right Hon. 

Lady E. D. - - 217 

51 From the same to the Lord Marquis 

of Hartford - ibid. 

52 From the same to J. Sutton, esq. 219 

53 From the same to the Lcjrd Marquis 

of Dorchester - - 22d 

54 From the same to Sir E. S, - 229 

55 From the same lo R. Davies, e»q. ibid. 

56 From the same to Mr. W. Price, at 

Oxoa - - 223 


Letter Page 

57 From James Howell, esq. to Mr. R. 

Lee, in Antwerp - '223 

58 From the same to U. Bowycr, esq. 224 

59 From the same to Mr. T. C. at hi* 

house upon Tower TTill - 295 

60 Lady Russell's Letter to the King, 

Charles II. - - ibid. 

61 Lady Russell to Dr. Fitzwilliam 226 

62 From the same to the same - ibid. 

63 From the same to the same - 'i27 

64 From the same to the same - 228 [ 

65 From the same to the same - 229 

66 From the same to the same - 230 i 

67 From the same to the same - 231 ' 

68 Dr. Tillotson to Lady Russell - 28-' I 

69 Lady Russell to Dr. FitzwlUiara 233 

70 From the same to the same - 234 

71 Dean Tillotson to Lady Russell 235 1 

72 LadyRussellto the Dean of bt. Paul's 237] 

73 Dean Tillotson to Lady Russell 238 

74 Lady Russell to Lady Sunderland 259 

75 The same to Dr. Fitzwilliam - ibid. 

76 Dean Tillotson to Lady Russell 240 

77 Lady Russell to the Dean of" St. Paul's 241 
TS Dean Tillotson to Lady Russell - 242 

79 Lady Russell to '- — (supposed 

the Bishop of Salisbury) - 243 

80 Lady Russell to Lord Cavendish 24 1 

81 Archbishop Tillotson to LadyRussell ibid. 

82 Lady Russell to (supposed 

Archbishop Tillotson) - 245 

83 Lady Russell to Lady (sup- 

posed Arlington) - 246 

84 From the same to - ibid. 

85 From the same to Dr. Fitzwilliam ibid. 

86 From the same to Lady Rus- 

sell - - 247 

87 Archbishop Tillotson to Lady Russell ibid. 

88 From the same to the same - 24 S 

89 The Bishop ofSalisbury to Lady Rus- 

sell - - 243 

SO LadyRussell to King William ' ibid. 

91 From the same to (Rouvigaey) Earl 

of Galway - - 250 

92 From the same to the same - ibid 

93 Mr. LockeloMr. Molyneux - 251 

94 From the same to the same - 252 

95 Mr. Molyueux to Mr- Locke - 253 
9Q From the same to the same - ibid. 
'7 Mr. Locke to Mr. Molyueux - 'ibb 

Letter Paga 

98 Mr. MolyneuT to Mr. Locke - 257 

99 Mr. Locke lo Dr. Mo'.yucux - - 251 

100 From the sin'f' lo tlifi same - "^bid. 

101 From llic s.mic lo the same - ibid. 

102 rri>m the si\iiie to the same •• '-C1 

103 From the sp.ui'- to th'^ same - ibid. 
lot Mr. .Molyneux to Mr. Locke - 262 

105 From the same lo the same - 2GS 

106 Mr. l.oiketo ."\lr. Molyneux Hud. 

107 From the sam" to the same - 264 

108 From the s-uiie to the same - ibid. 

109 From the same to the same - 26i 

110 From the same to the same - 266 

111 Mr. Molyiienx to Mr. Locke - 267 

112 Mr. Locke to Mr. .Molyneux - ibid. 

113 Mr. Locke to Mr. PiUrridge - ibid. 

114 Dr. Mol\neux to Mr. Locke - 2tS« 

115 Mr. Locke to Dr. Molyneux - il>id. 
IK) From the same to the same - ibij. 

117 Dr. Molyneux to Mr. Locke - 269 

118 From the same to the same - ibid. 

119 Mr. Locke to Dr. Molyneux - 270 

120 From Lord Shaftesbury to 271 

121 From the same to the same - 272 

122 From tlio same to the same - ibid. 

123 From the same to the same - 27J 

124 From the same lo the same - 274 

125 From the same to the same . ibid, 
12(i From the same to the same - 279 
127 From the same to the same - 280 
12S From the same ti> the same - 281 

129 From the same to 11. Molesworth, 

esq. - - ibid. 

130 From the same to the same - 282 

131 From the same to the same - 281 

132 From the same to the same - 285 

133 From the same to the same - 286 
1'I4 From the same to the same - 287 

135 From the same to the same - 28S 

136 From the same to the same - 290 
117 From the same to the same - 2i^2 
13S From the same to tlie same - 293 

139 From the same to the same - 295 

140 From the same to the same - ibid. 

141 From the same lo the same - 29S 

142 From the same to the same - 297 

143 From the same to Lord *** - 298 

144 From the same to the Earl of Ox- 

ford - - 302 

145 From the same to Lord Godolphia 302 

BOOK III. — Let ten of the present Century, and of late Date. 

From Mr. Pope and his Friends. 

1 lyi R- Pope to Mr. Wycherly • 

2 ■*■'* From the same to the same 305 
9 From the same to the same • i id. 

Letter Pase 

4 Mr. Pope to Mr. Wycherly - 306 

5 From the same to the same - ibid. 

6 From the same to the same - 307 

7 From the same to the same - 308 

8 Ffom the same to the same - ibid. 

9 From the same to the same - 309 
10 From the same tu the sums • 310 

11 Mr. 


i.ctter rape 

11 Mr. Pope to Mr. V.ilsfi - -JiO 

IC From lliosaine to Ibf vnine - ;]11 
13 From thosnmo to TI. Cromwell, esq. 31o 

I > From the same to the same - ibid. 

15 From the sime to the snn'P - ibid. 

16 From the same to the sanie - jH 

17 From the same to the same - 315 

18 From the sau;e to the wimc - o\(> 

19 FroM) the same to the same - "17 
iO From the same to the same - ibid. 
51 From the same to the same - 319 
22 From the same to the saiiK^ - ^'20 
5J From the same to the same - 321 
44 From the same to thesame - 322 
iS From the same to the same ibid. 

56 From the »;;me to the same ' 323 

57 From the same to the sam.e - 3_'4 
2S From tl.e same to the same - ibid. 
59 From tlic same to the same - 3'2j 
30 From the same to the same - 32G 
SI From the same to the same - 3-'7 
92 From the same to the same - S2ti 
S3 From the same to the same - ibid. 
34 From the same to the same - 329 

55 From the same to the same - 330 

56 From the same to tlie same - 331 

37 From the same to Sir W. Trumbull ibid. 

38 From the same to the same • 332 
S9 From the same to the same - 333 

40 From the same to the Honourable 

J. C. esq. - - ibid. 

41 F'rom the same to the same » 335 

42 From the same to the same - ibid. 

43 From the same lo the same - 337 

44 From the same lo General Anthony 

Hamilton - - 338 

45 From the same to Mr. Steele ibid. 

46 From the same to the same - 339 

47 From the same to the same ■» ibid. 

48 Mr. i^teele to Mr. Pope - 340 

49 Mr. Pope to Mr. Steele - ibid. 

50 From tlie same to the same » 341 

51 Mr. Steele to Mr. Pope - ibid. 

62 Mr. Pope to Mr. Steele - ibid. 

53 From the same to Mr. Addison ibid. 

54 Mr. Addison to Mr. Pope - 342 

55 Mr. Pope to Mr. .Addison - ibid. 
SG From the same lo the Honourable 

57 From the same lo Mr. Jcrvas - 344 

58 Mr. JerN as to Mr. Pope - il)id. 

59 Mr. Pope lo Mr. Jcrvas - 345 
I'O From the same to the Earl of Hali- 

fav - - ibid. 

61 Dr. Parnell to Mr. Pope - 346 
6'J Mr. Pope lo the Hon. James Craggs, 

esq. - - 317 

63 From the same to Mr. Conjjrevc ibid. 

64 From the same lo the same - 348 

65 From the same to the same - ibid. 

66 Mr. ("ongieve to Mr. Pone - 349 

67 ihc Rev. Dean Berkeiy to Mr. 

Pope - - 350 

6X Mr. Pope to Mr. .lervas, in Ireland ibid. 

(>9 Iroiii the s;ime to the same - 351 

7<l From the same tf> the same - 352 

7 1 Frrin the same lo Mr. Fenton - ibid. 

Letter P'^?J« 

72 Rev. Dean Perldey to Mr. Pope 353 

73 Mr. Pope to *'*** . 354 
7 1 From the «ame lo **** - 355 

75 From tlu; same to the Earl of Bur- 

iintjloa - - ibid. 

76 From the same to theDukcof Buck- 

inijham - - 357 

77 The Dtike of Buckingham to Mr. 

Pope - - 360 

78 Mr. Pope lo the Diiko of Bucking- 

ham - - ' 36t 

79 Dr. Arbiifiinot lo Mr. Pope - 363 

50 Mr. Pope to Dr.Arbuthnot - 363 

51 From the same to the Earl of Ox- 

ford - - ibid^ 

82 The Eai! of Oxford to Mr. Pope 364 

83 Mr. Pope to Edward Blount, esq. ibid. 

84 Edward Bloimt, est J. to Mr. Pope 365 

85 Frouj the same lo the same - 365 

86 ^Ir. Pope t(» Edward Blount, esq. ibil. 
S7 From the same lo the same - 367 
8S From the same to the .-iame - 368 

89 Edward Blount, esq. to Mr. Pope 369 

90 Mr. Pope lo Edward Blount, es(j. ibid. 

91 From the same to the same - 370 

92 From the same to the same - ibid, 

93 From the same to the same - 371 

94 From thesame to Ihe saniL . 373 

95 From the same to ttie same - ibid. 

96 From the same to the same - 373 

97 From the same to the Hon. Robert 

Digby , - 374 

98 From the same to the same - ibid, 

99 Mr. Digby lo Mr. Pope - 375 

100 Mr. Popeto Mr. Digby - ibid. 

101 Mr. Digby to Mr. Pope - 376 

102 From the same to the same - 377 

103 Mr. Popeto Mr. Digby - ibid. 

104 Mr. Digby to Mr. Pope - ibid. 

105 From the same to the same •» 378 

106 Mr. Pope to Mr. Digby . ibid. 
loV From thesame to the same - 379 

108 From the same to the same - Und. 

109 From the same lo the same - 380 

110 Mr. Digby to Mr. Pope - ibid. 

111 Mr. Pope to Mr. Digby - 3&| 

112 From the same to the same - 39i 

113 From thesame to the same - 333 

114 From the same lo the same - i|btd. 

115 The Bishop of Rochester (Dr. Atter- 

bury) lo Mr. Pope - 384 

1 1 6 Mr. Pope to the Bishop of Roches- 

ter - - ibid. 

117 The Bishop of Rochester to Mr. 

Pope - - 385 

118 From the same to the same - 386 
1J9 Lord Chancellor Harcourt to Mr. 

Pope - - 387 

120 The Bishop of Rochester to Mr. 

Pope - - ibid. 

121 From the same to thesame - 388, 

122 Mr. Pope to the Bishop of Roches- 

ter - - 389, 

123 The Bishop of Rochester to Mr. 

Pope - - ibid* 

124 Mr. Popeto the Bbhop of Roches- 

ter • - ibid.' 

123 Th9 


The Bisliop of Rocheslcr to Mr, 

Mr. Pope to the Bishop of Hochcs- 

The Bishop of Rochester to Mr. 

From the same to the same 
From the same to the same 
From the snme to the same 
From the same to the same - 
Mr. Pope to the Bishop of Roches- 
The Bishop of Rochester to Mr. 

From the same to the same 
Mr. Pope to Mr. day 
From the same to the same 
From the same to the same - 
From the same to the same 

Mr. Gay to Mr. F 

Mr. Pope to Mr. Gay 

From the same to the same 

From the same to the same 

From the same to the s ime 

From tliesame to Mrs. B. 

From the same to Huj^h Bethel, esq 

From the same to the same - 

From the same to the same 

The Earl of Peterborow to Mr. 

Pope - - 

Dr. Swift to the Earl of Peterbo- 


152 From the same to Mr. Bethel 

153 From the same to Dr. Arbiithnot 

154 From the same to Dr. Swift 

155 Anthony Henley, esq. to Dr.Swirt 

156 Lord Bolingbroke to Dr. Swift 

157 Dr. Sw'ft to Mr. Pope 

158 Mr. Gay to Dr. Swift 

159 Mr. Pope to Dr. ^^wift 
IGO Dr. Swift to Mr. Pope 

161 Mr. Pope to Dr. Svwft 

162 Dr. Swift to Mr. Pope 

163 From the same to the same 

164 From the same to the same 

165 From the same to the same 

166 Lord Bolingbroke to Dr. Swift 

167 Lord B. to Dr. Swift 

168 Dr. Swift to Mr. Gay 

169 From the same to the same 

1 70 Mr. Pope to Dr. Swift 

171 Dr. Swift to Mr. Pope 

172 Lady B G to Dr. Swift 

173 Fr«m the same to the same 

1 74 From the same to the same - 

1 75 From the same to the same 

176 From the same to the same 

177 From the same to the same 
I 78 From the same to the same 

179 The Duchess of to Dr. Swift 

180 Lady B G to Dr. Swift 

161 From the same to the same 
182 Dr. Swift to the Duke of Dorset 












. 404 
















Miscellaneous Lelt&rs. 

Lrfter Paj,^ 

1 Dr. Swift to Miss Jane War vn* 433 

2 Dr. Tillotsou to the Earl of Mul- 

frave - - .135 

of .Mul::rave to Dr. Tillots'.n 4J6 

4 Dr. Lewis Atterl)ury to Bishop Al- 

tcrbiiry . . 437 

5 Bishop Atterbury to his brother 438 

6 From the sime to tliesame » ibid, 

7 From the same to tl't; same - ibid. 

8 From the same to his son at Ox- 

ford . . ibid. 

9 From the same to Lord Towns. 

hend - . 439 

10 The Bishop of Rochester to Mrs. 

Morice - . ibid. 

11 Mr. J. Evans to his brother in Lon- 

don - . 440 

12 The Bishop of Rochester to Mr. 

Pope - - ibid. 

13 From the same to **** . ibid. 

14 Dr. King to Bishop Atterbury 441 

15 Sir Richard Steele to Mrs. Scurlock 442 
IG From the same to the same - ibid. 
17 From the same to the same - 443 
IS From the same to the same - ibid. 

19 From the same to the same - ibid. 

20 From the same to thesime - 444 

21 From the same to t!ie same - ibid. 

22 From the same to the same - ibid. 

23 From the same to the same - ibid. 

24 From the same to the same - 445 

25 From the same to the same - ibid. 

26 From the same to the same - ibid. 

27 Frciu the same to the same - ibid. 

28 From the same to the same - 446 

29 From the same to the same - ibid. 

30 From the same to Mrs. Scurlock, 

sen. - . ibid. 

31 From the same to Mrs. Scurlock 447 

32 From the same to the same - ibid. 
Z3 From the same to Mrs. Scurlock, 

sen. - - ibid. 

34 From the same to Mrs. Scurloek ibid. 

35 From the same to the same - 448 

36 From the same to Mrs. .Scurlock, 

sen. - - ibid, 

37 From the same to Mrs. Scurlock ibid. 

38 From the same to Mrs. Scurlock, 


. 449 









52 Sir 

39 From the same to the same 

40 From tlie same to the same 

41 From the same to the sime 

42 From the same lo Mrs. Steele 

43 From the same to tlie same 
4 4 From the same to the same 

45 From the same to ihe same 

46 From the same 10 the same 

47 From the same to the same 

48 trom the same to the s imc 

49 From the same to the same 

50 From the same to tiie same 

51 From the same to the same 


Ltitrr T^zc 

.'2 Nr Ricliard Sfpcle fo Mrs. Steele 1.^1 
53 Frftm Hie sanie to the sanio - ibid. 
51 From thf saiac to the same - ibid. 
5' ] rom the same to the same - ibid. 
-'^' From the same to the same - ibid. 
5" IVom t lie same to the same - ibid. 
.')'' From the same to the same - 4;V2 

59 From the same to the snme - ibid. 
riO From the same to the same - il'id. 
61 From the sainc to tlic same - iliid. 
6i From the same to the same - ibid. 
6;3 From the same to flic same - 4.r'J 
6t From the same to the same - ibid. 
6j From the same to tlie same - iliid. 
6i5 From the same to the same - ibid. 
67 From the. same to I.ady Steele l'>t 

fiS From the same to the same - ibid. 
6^ From the same to the same - ibid. 

70 From the same to the same - 4jj 

71 From the same to the same - ibid- 
7- Mr. Me\ritk to MissStecle - il'id. 
73 From the saine to the same - ■\'j6 
71 From the same to the same - ibid. 
7.T From the same to the same - 4.")7 
7(i Mr. Hnrrourt to Miss Steele - 1.58 
7 7 Miss Steele to a Friend in London ibid. 
7S Mr. Me\ri<k to Miss Steele - 439 

79 Mis.s Steele lo Mr. MeyricUe ibid. 

80 The Hon. John (aiterwards Lord) 

Trevor to Miss Steele - 460 

Fl Mr. Me\ricketo Mrs. Llovd 461 

f 2 Mrs. .Mary .^ciirloek lolier Mother ibid. 

83 Mr. Steele to Mr. .Addison - 462 

84 Mr Pcpe lo Mr. Steele - 463 

85 Mr- Steele te Mis. Bovey - ibid. 

86 Sir Ilicliard Steele to Mrs. Steele 464 

87 Duchess Dowager of Soir.erscl to 

Mrs.**"* - - 465 

88 Rev. Mr. Dyer lo Mr. Dimcombe 466 

89 From the same to the same - 467 

90 From the same tt) the same - 468 
<'l From tlie same to the same - ibid. 
SiJ Rev. Mr. Meadowcourt lo Mr. Dun- 
combe - - ibid. 

93 From the same to the same - 469 

94 Joseph Ward, esq. to Mr. liigh- 

rtiore - - 470 

Sj Rev. Mr. SpoHce to the Rev. Mr. 

.latres Ridley - ibid. 

96 Mr. Waibiirton to the Rev. Dr. 

I'ioddridge - - 471 

97 Fri)m tl;c same to the same - ibid. 

98 Frt.m the same to the same - 412 

99 from the same lo the 'ame - ibid. 

100 Frori the same to Ihe same - 473 

101 Dr. D«d«lridj;e lo a jounjj Grntlo 

n!i»ii,on his recovery irom a dau- 
gerous illness - 4 74 

lO"? Fren. tl e san.c to Sir J. 475 

103 Dr. ()ii\cTlo Or. Doddridj^e - ibid. 

104 'Ihc ii;sh«;[>ol Oxford (Dr. Seeker) 

to the Rev. Dr. Doddridge 476 

105 From the same to the saiDe - ibid. 

106 Dr. 1 (ddrid-e to the Rev. Mr. 

Wo^'d of Norwitfe - iT7 

Fetter Pa^C 

107 Nalli.miel Ncal, esq. to Dr. Dod- 
dridge - - 4 73 
IdS I'rom ihe same to llie same - 4 79 

109 I'rom the same to tiie same - ibid. 

110 Dt-nrv Haker, eH\. to Dr. Dod- 

drid-e - - 4 SO 

111 Dr. Cotlon to Dr.Doddridije - 4S'2 
11 J Dr. Tho. Ruudle to Joseph Taylor, 

esq. - - ibid. 

113 From tlic same (o the Rev. Dean 

Clarke - - 48 t 

1 14 From the same to !Mrs. Sandys 4S5 

115 FrcMii the same to the same - 486 

116 From the same to the same - ibid. 

1 17 From Ihe same to the same - 487 
1 IS From the same lo ilie same - 488 
119 From Ihe same to the same - 490 
1'20 From the same to the same - ibid. 
I'Ji From the same lo Ihe same - 492 
l'i2 From the same to the samd - 493 
12 J From t!ie same to (lie sair.e - ibid. 

124 From the same lo the same - 494 

125 From the same to tin; same - 495 

126 From the same to Ihc same - ibid. 

127 From the same to the same . 496 
12"? Frimi the .same to the same - 498 
139 From the same to the same - 499 

, 130 From the same to the same - 500 

i 131 From the same to the same - 501 

132 From the .same to the same - 502 

I 133 Miss Talbot to a new-born Child 503 

134 Dr. Thomas Rnndle to Archdeacon 

S . - - ibid. 

135 Dr. Herrinjj to W. Dnncombc.csq. 504 

136 From the samp to the same - 505 

137 From the same to th*t same - ibid. 

138 From the same to the same - r)06 

139 From the saire to the same - ibid. 

140 From the same to the same - 507 

141 From the same to the same - ibid. 

1 42 From the to the same - 508 

143 From the same to the same - ibid. 

144 From the same to the same - 509 

145 From the same to the same - 510 
14G Extract of a Fetlerfrom Mr. Dun- 
combe to Archbishop Herring ibid. 

147 Archbishop Herring to William 

Duneombe, esq. . - 512 

1 48 From the same to the same - ibid. 

149 From the same to the same • ibid. 

150 From the same to the same - 513 

151 From the .same to the same - ibid. 

152 From the same lo the same - 514 

153 from the same lo the Rev. Mr. 

M'histon - - ibid. 

154 From the same U> the Rev. Dr. 

Benson - - 515 

1 55 From the same to W. Duneombe, 

esq. - - ibid. 

156 From the same to the same - ibid. 

157 From the same to the same - 516 

158 From the same to the same - ib.d. 

159 From the same to the same - ibid. 
1 60 I rom the same to the same - 517 
161 From the kame to the same - ibid. 

162 Arch- 


Xrltcr Va^c 

lb2 -Arrliltishop Hcrriii' to W. Dun- 
ce in tie, fS(|. - - ."ilS 

J 65? I'roni the same lo the same, ibid. 

Kil From the same to the same - 51S 

163 Dr. Thomas Seeker to Dr. Isaac 

Walls - - ibid. 

lf>G From the same to the same - 521 

l'f)7 Frcmi the sune to the same - ibid. 

J<'>8 From Ihc same to the same - ibid. 

169 Dr. Josiah Ilort, Archhishop of 

Tiiam, to Dr. Isaac Watts .522 

1 70 Dr.Fiimuiul Ciibbon, Bishop of Lon- 
don, to Dr. Isaac Watts " - ibid 

]7l From the same to the same ibid. 

3 72 From the same to the same - 623 

1 7J From iiie to the same - ibid. 

374 Frofn the same to the same - ibid. 

37') Fro'u (he sime to the sime - 524 

17G From the same to the same - il>id. 

177 Frances Countess of Ilcrt ford, after- 
wards Duchess of Somerset, to 
Dr. Isaac Walts - ibid. 

1 78 From the same to the same - 5S5 

179 From the same to the same - ibid. 

180 From the same to the same - ibid. 

181 F'rom the same to the same - 5i'6 

182 From the same lo the same - il)id. 
383 From the same to tlie same - 527 
ISI From the same to Ihe same - ibi;(. 
3 85 From the same to the same - 528 

186 From the sam;> to the same - 529 

187 From the same to the same - ibid. 

188 From the same to the siuue - b'JO 

189 From the same to the same - ibid. 

190 From the same to the same - 531 

191 From the same to the same - ibid. 

392 From the same to the same - 532 

393 From Ihe .same to the same - ibid. 

194 From the same to the same - 533 

195 From the same to the same - ibid. 
195 Lord BarriogloQ to Dr. Isaac 

■VValfs - . ibid. 

Letter Pag2 

197 Lord Barrinf^lon to Dr, Isaac 

Wafts - - 534 

198 Mr. John Locke to Mr. Samuel 

Bold - - ibid. 

199 Dr. TillotsoTi. Dean of Canterbury, 

to a sick iViend . - 537 

200 Mrs. Rowe lo her .Mother - 538 

201 Archbishop Herring to William 

Duncombe, esij. - ibid. 

202 M. de Voltaire lo the Author of llio 

Dialogues of the Dead - jjg 

203 Mr. I' — at H , to .Mr. W 

atL - - 540 

204 M at Frankfort on the 

Maine, to M. at the !Ia;,nie 511 

205 From Ihe Kinu' of Prussia, in his 

own Hand, lo M. de Voltaire 542 

206 M. de Voltaire to .Madame Dr-nnis, 
his niece - - ibid. 

The lli^ht Hon. Horace Walpole to 
a (riend in Holland - 544 

Sir Kobert Walpole, Rarl of Orford, 
after his retirement, to General 
Churchill . . 516 

209 Ladv Hertford (afterwards Durbess 

of Somerset) to the Hon. Mrs. 
Knii;^ht - - ibid. 

210 Countess of Hertford to Lady Lux- 

borough - - 547 

211 From the same to the same - jks 

212 F'rom the same to llie same - 519 

213 Duchess of Somerset to Lady Lux- 

borough - - 5')0 

214 From the same to the same - 551 

215 From the same to W. Siienstone, 





Lady Luxbo- 


216 From the same 


217 From the same to the same - 5.) i 

218 Countess of Hertford to Dr. Buroet bri 


BOOK IV. — Recent Letters. 


From the Letters of William Smevstone, 
/,'s^. and Jtlr. Gray, to and from their 




1 Y|R. Stenstoue to a Friend 

2 -^'*- From the same to Mr. Jago, 

on the death of his Father 558 

3 From the same to Mr. Reynalds 559 

4 From the same to Mr. , on bis 

taking orders in the church - 560 

5 From the same to a Friend, express- 

ing his Dissatisfaction at the 
tnauner of life in which he is en- 
gaged - - ibid. 

Letter Pjo-e 

G Mr. Shenstone to Mr. , with an 

invitation to accompany him to 
town - - 561 

7 From the same to the same - ibid. 

8 From the same to Mr. Graves, on 

benevolence and friendship 56* 

9 From the s:inie to the same - 563 

10 From the same to the same, written 

in hay harvest - 564 

11 From the same to the same, after the 

disappointment of a visit - ibid. 

12 From the same to the same, witj 

Thoughts on Advice - 565 

13 From t4ie same to the same • 566 

14 From the same to the same - 557 

15 From the same to Mr. Jago - 553 

is Mr. 


leVn Page 

16 Sir. Shonslone to Nfr. ■ on his 

marriage - - 569 

17 From fhc s-xmc to the sume, nith an 

in\itation to The I.rasowcs - 570 

18 From the s:^!!!? to a Friend, disap- 

pointing him of a visit - 571 

19 From thesimo to Mr. Jajio - ibid. 

20 From the same to C "V\ , 

<■*<]. - - 572 

51 From the same to ^Ir. Crav s, on 
thedeutb ot'Mr. Shcnstone'» bru- 
4hcr - - 573 

22 Frmn the same to C V»' , 

esq. - - 574 * 

23 From the same to Mr. G , on 

the receipt il" his pirliire - 575 

24 From the same to Mr. Jajo - 575 

25 FrPiu the same to the same ' - 577 

26 From fhc Fnmc to Mr. Graves, on 

the death of Mr. Whistler - 578 
57 From the same f o the ssme, on hear- 
ing that his Letters to Mr. Whist- 
ler were destroyed - 579 
2S Mr. West to Mr. Gray - 5S0 

29 Mr. Gray to ^\r. West - ibid. 

30 Mr. West to Mr. Gray - 581 

31 Mr. (rrav to Mr. West - ibid. 

32 Mr. West to Mr. Gray - J)82 

33 Mr. Gray to Mr. Walpole - 583 

34 Mr. West to Mr. Gray - ibid. 

35 Mr. Gray to Mr. West - ibid. 

36 From the same to Mr. Walpole 584 

37 From the same to the same - ibid. 

38 Mr. West to Mr- Gray - 585 

39 From the same to the same - ibid. 

40 Mr. Gray to Mr. Walpoic - 586 

41 From the same to Mr. West - ibid. 

42 Mr. West to Mr. Gray - ibid. 

43 From the same to the same - 587 

44 From the same to the same - ibid. 

45 Mr. Gray to Mr. West . ibid. 

46 From the same to the same - 588 

47 Mr. West to .Mr. Gray - 589 

48 Mr. Gray to Mr. West - 590 

49 Mr. West to .Mr. Gray - .1^91 

50 Mr. Gray to Mr. West . ibid. 

51 Mr. Vvest to Mr. Gray . ibid. 

52 Mr. Gray to Mr. W(st - ibid. 

53 From the same t© Dr. Wharton 592 

54 From the same to the same - 5^:} 

55 From the same to the same - ibid, 
66 From the same to Mr. Walpole 594 
57 From the same to the same - 595 
68 From the same to I)r. \\ barton 596 
59 From the same to the same - ibid. 
€0 From the same to the same - 597 
61 From the same lo the same - ibid. 
C2 From the same to the same - 598 
C3 From the 'aine to hb Mother . ibid. 
64 From the s;iij'.c to Ilr. Wharton .099 
(i5 J/oiii the same to Mr. Walpole ibid. 

66 From the same to Dr. Wharton 600 

67 From the sajiie to Mr. Walpole ibid. 

68 From the same to Mr. Mason . fiOl 

69 From ihesHmc to Dr. Wharton ibid, 
to From llie kume to the game - C02 

Letter fa^c 

71 Mr. GrnT to Dr. Wharton - 603 

72 From the same to the same - 603 

73 From the same to Mr. Mason - 604 

74 From the same to the same - ibid. 

75 From the same to Mr. lliird eo.l 

76 From the same to Mr. Mason 606 

77 From the same to Dr. Wharton 607 

78 From the same to the same - ibid. 

79 From tlic same to .Mr. Stonhcwer 603 

80 From the same to Hr. Wharton ibid. 

81 From the same to ^Ir. I'algrave 609 

82 From the same to Ihe same - 610 

83 From the same to Dr. Wharton ibid. 

84 From the same to Mr. SfonhcMcr 61 ! 
83 From the same lO Dr. Clarke - 61 i 
86 From the same to Mr. M;ison 613 
8/ From the same to Dr. Wharton ibid. 

88 From the same to Mr. Ma.son 614 

89 From the same to l^r. Wharton ibid. 

90 From the snme to the same - 615 

91 From the same to Mr. Mason ibid. 
9'2 From the same to Mr. Beultie ibid. 

93 From the same to the Duke of 

Grafton - - 616 

94 From ilie same to Mr. Nicbolls ibid, 

95 From the same to Mr. Beatiie 617 

96 From the same to Mr. Nicbolls ibid. 

97 From the .same to Ihe same - 618 

98 From the same to Ihe same - 619 

99 From the same to Mr. Beattie 620 

100 From thesame to Mr. MchoUs ibid. 

101 From the same to Dr. Wharton 621 


From the Letters of Lairexce Stkrne, and 


1 Mr. Sterne to Miss L 

2 From ihe same to ^Irs. F — 

3 From the same to J — H — 

esq . 

4 From the same to the same 





5 From, the same to Lady 

6 From the same to David Garrick, 

esq. - . ibid. 

7 From the same to Lady D 626 

8 From the same to Mrs. Sterne ibid. 

9 From the same to the same - 627 

10 From th. jame to Lady D ibid. 

11 F'rom ihusirtie to Mr. K— — 628 

12 From the same to Mr. Fol{?y - ibid. 

13 From the same to J — H — S , 

esq. . - 62D 

14 From the same to Mr. Foley, at 

Paris - - 630 

15 From the same to the same - ibid. 

16 From the same to the same - 631 

17 From the same to the same - ibid. 

18 From the same to tile same - ibid. 

19 From the same to the same - 632 

20 From the same to thesame - ibid. 

21 From the same to the same . 633 

22 From the same to Mrs. F ibid. 

23 Mr. 


LefJffr Pajje 

23 Mr. Sterne to Miss Sterne - (jjl 

24 From the same to J — II — S , 

esq. - - ibid. 

25 From the same to Mr. Foley - 635 
2(> From the sam*' In Uavid Garrick, 

e^<]. - - ibid. 

27 From, the snmeto Mr. W - 6'J6 

28 From the same to Miss Sterne ibid. 

29 From the same to J — 11 — S , 

esq. - - 637 

30 From the same to file sr\me - ibid. 

31 Ignatius Sancho to Mr. Sterne - 6J8 

32 Mr. Sterne to Ignatius Sancho - ibid. 

33 From the same to Mr. W - 639 

34 From the same to Miss Sterne ibid. 

35 From the same to the same - f>!0 

36 From the same to Mr. ami Mrs. J — 641 

37 From the same to Ignatius Sancho ibid. 

38 From the same to J. I) — n, esq. ibid. 

39 From the same to J — • H — S , 

esq. - - ibid. 

40 From the same to A. L e,esq. 642 

41 From the same to Ijjnatius Sancho ibid. 

42 From the same to Mr. and Mrs. J — ibid. 

43 From the same to the same - 643 

44 From the same to Miss Sterne - ibid. 

45 From the same to Sir AV. 644 

46 From the same to Mr. and Mrs. J — ibid. 

47 From the same to Mrs. F 645 

48 From the same to Mr. and Mrs, J — ibid. 

49 From the same to A. L e, esq. 646 

50 From the same to the same - ibid. 

51 From the same to Mr. and Mrs. J — 64 7 
62 From the same to tlic same - ibid. 

53 From the same to the same - 64S 

54 From the same to Miss Sterne ibid. 

55 From the same to Mrs. J ibid. 

56 From the same to ***** - 649 

57 From the same to the same - 650 

58 From the same to **** - 651 

59 Ignatius Sancho to Mr. J — W e 652 

60 From the same to Mr. M 653 

61 From the same to the same - 654 

62 From the same to Mr, K ibid. 

63 From the same to Mr. M 655 

64 From the same to Mr. B - 656 

65 From the same to Mrs. H 657 

66 From the same to Miss L - ibid. 

67 From the same to Mr. M 653 

68 From the same to the same - 659 

69 From the same to Mr. J 

W e - - ibid. 

70 From the same to Mr; W e - 600 

71 From the same to J S^ , 

esq. - - 661 

72 From the same to Mr. H - ibid. 

73 From the same to Miss L ibid. 

74 David Hume, esq, to - 662 

75 From the same to Dr. Campbell 664 

76 Dr. Smollett to Daniel Matkercher> 

esq. - - ibid. 

77 Dr. Isaac Schomberg to a Lady 667 

78 To Colonel R s - 669 

79 John Garden to Archbishop Seeker ibid. 

79 Archbishop Seeker to John Garden 670 

80 John Garden to Archbishop Seeker 671 

81 Archbishop Seeker to a Clergy maa ibid. 


From the Lelteri of Ladv Maiy Wotitiet 
Montagu, Lord Ciii.sTeKi'itLo, />r. 
JoKNSOK^ and others. 

Letter Page 

1 Lady M. W. Montagu to the Coan- 

tess of ■ - C73 

2 From the same to Mrs. S - 6 74 

3 From the same to Mrs. S. C. - ibid. 

4 From the same to Lady 675 

From the same to the Countess of 
B - - ibi 

From the same to Mrs. P 

From the same to the Countess of 


8 From the same to Mr. P^ • 

9 From the same to the Counters of 

10 From the same to Lady R 

1 1 From the same to Mrs. J*** 

12 From the same to the Lady X. 

13 From the same to Mr. M 

1 4 From the same to the Countess of 





1 5 From the same to the Countess of 




16 From the same to the same 

1 7 From the same to the Countess of 

B - - ibid. 

18 From the same to the Lady R ibid. 

19 From the same to the Countess of 

- . 683 

20 From the same to the Lady • 689 

21 From the same to the Countess of 

- - 690 

. 691 

22 From the same to Mr. Pope 

23 From the same to the Countess of 




24 From the same to Mr. Pope 

25 From the same to Her Royal High 

ness the Princess of Wales 

26 From the same to Lady 

27 Lcrd Chesterfield to Dr. R. Chene- 

vix, Lord Bishop of Waterford 693 

28 From the same to the same - ibid. 

29 From the same to the sama - ibid. 

30 From the same to the same - 699 

31 From the same to the same - ibid. 

32 From the same to the same - 700 

33 From the same to the same - ibid. 

34 From the same to the same .- ibid. 

35 From the same to the same - 701 

36 From the same to the same - ibid. 

37 From the same to the same - 702 

38 From the same to tlie same - 703 

39 From the same to the same - ibid. 

40 From the same to the same - 704 
From the same to the same - ibid. 
From the same to the same - 705 
From the same to the same - 706 

44 From the same to the same - ibid. 

45 From the same to the same - 707 

46 From the same to tiie same - ibid. 

47 From the same to the same - 708 

48 From tha same to the same - ibid. 

49 From the same to the same - 709 

50 Lord 




L^Her Page 

50 Lord ChMferfifW to Pr R. Chfve- 

ni\, f.ord Bi^liop of Uatrrford 709 
Jt Fr«ni the sjmt- to llie same - 710 
52 From llie same to the snme - ibid. 
i1 From the same to I hr samp - 711 

54 Dr. >v,iil to the Earl of Chc«ter- 

fitld - - ibid. 

55 The Earl of Chestei field to Pr. 

Swift - - 712 

j6 Dcnn Swift to the Earl of Chestcr- 

tiild - - ibid. 

57 John r)unninir,csq. fo a Gentleman 

of the Inner Tcmplf - 713 

5? IV. Johnson to >[r. Flphinstone TH 
SP I r( m the same to the same - ibid. 
60 I'rdiii the tame to the Rev. Dr, 

Taylor - - 715 

CI the same to Miss Boothby ibid. 
C? From the same to the same - ibid. 

63 From the same to the E;irIof Ches- 

Itrfield - - ibid 

64 From the same to Miss **** 71 6 

65 Irom the- same to Miss Boothby 717 
6b From the same to the same 

67 Fr(.m the same to Joseph Harclli 

68 From the same to the same 
€y From the sane to the same 
70 -Mrs. Thrale to .Atr 



71 Dr. Johnson to Mr. Boswell 

72 From the same to the :amc 

73 From the same to the same 
71 From (he same to Mr. JaraesMac- 

phersoii - - , 726 

75 From the same to James BoswclJ, 

esq. - . 727' 

76 From the same to Afrs. Roswell ibid. 

77 From the same lo James Boswell, 

esq. - . 72g 

7S From the same to .Mr. Elpliinstone ibid. 
79 From the same to James Boswell, 






80 From the same to the same 
hi From the same lo Mrs, Thrale 

82 From the same to the same 

83 From the same to tne same 

81 From the same to the same 
i-5 Mrs. Thrale to Dr. Johnson 
fb' Dr. Johnson to James Boswell, esq. 733 

87 From the same to. . 734 

iS From the »ameto the Hon. \^ arren 

liaslinj^s, esq. . 735 

89 From the same lo Mrs. Thrale i])id. 

50 From the same to tl:e same - ibid. 

51 From the same to the game - T.IG 
*>2 From tlie same to the same - ibid. 

93 From the same to the same - ibid. 

94 From the same to the same - 737 
S-5 Mrs. Thrale lo Dr. Johnson - ibid. 
S6 I'r. Johnson to Mrs. Tl, rale - 739 
i»7 From the same to the same - ibid 

88 Mrs. Tbraicto Dr. Johnson - Uo 
t»9 Dr. Johnson to .Mr. Hector - 7J1 

100 Fiom the same to James Boswell, 

^•»q- - - ibid. 

I'll From the same to the same - ibid. 

lOvi Fruiii ihi; siime to t.'io same - 742 

1C3 i.cui the sjii.c tu tUcsaaie - 743 

Letter ra^e 

. lot Dr. Johnson to Mrs. Thrale - 713 
' 105 Mrs. Thrale to Dr. Johnson - 744 
106 Dr. Johnson to Mrs. Thi ale - 745 
I 107 From the same to the same - 746 
. 108 From the same to Miss Susanna 

Thrale - - ibid. 

I 109 From the same to Miss Sophia 

Thrale - - 747 

110 From the same to Miss Susanna 

Thrale - - ibid. 

1 1 1 From the same lo Mrs. Thrale - 7 t 

112 From the same to the same - il"d. 

113 From the same to the same - 749 

114 From the same to the s:in;e - ibid. 

115 From the same to Miss S. A. 

Thrale - - 7.50 

n() From the same to Mrs. Thrale - ibid. 
1 1 7 From the same to Mrs. ( hapone 751 

1 18 From the same to Mrs. Thrale ibid. 

119 Mrs. Thrale to Dr. Johnson - 752 

1 20 Dr. Johnson to Mrs. Thrale ibid. 

121 From the same to the same - 753 

122 From the same to the same - ibid, 

123 From the .same to the same - 751 

124 From the same to the same - ,ibid. 

125 From the same lo the Rev. Dr. 

Taylor - - '755 

126 From the same to Lord Thnrlow ibid. 

127 Miss to the Rev. Dr. Home ibid. 

128 Dr. Home to Miss - 75S 


Fi'om the Letters of George lord Lyttel- 
TG.\, Diihop HoADLY, atid others. 

Letter Page 

1 Lord Lyttclton to Sir Thomas Lyt- 

telton - - 758 

2 From the same to the same - 759 

3 From the same to the same - iltid- 

4 From the same to the same - 760 

5 From the same to the same - 761 

6 From the same to the same - 763 

7 S. Poyntz, esq. to Sir Thomas Lyt- 

telton - - ibid. 

8 Lord Lyttelton to Sir Thonias L) t- 

teit(m - - 764 

9 From the same to the same - ibid. 

10 From the same to the same - 765 

1 1 From the same to the same - 766 

12 From the same to the snme - ibid. 

13 S. I'ojntz, esq. to Sir Thomas Lyt 

ttllon - - ibid. 

1 4 Lord Lyttelton to Sir Thomas Lyt- 

telton - - 767 

1 5 Hoadly to Mr. Balgny - 763 
1^ From the same to Lady Simdon ibid. 

17 From the same to tiie same - 769 

18 From the same lo the same - ibid. 

19 From the same to the same - ibid. 

20 From the same to the same - 770 

21 From the same to the same - ibid. 

22 From the same to Use same ibid. 

23 From the same to the .same - 771 
21 From the same to tlie same - ibid. 

25 Bishop 


letter Page 

?5 Bishop TToadly to Lady Sundon 771 

26 I'rom tlur snme to the sr>me - 113 

27 F'-Miii the SHiTK- to the snme - ihid. 
58 From the s;ini<,' lo the siiiHC - ibid. 
29 Fnim the sauK' to tht- s;imc - 774 
50 From tlie siiiif (o the same - 775 

31 From llie sami- to the same - ihid. 

32 From the same to the saniO - ihid. 

33 From the saijir to the same - 776 
31 FVom Ihe sannf to the same - ibid. 
35 From tlu- to the same - 777 
3G FVom the same to Ihe same - 778 

37 From the same to tlie same - ibid. 

38 FVom Ihf same to th(! same - il»id. 

39 From (lie .same to the same • il)id. 

40 From the same to the same - 779 

41 Lord Chcstcrlicld to Solomon Day- 

r<»ll('s, esq. - - ibid. 

42 From the same to tlie same - 7S0 

43 From the same to the same - ibid. 
41 From tin; same to the same - 7bl 
4') From the sump to the same - 7 82 

46 From the same to the same - ibid. 

47 From tho sime fo the same - '7H3 

48 From the same to the same - ibid. 

49 F'rom the sane to the same - 784 

50 From the same to the same - 785 

51 From thi' same to the same - ibid. 
5'2 From the sime to the same - 786 
B3 From the same to the same 787 
51 F'rom the same to the same - 788 

55 From the same io the same • ibid. 

56 From the same to Sir Thomas Robin- 

son, hart. - - 789 

57 From tlie same to Dr. Cheyne 790 

58 The late Bishop Home to a yoaag 

Clergyman - - ibid. 


from Ihe Letters of Wii.LiAyi Cowper, Fsq. 
Dr. Beattie, 5/r William Jones, Mr. 

Richardson, Lady Mary VVortley Mun- 
TABU, and iiovvARD GiuBov, Esq. 

Letter Page 

1 William Cowper, esq. to Joseph 

Hill, esq. - - 792 

2 From the same to Lady Hesketh ibid. 

3 From the same to the same - 793 

4 From the same to the same - 794 

5 From the same to the same - 796 

6 From the same to the same ibid. 

7 From the same to the same - 797 

8 From the same to Major Cowper 7^J8 

9 From the same to Joseph Hill, esq. 799 

10 From the same to Lady Hesketh ibid. 

1 1 From the same to Joseph Hill, esq. 800 

12 From the same to Mrs. Cowper ibid. 

13 From the same to the same - 801 

14 From the same to the Rer. William 

Unwin - - "302 

1 5 From the same to the same • ibid . 

16 From the same to the same - SO J 

17 From the saoie to the Rct. John 

NcYtloa - - ibid. 

Letter ^a"* 

18 William Cowper, esq. to the Rev. 

Williim Unwiii - 801 

19 From the same to Mrs. Cowper 803 
'lO From tlie same to the Rev. William 

Unniti - - ibid. 

21 From the same to the same - 80S 

22 From the same to Mrs. Cowper 807 
'■23 From the same t(» the Rev. William 

I'n^vin - - ihid- 

2t From the same to the same - 80S 

25 From the same to Joseph Hill, esq. 809 

26 From the same to the Itev. Williain 

L'n\vin - - ibid, 

T7 F'rom the same to the same - 811 

2S r'roiTi the same to the same - ibid. 

29 From the same to the same - 812 

30 From the same to the stine - 813 

31 From the same to the same - 81-t 
3i From the same to the sam;; - 815 

32 From the s-ime to the same - StS 

33 From ll;e same lo the same - ibid. 
35 I'rom the same to the same - 617 
3^ From the same to the same - SIR 
3 7 From the sxme to liie same - hi 9 
3S From tiie same to Joseph Hill, esq. 820 

39 From the same to the Rev. John 

Xewtoa - - ihid. 

40 From the same to the same - 821 

41 From the same to the Kev. WiUiam 

L'nA\iii - - ihid. 

42 From the same to the Rev. John 

Newton - - 822 

43 From the same to the Rev, William 

Unwin - - 823 

44 From the same to the same - 824 

45 From the same to the Rev. John 

Newton - - 825 

46 From the same to Joseph Hill, esq. t2S 

47 From the same to the Rev. WilHam 

vn-Jvin — - ibid, 

48 From the same to t!ie sam« - 827 

49 From the same to the same - 828 

50 From the same to the same - S29 

51 From the same to the sasDc - gJO 

52 From the same to the Rev. John 

Newton - - Wl 

53 From the same to the same - 8J2 

54 From the same to the same - 8J3 
bb From the same to the iiev. Williana 

Unwin - - 834 

56 From the same to the same - 83.i 

57 From the same to the same - 836 

58 From the same to the Rev. John 

Newton - - ibid. 

59 From the same to the same - 838 

60 From the same to the Rev. William 

Unwin - - ibid. 

61 From the same to the Rev. John 

Newton - - 839 

62 From the same to the same . 840 

63 From the same to the Rev. William 

Unwin - - 841 

64 From the same to the Rev. John 

Newton - - 84? 

65 From the same to Joseph Hill, esq. 843 
Go From the same to the Rev. William 

Unwia - - ihid. 

67 Wi.liaiK 


Let tor Page 

67 William Cowpcr, esq. to the Rev. 

William I'lnvin - 81 1 

68 From the snnic to Joseph Hill, esq. 845 

69 From the same to the Rev. William 

ln«i(i - . 84 G 

lO From the same to Lady Ilesketh 847 

71 From the snrae to the same - 818 

72 From the sniuc to the same - 849 

73 From tln> ■iame to the Kev.William 



74 From the same to Lady Hcskelh 

75 From the same to llie same 

76 From the same to the same 

77 Fiom the same Jo the same 

78 From the same to the Kcv. Waller 

Ba;;ot - - 851 

79 From llic same to Lady Hesketh ibid. 
SO From the saine to the Rev.WiUiara 

Uiiwin - - 856 

81 From the same to Lady Hesketh ibid, 
g'i From the same to the same - 857 
83 From the same to the same - 858 
Si From the same to the same - ?50 
fcj From the same to the same - SJl 
86 From Ibe same to theRev. William 

Unwin - - - 869 

^87 From the same to the same - 853 
^ 88 From the same to the same - 8G4 

89 From tt.e same to Lady Hesketh ibid. 

90 From the same to the same - Sbj 

91 From the same to Sara. Rose, esq. 856 

52 From the same to Lady Hesketh ibid. 

53 From the samo to the same - X67 

54 From thtf same to the same - !iL8 
95 From the same to tiie same - 869 
95 Frofu the same to the same - ibid. 

97 Dr. Reattie to Robert Arbuthnot, 

esq. -^ - - 870 

98 From the same to Sir William 

Forbes - - 871 

S9 From the same to the stme - 872 

100 From the same to Dr. Blacklock 873 

101 From the same to the Hon. Charles 

Boyd - - 874 

102 From the same to Fir Wm. Forbes 875 

103 From the same to the same - 876 
10! From the same to Dr. Blacklock 877 
105 From Iho same to Mrs. Iii^lis 878 
lOG From the same to the Rij^ht Hon. 

the Dowa°;er Lady Forbes - 880 
lOT From the same to .Mrs. Montagu 881 
JOS ^Irs. Montagu to Dr. Bealtie - 8S3 

109 Dr.Lieattie to Sir William Forbes ^.S4 

110 From th? same to Mrs. Montagu ibid. 

111 From the same to the same - 885 
1\2 From the same to the same - 88G 
113 The Rev. Dr. Forleus to Dr. 

Bealtie - - 887 

314 Dr. Kcatlie to the Rev. Dr. Por- 

.teiw - - ibid. 

115 From the same to the same - i^H[) 

116 ]^Irs. Montngn to Dr. Bealtie ibid. 
il7 Dr. Be.' I tie to Mrs. Montagu - 8SU 

118 From the same to the Hon. Mr. 

B Ten Ciordoa - - 892 

119 Froiii tlic same to the Duchess of 

Gordon - - 893 











: 144 


! 116 



I 148 


, 150 

! 151 
■ 152 


i 154 
I 155 









er Page 

Dr. r.callic lo Ihc Duchess of Gor- 
don - - 894 
From the smc to the same - 696 
From the s.ime to Sir William 

Forbes - - ibid. 

Mr. Jones, at the age of fourteen, 

to his Sisler - - 897 

From the same to Lady Spencer 89S 
From the same to N. B. Halhed 899 
From the same to Lady Spencer 900 
From the same to the same - ibid. 
From the same to C. Reviczki 901 

From the same to J. Wilmot, esq, 902 
From the tame to Mr. Hawkins 903 
Dr. Hunt lo Mr. Jones - ibid. 

Mr. Jones to F. P. Bnycr - 904 
From the same to Lord Althorpe 905 
Edmund Burke to Mr. Jones - 90S 
Mr. Jones to Lord Althorpe - ibid. 
From the same to the same - 907 
From the same to the Rev. E. 

Cartwright - - 908 

From the same lo Dr. Wheeler ibid. 
From the same to the Bishop of St. 

Asaph - - 909 

The Bishop of St. Asaph to Mr. 

Jones - - ibid. 

Mr. Jones to Lord Althorpe - 910 
From the same to Mr. Thomas 

Yeates - - 911 

From the same to the Bishop of St. 

Asaph - - ibid. 

From the same to Lady Spencer 91 2 
Sir William Jones to Lord Ashbur- 

ton - - 913 

From the same to Dr. Patrick Rus- 
sell - . - ibid. 

From the same to — - 914 

From the same to Charles Chap- 
man, cs(j. - - ibid. 

■From the same to Miss Shipley 915 

From the same to J. Shore, esq. ibid. 

F'rom tlic same to the same - 916 

From the same to Dr. Patrick Rus- 
sell - - 917 

From the same to Thomas Caldi- 
cot, es(;. - - ibid. 

From the same to J. Shore, esq. ibid. 

From the same to Mr. Justice 
Hyde - - 918 

From the same to Sir Joseph Banks ibid. 

From the same to Joha Wilmot, 
esq. . - 919 

From the same to Mr. Justice Hyde ibid. 

F'rom the same to Sir J. Macpher- 
son, hart. - - 920 

From the same to Sir J. Sinclair, 
hart, - - ibid. 

From the same to Sir Joseph Banks 921 

P'rom the same to Warren Hastings, 
esq. - - 922 

From the same to Lord Teign- 
mouth - . 923 

]\Ir. Hill to Mr. Richardson - ibid. 

From the same to the same - 924- 

From the same lo the same - 925 

Mr.Strahau to Mr. Richarusjn - ibid. 

168 Mr. 


Letter r.i»e | 

1G8 Mr.?trnlian In Mr. BIrli-trdson - 9?6 I 
169 Froin the same to llie <'»mc - ?127 | 
) "0 From the same In the same - Ihid. | 

171 Dr. Yoimj; to ]\lr. Richnrdsoii - 928} 

172 From the same to lliesame - 929 I 

173 From the same to the snme - ihid. j 
I 74 From the same to the same - 930 ' 

175 From the same to the same t ihid. ' 

176 From tlie same to the same - 9.11 

177 Mr. Richardson to T)r. Yoimj iliid. 

178 Dr. Younj; to Mr. Ricliardsoa 9.T2 

179 From the same to the same - ihid. 

150 MissFieldin;;to Mr. Rirhardson 0?,3 

151 Miss Colher to Mr. IJicliardson ihid. 
132 Miss Fieldino; to Mr. Ricliardson ♦t34 
183 From the same to tlie same - ihid. 
181 Miss Collier to Mr. Ricliardson 933 
18.'j Mr. Richardson to Miss ("oilier - 936 

186 From the same to the same - 937 

187 Miss Collier to Mr. Richardson - 938 

188 From th(^ same to the same - 9j9 

189 Mrs. rilkiiigton to Mr. Richard- 

spn - - ibid. 

190 From the same to the .same - 910 

191 From the same to the same - 941 
I'-S F'-ont the same to Collc^ Gibber, 

esq. . . ibid. 

193 Collcy Gibber, esq. to Mr. Rich- 

ardson - - 942 

194 From the same to the same - ibid. 
19.5 From the same to the sar,ic - 943 

196 From the same to the same - ihid. 

197 From the same to the same - ibid. 

198 ^Ir. Richardson to Miss Hi;:;hmore 944 

199 Miss Highmore to Miss Mulso - 915 

200 From the same to the same - 946 
2Q1 Miss Muiso to Miss Highinore - ibid. 

202 Mr. Richardson to Miss Highmore 947 

203 From the same to the same - 949 

204 From the same to the same - 950 

205 Mr. Spcnce to ]\Tr. Richardson - 651 

206 Ladv Echlin to Mr. Richardson 933 

207 Mr." Richardson to Lady Echliu - 954 

208 Ladv Echlin to Mr. Richardson 955 

209 Mr." Richardson to Lady Echlin 936 

210 Ladv Echlin to Mr. Richardson ibid. 

211 Mr.'Richardiion to Lady Echlin - 957 

212 Lady Echlin to Mr. Richardson ibid. 

213 From the same to the same - 938 

214 The Rev. Mr. Hildesley to Mr. 

Richardson - - 959 

215 Mr. Richardson to the Rev. Mr. 

Hildesley - - ibid. 

216 The Rev. Mr. Hildesley to Mr. 

Richardson - - 960 

217 Mr. Hichardson to the Rev. Mr. 

Hildesley - - 961 

218 The Rev. Mr. Hildesley to Mr. 

Richardson - - 962 

2J9 The Rev. Mr. Loftus to Mr. Rich- 
ardson - - 9G3 

220 Mr. Richardson to the Rev. Mr. 

Loftus - - ibid. 

221 The Rev. Mr. Loflus to Mr. Rich- 

ardson - - 9fi4 

^22 From the same to the same - 965 

Letter Pa^e 

223 Mr. Richardson to the Rev. Air, 

Lofltis - - 96.5 

224 The Rev. Mr. Skellon to Mr. Rich- 

ards(m - - 966 

225 Mr. Richardson to the Rev. Mr. 

Skelfon - - 967 

226 Dr. .lolmson to Mr- Richardson 968 

227 Fron\ the same to the same - ibid. 

228 Lady Rradshaigh to Mr. Richard- 

son - - ibid. 

229 Mr. RiihardsoM to LadvRradshaigh 970 

230 From the same to the same - 971 

231 From the same to the same - 972 

232 Lady Hradshaigh to Mr. Richard- 

son - - 974 

^33 Mr. Richardson to Lady Bradshaigh 97^ 

234 From the same tt) the sante - 978 

235 From the same to the same - 981 

236 Lady Bradshaigh to Mr. Richard- 

son - - 982 

237 Lady M. W. MoiitLgii to the Coun- 

tess of Mar - - 981 

2.'38 From the same to the same - ibid. 
'219 From the same to the same - 995 

210 From the same to the same - 986 

211 From the same to the same - ibid. 

242 I'rom the same to the same - ibid. 

243 From the same to the same - 9S7 

244 From the same to the same - 98S 
215 From the same to the same - ihid. 
2 16 From the same to the same - ibid. 

24 7 From the same to the same - 9S9 
243 From the same to the same - 990 
249 From the same to the same - ihid. 
2.50 From the same to the same - 991 

251 From the same to Mr. Wortley ibid. 

252 From the same to the same ' - 992 

253 From the same to the same - ibid. 

254 From the same to the Gountess of 

Bute - - 993 

255 From the same to Uie same - i!)id. 

256 From the same to ]\Ir. Wortley 994 

25 7 From the same to the Countess of 

Bute - - 995 

258 From the same to the same - 997 

259 From the same to the same - 999 

260 From the same to the same - 1000 

261 From the same to the same - 1002 

262 From the same to the same . ibid. 

263 From the same to the same - lOOt 

264 From the same to the same - 1005 

265 From the same to the same - 1006 

266 From the same to the same - 1003 

267 From the same to Mr. Wortley ibid. 

268 From the same to the Countess of 

Bute - . 1009 

269 From the same to the same - 1010 

270 From the same to the same - 1011 

271 From the same to the same - 1012 

272 From the same to the same - 1013 

273 From the .same to the same - lOil 

274 From the same to the same - 1015 

275 From the same to the same - 1016 

276 From the same to the same - ihid. 

277 From the same to the same 1017 

278 From the same to the same - 1018 
c £79 Ladj 


i79 I.;«Hv M. W Moat;«*iito the Coun- 

tc'.sof Bute - - 1018 

Si-O Mr r.ibbon to Mr*. PorUn - 1019 
831 Mr. Gibbon lo his Fnllier - lUL'O 

CS'2 Kdnard Gibbon, esq. to J. Holrojd, 

cfl(. - . 1021 

2S3 From the same lo thp same - 10'_'2 
284 From the tame to the same, at 

Edinburgh - - lOM 

?S5 From the same lo the same - 1024 
18» From the same to the same - ibid. 
?S7 From the same to the same - 10 >j 
9^A From the sume to tlie same - ibid. 
•2S9 From tho same to the same - 10 i6 
S9>) From the san.e lo the same - ibiil. 
^91 From I he s:ime to the same - 1027 
?''2 From the same to Mrs. Gibbon ibid. 
293 From the »auie lo J. B. Hoirojd, 

es«j. - - ibid. 

Letter Page 

'291 tdward Gibbon, esq lo J. B. llol- 

r«>d,e.s(|. .. - lO'.'S 

295 FroMi the same to Ihc same - iliid. 
'.'9;; From the siinv to the same - 10-'9 

297 From the same to the Kighl Hon. 

LordShedield - - 1030 

298 From tlie same lo the Bight Hon. 

Lad> I-liefikld - 1031 

?99 From the same to the Kighl Hon. 

Lord Sheffield - 1032 

300 From tlie same lo the same - 1033 
,'iOl From Ihesame to Mrs. I'orten 1034 

302 From the same to the Right Hon. 

LordSheflieid . 1035 

303 Fnmi tlic same lo the same - 103G 

304 From llie same lo the same - ibid. 
3u5 Fronjlhesame tothos,im« - 1037 

306 From the sa ne f o the saii:e - ID'iS 

307 From the same to the «amc • 104Q 

Epistolarum S} Uoge : 






From the Letters of MARCUS TULLIUS CICERO, to several of his 
Friends, as translated by William Mei.moth, Esq. 


To Teretitia, to mi/ dearest Tullia, and io 
viTj Son. 

r>ruiulisium, April tlieSOth. \A.V. 693.1 

IF you do not hear from me so fre- 
quently as you might, it is because I 
can neither write to you nor read your 
letters, w ithout falling into greater grief 
than I am able to support; for though I 
am at all times indeed completely miser- 
able, yet I feel my misfortunes with a 
particular sensibility upon those tender 

Oh ! that I had been more indifferent 
to life ! Our days would then have been, 
if not wholly unacquainted with sorrow, 
yet by no means thus wretched. How- 
ever, if any hopes are still reserved to us 
of recovering some part at least of what 
we have lost, I shall not think that I Iiavc 
made altogether so imprudent a choice. 
Eut if our present fate is unalterably 
fixed — Ah ! my dearestTerentia, if weave 
utterly and for ever abandoned by those 
gods whom you have so religiously 
adored, and by those men whom 1 have 
so faithfully served ; let me see you as 
soon as possible, that I may have the 
satisfaction of breathing out ray last de- 
parting sigh in your arms. 

I have spent about a fortnight in this 
place *, with my friend Marcus Flaccus. 
This worth}' man did not scruple to ex- 
ercise the rights of friendship and hospi- 
tality towards me, notwithstanding the 
severe penalties of that iniquitous law 
against those who should venture to give 
me reception f. May I one day have it 
in my power to make him a return to 
those generous services, which I shall 
ever most gratefully remember ! 

I am just going to embark, and pur- 
pose to pass through Macedonia in my 
way to Cyzicum t. And now, my Te- 
rentia, thus wretched and ruined as I am, 
can I intreat you under all that weight of 
pain and sorrow with which, I too well 
know, you are oppressed, can I intreat 
you to be the partner and companion of 
my exile? but must I then live witliout 

* Bnindisium ; a inai itime tomi in the king- 
dom of Naples, ivuv calletl ISrindisi. Cicero, 
when he first withdrew from Rome, intended to 
have retired into Sicily ; bxit beii:g denied en- 
trance by the governor of that island, he changed 
his direction, and came to Brundisium in his 
way to Greece. 

f As soon as Cicero had withdrawn from Rome, 
CluJius procured a law, which among other ar- 
ticles enacted, " that no person should presume 
" to harbour or receive him on pain of death." 

+ A considerable town in an island of thePro- 
pontis, which lay so close to the continent of 
A»ia as t« be joined witli it by a bridge. 

B you ? 



von ? I know not how to reconcile my- 
self to th^it hard condition; unless your 
presence at Rome may be a mean of for- 
w«r(lin£j my return : if any hopes of that 
kind should indeed subsist. IJut should 
there, as I sadly suspect, be absolutely 
none: come to nie, 1 conjure you, if it 
be possible : furncvcr can I think myself 
completely ruined, whilst I shall enjoy 
my Tereuiia's company. Eut how will 
my dearest daughter dispose of Ijersclf ? 
A (jueslion which von vonrselves must 
consider: for, as to my own part, I am 
utterly at a loss what to advise. At all 
events, however, that dear unhappy girl 
must not take any measures that may in- 
jure her conj'igal repose*, or aiVect her 
in the good opinion of the worhl. As 
for my son — let me not at least be de- 
prived of the consolation of folding him 
for ever in my arms. But I nuist lay 
down my pen a few moments : my tears 
ilow too fast to sutler me to proceed. 

I am under the utmost solicitude, as I 
know not whether vou have been able to 
preserve any part of your estate, or (what 
I sadly fear) are cruelly robbed of your 
whole fortune. I hopePiso-]- will always 
continue what you represent him to be, 
entirely oui-s. — As to the manumission of 
the slaves ; I think you have no occasion 
to be uneasy. For with regard to vour 
own, you only promised them their li- 
berty as they should deserve it: but ex- 
cepting Orpheus, there are none of them ' 
that have any great claim to this favour. 
As to mine, I told them, if my estate 
should be forfeited, I would give them 
their freedom, provided I could obtain 
the confirmation of that grant : but if I 
preserved my estate, that they should all 
of them, excepting only a few whom I 
particularly named, remain in their pre- 
sent condition. But this is a matter of 
little consequence. 

With regard to the advice you give me, 
of keeping up my spirits, in the belief 
that I shall again be restored to my coun- 
try ; I only wish that 1 may have reason 
to encourage so desirable an expectation. 
In the mean lime, I am greatly miserable, 
in the uncertainty when I shall hear 
from you, or what hand you will find to 
convey your letters. I would have waited 
for thern at this place ; but the master of 

* TuUia was at this time married to Caius Pi- 
so Frugi, a young noblcinaa gf cue of Uie best 
tainiiics in Rome. 

f Cicero's soa-in-law. 

the ship on which I am going to embark, 
could not be jjrcvailed upon to lose the 
present (jpportunity of sailing. 

Tor the rest, let me conjure you in my 
turn, to bear up under the pressure of our 
afilictlons with as much resolution as pos- 
sible. Iieinend)er that my days have all 
been honourable; and that I now sufl'er, 
not for my crimes, but my virtues. >s'o, 
my Tcrentia, nothing can justly be im- 
puted to me, but that I survived the loss 
of my dignities. However, if it was 
more agreeable to our children that I 
should thus live, let that reflection teach 
us to submit to our misfortunes with 
cheerfulness; insupportable as upon all 
other considerations they would undoubt- 
edly be. But alas, whilst I am endea- 
vouring to keep up your spirits, I am 
utterly unable to preserve nty own I 

I have sent back the faithful Philetee- 
rns; as the weakness of his eyes made 
him incapable of rendering me any ser- 
vice. Noth ing can equal the good oflfices 
I receive from Sallustius. Pescenuius 
likewise has given me strong inarks of 
his aflection : and I hope he w ill not fail 
in his respect also to you. Sicca pro- 
mised to attend me in my exile: but he 
changed his mind, and has left me at 
this place. 

I intreat you to take all possible care of 
your health : and be assured, your mis- 
fortunes more sensibly aftect me than my 
own. Adieu, my Terentia, thou most 
faithful and best of wives! Adieu. And 
thou, my dearest daughter, together with 
that other consolation of my life, my 
dear son, I bid you both most tenderly 


To Terentia, to my dearest Tullia, and t0 
my Son. 

'llicssaloiiica J, Out. the oth. [A. U. 605.] 
MAGiNi", not, my Terentia, that I 

write longer letters to others than to 
yourself: be assured at least, if ever I do, 
it is merely because those I receive froui 
them require a more particular answer. 
The truth of it is, I am always at a loss 
what to write: and as there is nothing in 
the present dejection of my mind, that i 
perform with greater reluctance iu ge- 
neral ; so I never attempt it with regard 
to you and my dearest daughter, that it 


i A city in Macedonia, now called Salonkhi. 


Sect. r. 


docs not cost roe a flood of tears. For 
how can I think of you williout b('in<f 
pierced with ji^rii-f in the reflection, that 
I have made those completely miserable, 
whom I on<^lit, and wislied, to have ren- 
dered perfectly happj' r And I should 
have rendered them so, if 1 liad acted 
>vjth less timidity. 

Piso's behaviour towards us in this 
season of our afllictions, has greatly en- 
deared him to my heart: and I have, as 
well as I was able in the present discom- 
posure of n)y mind, exiiortcd him to 
continue them. 

1 perceive you mu( h depend upon the 
new tribunes: and if I'ompiy perseveres 
in his present disposition, I am inclined to 
think that your hopes will not be disap- 
pointed; though I must conloss, I have 
some fears with respect to Oassus. In 
the mean while I have the satisfaction to 
find, what indeed 1 had reason to expect, 
that you act with great spirit and tender- 
ness in all m}' concerns. But I lament it 
should be my cruel fate to expose you to 
so many calamities, whilst you are thus 
generously endeavouring to ease the 
weight of mine. Be assured it was with 
the utmost grief I read the account which 
Publius sent me, of the opprobrious man- 
ner in which von were dragged from the 
temple of Vesta, to the office of Valerius*. 
Sad reverse indeed! that thou, the 
dearest object of my fondest desires, that 
my Terentia, to whom such numbers 
were wont to look up for relief, should 
be herself aspcctacle of the most afl'pcting 
distress ! and that I, who have saved so 
many others from ruin, should have 
ruined both myself and my family by 
my own indiscretion ! 

As to what you mention with regard 
to the area belonging to my house ; I 
shall never look upon myself as restored 
to my country, till that spot of ground 
is again in mv possession f. But this is a 
point that does not depend upon our- 
selves. Let me rather express my con- 
cern for wivat does; and lament that, dis- 

* Terentia had taken sanctuary in the temple 
of Vesta, but was fi->rcil>ly (h-aij^cd out from 
theace by the directions ot Ciodiu', in order to 
be examined at a public office, coiiceniing her 
husband's effects. 

f After Clodius had procured the law against 
Cicero already taken notice of, he consecrated 
the area where his house in TJonie stood, to the 
perpetual service of religion, and erected a tem- 
ple upon it to the Goddess of Liberty. 

tressed as your circumstances already are, 
you .should engage yourself in a share »)f 
those ex))enccs which arc incurred upon 
my account. I'c assured, if ever I should 
return to Home, I sliall easily recover my 
estate: but should fortune cotitinue to 
persecute me, will you, thou dear un- 
happy woman, will' you fondly throw 
away in gaining friends to a desperate 
cause, the last scanty remains of your 
broken fortunes } I conjure you then, m v 
dearest Terentia, not to involve yourself 
in any charges of that kind : let them be 
borne by those who are able, if they are 
willing, to support the weight. In a 
word, if you have any aflection for me, 
let not your anxiety ui.'on my account in- 
jure your health ; which, alasl is already 
but too much impaired. Believe me, you 
are the perpetual subj ct of my waking 
and sleeping thoughts: and as I know 
the assiduity you exert on my behalf, I 
have a thousand feais lest your strength 
should not be equal to so continued a fa- 
tigue. I am sensible at the same time, 
that my affairs depend entirely upon your 
assistance: and therefore that they may 
be attended with tiie success you hope 
and so zealously endeavour to obtain, 
let me earnestly intreat you to take care 
of your health. 

I know not whom to write to, unless 
to those who first write to me, or whom 
you particularly mention in your letters. 
As you and Tullia are of opinion that I 
should not retreat farther from Italy, I 
have laid aside that design. Let me hear 
from vou both as soon as possible, parti- 
cularly if there should be any fairer pros- 
pect of mv return. Farewcl, ye dearest ob- 
jects of my most tender aflection, fareweL. 



To the same. 

Dyrrachium|, Nov. 26. [A. tJ. 63?.] 
LEAR.v by the letters of several of my 
friends, as well as from general report, 
that you discover the greatest fortitude of 
mind, and that you solicit my affairs with 
unwearied application. Oh, my fcren- 
tia, how truly wretched am I, to be the 
occasion of such severe misfortunes to 

+ A city in * 'acedonia, no\v called Ihtrazzc, 
in the Turkish dominions. This letter, though 
dated from Dyrrachium, appears to have been 
wholly written, except the postscript, at Thes- 

B2 so 


Book L 

so faithful, so generous, and so excellent 
n voinan ! And my dearest TuUia too ! 
That she who ^\■a3 oncesohappv in licr 
father, should now derive from riiin such 
bhter sorrows ! But liovv shall I express 
the aeiifuish I tVel tor my little boy I who 
becamr ;ici]uainted with yrief assoou as 
he was tapal)!e of any reflection "^. Had aittictions happened, as you ten- 
derly represent them, bv an unavoidable 
fate, they would have sat less heavy on 
my heart. But they arc altogether 
owing to my own folly in imagining I 
•was loved where I was secrctlv envied, 
and in not joining with those who were 
sincerely df sirnu!,of my fricndshipl. Had 
I been governed, indeed, by my own 
sentiments, without relying so much on 
those of my weak or wicked advisers, we 
might still, my Tercntia, have been hap- 
py. However, since my friends encou- 
rage n.c to hope, I will endeavour to 
restrain my grief, lest the eftect it may 
have upon my health should disappoint 
* your tender ciYorts for my restoration. I 
am sensible at the san;e time of the many 
difr)culties that ntust be conquered ere 
that point can be eflected ; and that it 
%vould have been much eiisier to have 
maintained my post, than it is to recover 
it. Nevertheless, if all the tribunes are 
in my interest; if Lentulus is really as 
zealous in my cause as he appears; and 
if I'ompey and C;tsar likewise concur 
with bin) in the same views, I ought not, 
most certainly, to despair. 

With regard to our slaves ; I am will- 
jrig to act as our friends, you tell me, ad- 
vise. As to your concern in respect to 
the plague which broke out here ; it is 
entirely ceased : and 1 had the good lor- 
tune to escape all infection. However, it 
was my desire to have chauijcd my pre- 
sent situation for some more retired place 
in Epirus, where 1 might be secure fronj 
Piso and his soldiers +. But the obliging 
Plancius was unwilling to part with me; 

* Cif'oro's son was at this time about eight 
ycare of ace. 

f Casrir and Crassus frequently solicifofl Ci- 
C'jro t<j unite himself to their party, proniisini; to;t him from the outrages of Clodius, pro- 
vided he would fall in wiih their measures. 

X Lucius Calphurnius Piso, who was consul 
th s year with Gabinius : they were both the pro- 
fessed e.ieinies of Cicero, and supported flodius 
in t;is liolcnr. measurfs. 'Hie province of Maee- 
doni.-t had fallen to the former, and he was now 
prep.irinu to set out for his government, where 
rrn tivops w^re daily arriving; 

and still indeed detains me here in the 
hope that we may return together to 
Kome§. If ever I should live to see that 
happy day; ifcvrr I should be restored 
to my Tercntia, to my children, and to 
myself, I shall think al! the tender solici- 
tudes we have sutVcred during this sad 
separation ai)undantly repaid. 

Nothing can exceed the afTection and 
lunnaniiy of Piso's \\ behaviour towards 
every one of us : and I wish he may re- 
ceive from it as mnch satisfaction as I 
am persuaded he will honour. — I was far 
frotn intending to blame yon with respect 
to my brother ; but it is much my desire, 
especially as there are so few of you, that 
you should live together in the most per- 
fect harmony. I have made my acknow- 
ledgments where you desired, and ac- 
quainted the persons you mention that 
you had informed me of their services. 
As to the estate you propose to sell; 
alas! my dear Terentia, think well of 
the consequence : think what would be- 
come of our unhappy boy, should for- 
tune still continue to persecute us. But 
my eyes stream too fast to suller me to 
add more : nor would I draw the same 
tender flood from yours. I will only say, 
that if my friends should not desert me, I 
shall be in no distress for money : and if 
they should, the money you can raise by 
the sale of this estate will little avail, f 
conjure you then by all our misfortunes, 
let us not absolutely ruin our poor boy, 
who is well nigh totally undone already. 
If we can but raise him above indigence, 
a moderate share of good fortune aiKl 
merit will be suflTicient to open his way 
to whatever else wc can wish him to ob- 
tain. Take care of your health, and let me 
know by an express how your negocia- 
tions proceed, and howaftairsin general 
stand. — My fate must now be soon deter- 
mined. I tenderly salute my son and 
daughter, and bid you all farewel. 

P. S. I came hither not only as it is 
a free city«J, and much ir* my interest, 
but as it is situated likewise near Italy. 
But if I should find any inconvcnienca 
from its being a town of such great re- 
.sort, I shall remove elsewhere, and give 
you due notice. 

§ Pl.<ncius was at this time quasstor in Mace- 
donia, and distinguished himself by many gene- 
rous offices to Cicero in his exile. 
II C']<^eri)'s son-in-law. 

<^[ That i?, a city which had the privileg*. 
though in the dominions of the Roman r«pu!>« 
lie, to be governed by its owa laws. 

Sect. I. 




To Terentia. 

Dyrrachium, Nov. the 3('fh. [A. U. 695.") 
nrcEivED throe lettrrs iron) you by 
the hands of Aristocriliis, oiul liave 
wrpt over I hem till thev nrc ahriost (\c- 
t'nciA with mv tears. Ah I my TerLtilici, 
1 oni worn out with sirief: rior do my 
own personal mislbrluncs more severely 
torture my mind, than those with which 
you and my cliildrcn are oppressed. Un- 
happy indeed as you are, lam still infi- 
Jiiteiy more so; as onr conunon afflic- 
tions arc attended with this aggravating 
circumstance to mvsclf, that the}- are 
justly to be imputed to mv imprudence 
uloue. I ought, most undoubtedly, either 
to have avoided the danger by .'iccepting 
the commission which wis otiercd me; 
or to have repelled ibrce by force, or 
bravely to have perished in the attempt. 
Whereas nothing could have been more 
unworthy of my character, or more preg- 
nant with misery, than the scheme 1 have 
pursued. I am overwhelmed, therefore, 
not only with sorrow, but Viilh shame: 
yes, my Terentia, I blush to reflect that 
1 did not exert that spirit I ought for the 
sake of so excellent a wife and such ami- 
able children. The distress in which you 
are all equally involved, and your own 
jll Slate of health in particular, are ever 
in my thoughts: as 1 have the mortifi- 
cation at the same time to observe, that 
there appear but slender hopes of my be- 
ing recalled. My enemies, in truth, are 
jnany ; while those who are jealous of me 
are almost innuir.erablc; and though they 
found great dilliculty in driving me from 
my couutrj', it will be extremely easy 
for them to prevent my return. How- 
ever, as long as you have any hopes tiiat 
my restoration may be-efiected, I will not 
rcase to co-opcrale with j-our endeavours 
for that purpose, lest my weakness should 
seem upon all occasions to frustrate every 
measure in my favour. In the mean 
■while, my person (for which you are so 
tenderly concerned) is secure from all 
tlanger: as in truth. I am so conipletely 
wretched, that even my enemies them- 
selves must wish, in mere malice, to pre- 
serve my life. rseveriheless,l shall not fail 
to observe the caution you kindly give me. 
I have sent my acl nowiedgments by 
pexippus to the persons you desired me, 

and mentioned at the same time, that you 
had informed me of their good ollii es. I 
km perfectly sensible of those which Piso 
exerts tow;ir<l3 us with so uncommon a 
zeal: and indeed it is a cirrumstunce 
which all the world speaks of to his ho- 
nour. Heaven grant ] may live to cnjov 
with you and our children, the commoa 
happiness of so valuable a r«lation * I 

'i'hc only hope I have now left, arises 
from the new tril)unes; and thac foo de- 
pends upon the steps thev shall take in 
the coirunencemeut of their ollicc ; for if 
they should postpone my afiair, I shall 
give up all expectations of its ever being 
eftected. Accordingly I have dispatched 
Aris'ocritus, that you may send n^e im- 
n»ediate notice of the first measures they 
shall pursue, together with the gen^-ral 
])lan upon which they purpose to conduct 
themselves. I have likewise ordered 
Dexippus to return to me with all expc-. 
dition, and have written to my brother to 
re(jiiest he would give me frequent in- 
formation in what manner afl'airs pro» 
ceed. It is with a view of receiving the 
earliest intelligence from Rome, that I 
continue at Dvrrachium; a place \\ herel 
can ren)ain in perfect sccurilv, as I have 
upon all occasions distinguished this city 
by my particular patronage. However, 
as soon as I siiail receive intimation that 
my enemies f are approaching, it is my 
resolution to retire into Epirus. 

In answer to your tender proposal of 
accomp..nving me in ni}- exile: 1 rather 
choose you should continue in Home; as 
1 am sensible it is upon you, that the 
principal burthen of my afiidrs must rest, 
if your generous uegociatinnsshould suc- 
ceed, my return will prevent the necessity 

ol' that journev ; if otherwise Bull 

need not add the rest. ' The next letter I 
shall receive from you, or at most the 
subsequent one, will determine me in 
wliat manner to act. In the mean time 
I desire you will give me a full and 

* lie had the great misfortune to be disap- 
pointed ot his wish; for PiS >died soon after this 
Icttt-r was w.'itieii. C<ceiO leprestiits him as a 
younic nobieuian,"of the gRuiest talents and ap- 
plication, who devuted lus whole time to the ito- 
provcmLiits of his mmd, aud the exercise of 
cioqneuee : as one whose moral qualifications 
Were no less extraora'nary than his inte, . c^^ual, 
aud ill siiori as possessed of every acci... plish.' 
muijt virtue that oouid endear bna to his 
friends, to his faiTnly, and to tSie public. 

f The troops of Piso. 




Book I 

fcithful informntion how things go on: 
though indeed I have now more rea«(in 
to expect tiie final result of this affair, 
than an account ol' its progress. 

Take care of your health I conjure 
you; assuring yourself that you are, as 
you ever have been, the object of my 
fondest wi.<hcs. I'arcwel, my dear Te- 
rcntia ! I see \o\\ so strongly before me 
whilst I am writing, that I am utterly 
spent w ith the tears I have shed. Once 
jDorc, faxewel. 


To Fnblius Lailulus, rroconsul. 

[A. U. COT.] 
AuiL's Trebonins, wlio is an old and 
intimate friend of mine, has some 
important aflairs in your province, which 
require immediate dispatch. His own il- 
lustrious character, together with the re- 
commendations of myself and others, 
have, upon former occasions oftiiis kind, 
obtained for him tiie indulgence of your 
predecessors. He is strongly persuaded, 
tbereiore, from that affection and those 
niuturd good olhces which subsist be- 
tween vou and me, that this letter will 
not prove a less efiectual solicitor in his 
behali': and IctniC earnestly intreat you 
not to disappoint him in this his expec- 
tation. Accordingly I recommend his 
servants, his freed-men, his agents, and, 
in short, his concerns of every kind, to 
your patronage: but particularly I beg 
you would confirm the decree which Ti- 
tus Ampius* passed in his favour. In 
one word, I hope you will take all op- 
portunities of convincing him, that you 
do not consider this recommendation as 
a matter of common and unmeaning 
form, r'arewel. 


To the same. 

[\. TT. 697.] 
"^ov will receive a full account from 
•^ Pollio, of all that has been transacted 
in your aftair, as he was not only present, 
but a principal manager. Believe me, I 
am much concerned at the unfavourable 
aspect of this business. However, it af- 
fords me very sensible consolation, that 
there is strong reason to hope the pru- 
denceof your friends will be able to elude 
the force of those iniquitous schemes 

•* J-cntulus's predecessor 19 this goveriuaent, 

w hich have been projected to your pre- 
judice. Even time itself will probably 
contribute to this end ; as it often wears 
out the malevolence of those who either 
professedly, or in a disguised manner, 
mean one ill. I am yet farther confirmed 
in these pleasing hopes, whenever I re- 
flect upon the faction that was formerly 
raised against myself: of which I see a 
very lively invade in the present opposi- 
tion to you. In the latter instance indeed 
the attack is by no means so extensive or 
"so dangerous as that which was made 
upon me; nevertheless there is in gene- 
ral a strong similitude between the two 
cases: and you must pardon me, if I can- 
not fear upon your account what you ne- 
ver thought reasonable to be apprehen- 
sive of on mine. But whatever maj' be 
the event, convince the world that you 
are influenced by those principles for 
which I have admired you fnjm yourear- 
liest youth: and believe me, my friend, 
the malice of your enemies will only 
serve to render \our character so much 
the more illustrious. In the mean time, 
do me the justice to hope from my allijc- 
tion whatever the warmest friendship 
can cfiect : and bo assured, I shall not 
disappoint your expectations. Farewel. 


To Lucius Lucceius. 

[A. U. 697.] 
T ii.WE frequent]}^ had it in my intentions 
to talk with you upon the .subject of 
this letter; but a certain awkward mo- 
desty has always restrained me from pro- 
posing in person, what I can with less 
scruple request at this distance: for a let- 
ter, you know, spares the confusion of a 
blush. I will own, then, that I have a 
very strong, and, 1 trust, a very pardon- 
able passion, of being celebrated in your 
writings: and though you have more 
t ban once given me assurance of your in- 
tending me that honour, yet I hope you 
will excuse my impatience of seeing your 
design executed. I had always, indeed, 
conceived a high expectation of your 
performances in this kind; butthespeci- 
men I have lately seen of them is so far 
superior to all I had figured in my imagi- 
nation, that it has fired me with the most 
ardent desire of being immediately dis- 
tinguished in your glorious annals. It is 
my ambition, I confess, not only to livo 
for ever in the praises of future ages, but 
to Ijave the present satisfaction; likewise, 


cct. I. 


of seeing myself stand approved in the 
autlioritativc records of mv iiigonious 
frienu- I am sfusiblr, at the same time, 
that vniir thonghts are already deeply cn- 
gaged in the prosecution ot" your original 
design. But as I perceive yon ha\e al- 
most completed your acconnr of llie Ita- 
lic and Murian civil war^, aud renicuil)er 
you proposed to carry on the remainder 
of our history in a reguhir series; I can- 
not forbear recommending it to your 
consideration, whethrr it would he bi>st 
to weave the relation of Cataline'sconspi- 
racy into the general texture of vour ptr- 
fonnance, or cast it into a distinct work. 
It is certain, several of the Creek histo- 
rianswilljustifv you in this latter method. 
ThusCalisthenes wrote a narrative of the 
siege of i'roy, as both Tima-us and I'o- 
lybiusdid of the Pyrric and Nuinantine 
wars, in so many detached jiieces from 
their larger histories. As to the honour 
that will arise to me, it will be much 
the same, I must own, upon whichever 
scheme you may determine to proceed : 
but I shall receive so much the earlier 
gratification of my wishes, if, instead of 
waiting till you regularly advance to that 
period of our annals, you should enter 
upon it by this method of anticipation. 
Besides, bj' keeping your mind attentive 
to one principal scene and character, you 
will treat your subject, I am persuaded, 
so much the more in detail, as well as 
embellish it with higher graces. I must 
acknowledge it is not extremely modest, 
thus to impose a task ''.pon you which 
youroccupations may well justify you in 
refusing; and then add a farther reijuest, 
that you would honour my actions with 
yourapplause; an ]ionour,after all, which 
you may not think, perhaps, they greatly 
deserve. However, when a man has 
once transgressed the bounds of decency, 
it is in vain to recede; and his wisest way 
is to push on boldly- in the same confident 
course, to the end of liis purpose. I will 
venture, then, earnestly to intreat you 
liottoconfineyourself to the strict laws of 
history, but to give a greater latitude to 
your encomiums, than, possibly, you may 
think mv actions can claim. I remem- 
ber, indeed, you declare in one of your 
very elegant prefaces, that you are as in- 
flexible to all the pleas of atVection, as 
Xenophon represents Hercules to have 
been to those of pleasure*. Let me 

* The story to which Cicero here alludes, is 
this : Hcrculos wheu he was yet a youth, as Pro- 

hope, nevertheless, if friendship should 
too strongly recommend my actions to 
your approbation, you will not reject 
her generous partiality, but give some- 
what more to affection, than rigorous 
truth, perhaps, can justly demand. 

if I .shoidd prevail upon you to I'all in 
with my proposal, you will find the sub- 
ject, 1 persuade myself", not unworthy of 
your genius and your eloquence. The 
entire period from the rise of Cataline's 
conspiracy to my return fiom banishment, 
will lurnish, I should imagine, a niorlerate 
volume. It will supply yon likewise witll 
a noble occasion of displayingyourjudg- 
ment in politics, by laying open tlic 
source of those civil disorders, and point- 
ing out their proper remedies, as well as 
by giving your rcasous for approving or 
rondcmnmg the several transactions 
which you relate. And should you be 
disposed to indulge your usual spirit of 
freedom, you will have an opportunity 
of pointing out, at the same time, witli 
all the severity of your indignation, the 
treachery and perfidiousncss of those 
who laid their ungenerous snares for my 
destruction. I will add too, that this pe- 
riod of my life will furnish you with 
numberless incidents, which cannot but 
draw the reader's attention in a very 
agreeable manner: as nothing is more 
amusing to the mind than to contemplate 
the various vicissitudes of fortune. And 
though they were far, 'tis true, from be- 
ing acceptable in experience, they can- 
not fail of giving me much entertainment 
in description : as there is an inexpres- 
sible satisfaction in reflecting, at. one's 
ease, on distresses we have formerlv^suf- 
fcred. There is something likewise in 
that compassion wiiich arises from read- 
ing an account of the misfortunes which 
have attended others, that casts a most 
agreeable melancholy upon the mind. 
Who can peruse the relation of the last 
n)oments of Epaminondas at the battle of 
^lantinea, without finding himself touch- 
ed witii a pleasing commiseration? That 
glorious chief, you maj- remember, would 
not sufltir the dart to be drawn out of his 

dieus rt'lates the fable, r<:tircd into a place of 
undisturbed solitude, in order to d(;tcrmine with 
himself whut course of life he should pursue. 
Whilst he was in tlio midst of liis contempla- 
tions. Pleasure and \irtu<; appeared to hiiu un- 
der the figures of two beautiful women ; and 
each accosted him i.i her turn. He heard their 
respective pleas with groat attention; but Virtue 
gitiu-'d her cause, and entirely won the hear of 
the future hi'ro. 

B t. 5i4G 


Book L 

side, till he was informed that the shield 
was safe from the hnmis of his enemies: 
and all his concern amidst tl)c anguish 
ofhiswuund was, to die withf^lory*. 
What can be more interesting also than 
the account of the lli-;lit and deatli of 
Themislocles?f The truth of it is, a 
mere narrative of general facts affords 
little more entertainment to the reader, 
than he might fmd in perusing one of our 
public registers. Whereas in the history 
of anvextraordinar}- person, our fear and 
hope, our joy and sorrow, our astonish- 
ment and expectation, are each of them 
engaged by turns. And if the final result 
of all should be concluded with some re- 
markable catastrophe, the mind of tlie 
reader is fdled with the highest possible 
gratification. lor thcsi reasons I am the 
more desirous of persuading you to sepa- 
rate my story from the general thread of 
your narration, and work it up into a 
detached performance: as indeed it will 
exhibit a great variety of the most inter- 
esting and affecting scei\es. 

When I tell you it is my ambition to 
be celebrated by your pen, I am by no 
means apprehensive you w ill suspect me 
of llattery. The consciousness of your 
merit must always incline vou to believe 
it is envy alone that can be silent in your 
praise : as on the other side, you cannot 
imagine me so weak as to desire to be 
transmitted to posterity by anv hand, 
■which could not secure to itself the same 
glory it bestowed. When Alexander 
chose to have his picture drawn by x\pel- 
les, and his statue formed byLysippusJ, 
it was not in order to ingratiate himself 
■with ^hose distinguished artists; it was 
from a firm persuasion, that the works of 
these admired geniuses would do equal 
credit both to his reputation and their 
own. The utmost, howe\tr, tiiat art 
could perform, was to perpetuate the 

* Epaininonrlas lKailc<l the forces of the Thc- 
baiis, in a battle wliich they fou-lit with the I«i- 
cedaeiiioiiians at Mantinca, a town in .Vrcailia. 
The Thebans gained tlie victorj', but lost their 
invaluable commaud<r; whose death wjls at- 
tended with the circumstances wliich Cuero here 

f 'I'heinistocles, after having distinguished 
himself among his countrymen tlic Athenians by 
hia railitarj' virtues, particularly in the wars in 
which they were engaged with Xerxes, had ren- 
dered him'-elf so popular, that it was thought ne- 
cessary tp r( mov- him ; and accordingly he was 
obliged V) withdraw from Athens. 

X A famous statuary j of whom Demetrius ic- 
fnarlu, that he was more celebrated for taking a 
strong tliaa an agreeable likeness. 

persons only of their celebrated contem- 
poraries: but merit needs not any such 
visible exhibitions to immortalize its 
fame. Accordingly the Spartan Agesi- 
laus, who would never suffer any picture 
or statue of him to be taken, is not less 
universally known, than those who have 
been most fond of having their persons 
copied out for j)Osterity. The single trea- 
tise which Xenophon 
of that renowned general, is more to his 
glory than all the pictures and statues of 
all the artists in the It would 
be a much higher satisfaction to me, 
therefore, as it would be a far greater 
honour to be recorded by your hand than 
that of any other; not onl)' because your 
genius would raise and adorn my actions 
with the same advantage as TimiT'Us§ has 
displayed those of Timoleon, or Herodo- 
tus those of Thcmistocles ; but because 
of the additional credit I shall receive 
from the applause of so illustrious, so ex- 
perienced, and so approved a patriot. 
Ey this means I shall enjo)^ not only the 
same glorious privilege which, as Alexan- 
der observed when he was at Sigeum, 
Achilles received from Homer j|; but 
Avhat is still more important, the power- 
ful testimony of a man who is himself 
distinguished by the noblest and most un- 
common virtues. Accordingly, I have 
been always wonderfully plea.sed with the 
sentiment which Xievius })uts into the 
mouth of Hector, where that hero, speak- 
ing of the approbation he had received 
from his illustrious father, adds, that it 
gave him so much the more satisfaction, 
as coming from one who was himself the 
great object of universal applause. But 
should want of leisure (lor it would be au 
injustice to our friendship to suppose it 
can be w ant of inclination), should your 
occupations then prevent your compli- 
ance with this my request; I may per- 
haps be obliged to take a method, w hich, 
though often condemned, is supported 
nevertheless by several considerable ex- 
amples — I mean, to be the historian of 
my own transactions. But you are sen- 
sible, there are two inconveniencies 
•which attend this scheme: for a man 
must necessarily be more reserved in 

§ Tlie works of Timacus are lost. 

tl Alexander, being elected commander in 
chief of the confederate troops which the Gre- 
cians .sent against Xerxes, crossed theHellt-sponV 
with his army, and landed at Sigeum, a pro- 
montorj' near Troy^ where be visited the toinlj 
of Achilles. 


Sect. I. 


setting forth those parts of his conduct 
which merit approhation ; as he will be 
iuclinv-d eiitirely to pass over otliers 
which may deserve reproach. I must 
add, likewise, th;. what a writer says to 
his own advantage, always carries with 
it a less degree of force and authority, 
than when it conies from any other pen. 
In a word, thcworld in general is little 
disposed to a[)[)rove anv attempt of this 
kind. On the contrary, one ol'leii hears 
the more modest method of the poets at 
the Olympic games, recommended upon 
such occasions, who, after they have 
crowned the several victors, and public- 
ly called over their names, always em- 
ploy some other person to perform the 
same oftice to themselves, that they may 
not be the heralds of their own applause. 
This imputation, therefore, I would wil- 
lingly avoid; as I certainly shall, if you 
should comply w ith my request, and take 
this emplovment out of my hands. 

You will be surprised, perhaps, that I 
spend so much time and pains in solicit- 
ing you for that purpose, after having so 
often heard you declare your intentions 
of giving the world a very accurate his- 
tory of niv administration. But vou must 
remember the natural warmth of my 
temper, and that I am fired, as I told you 
in the beginning of my letter, with an 
impatient desire of seeing this your de- 
sign carried' into execution. To own th'e 
whole truth, I am ambitious of being 
known to the present generation by vour 
writings, and to enjoy in my lifetime a 
foretaste of that little share of glory which 
I may expect from future ages. If it be 
not too much trouble, therefore, I should 
be «lad you would immediately let me 
know your resolution. And should it 
prove agreeable to my request, I will 
draw up some general memoirs of my 
transactions for your use : if otherwise, I 
will take an opportunity of discoursing 
farther with you upon this all'air in per- 
son. In the mean time, continue to po- 
lish the work you have began, and to 
love me as usual *. 1 arewel. 


To Marcus Marius f . 

[A. U. 698.] 
TF your general valetudinary disposition 
"'■ prevented you from being a spectator 

* Pliny has made a request to Tacitus, of the 
same nature with that which is the subject of the 
letter before us. 

f The persou tg whom this letter is addressed. 

of our late public entertainmonts +, It is 
more to fortune than to philosophy that 
I am to impute your absence. But if you 
declined our party for no other reason 
than as holding in just contempt what 
the generality of the world so absurdly 
admire, I must at once congratulate yoa 
both on your health and your judgment. 
1 say this upon a supposition, however, 
that you were enjoying the philosophical 
advantages of that driightful scene, ii\ 
which, I imagine, vou were almost 
wholly deserted. At the same time that 
your neighbours, probably, were nod- 
ding over the dull humour of our trite 
farces, my friend, I dare say, was in- 
dulging his morning meditations in that 
elegant apartment from whence vou havft 
opened a prosjjoct to Sejanum, through 
the Stabian hills §. And whilst you were 
employing the rest of the day in thos* 
various polite amusements which you 
have the happy privilege to plan out for 
yourself; we, alas, had the mortitication 
of tamely enduring those diamatical re- 
presentations, to which Maetius, it seems, 
our professed critic, had given his infalli- 
ble sanction ; but as you will have the 
curiosity, perhaps, to require a more par- 
ticular account, I must tell you, that 
though our entertainments were extreme- 
ly magnificent indeed, j'et tliey were by 
no means such as you would have relish- 
ed ; at least if 1 may judge of your taste 
by my own. Some of those actors who 
had formerly distinguished themselves 
with great applause, but had long since 
retired, 1 imagined, in order to preserve 
the reputation they had raised, were now 
again introduced upon the stage; as in 
honour, it seems, of the festival. Among 
these was my old friend /Esopus : but so 
different from what we once knew him, 

seems to have been of a temper and constitu- 
tion that placed him far below the aiubition of 
be:n< known to po-;terity. But a private letter 
from Cicero's hand, has been sufficient to dispel 
the obscurity he appears to have loved, and to 
rciuler his retirement conspicuous. 

+ They were exhibited by Pompey at the 
opening of his theatre; one of the most matcniii- 
cent structures of ancient Rome, and so exten- 
sive as to contain no less tlian Si), 000 spectators. 
It was built after the moilel of one which he saw 
at Mitylene, in his return from the Mithridatic 
war ; and adorned with the noblest ornaments of 
statuary and painting. Some remains of this 
immense building still subsist. 

§ Sejanum is found in no other ancient author. 
Stabiae was a maritime town in Campania, situ- 
ated upon the bay of Naples, from whence the 
adjoinias hills here meutioned took their name. 



L L E G A N T L P I 8 T L E S. 

Book I. 

that the whole audience agreed he ought 
to be excused from acting any more. 
For when he was pronouncing the cele- 
brated oath. 
If I dorcivc, be Jove's dread vcnecancc liurl'd, 

the poor old man's voice faiU-d him ; and 
he had not strength to go through with 
the speech. As to the otlicr parts of our 
theatrical entertainments, you know the 
nature of them so well, that it is scarce 
necessary to mention them. They had 
less indeed to plead in their favour than 
even the most ordinary representations 
of this kind can usually claim. The enor- 
mous parade with which they were at- 
tendefl, and which, I dare sav, you would 
very willinglv have spared, destroyed all 
the grace of the performance. What 
pleasure could it afford to a judicious 
spectator, to see a thousand mules pran- 
cing about the stage, in the tragedy of 
Clytiemnestra; or whole regiments ac- 
coutred in foreign armour, in that of the 
Trojan horse? In a word, what man of 
sense could be entertained with viewing a 
mock army drawn dp on the stage in 
battle array ? These, I confess, are spec- 
tacles extremely well adapted to captivate 
vulgar eyes; but undoubtedly would have 
had no charm in yours. In plain truth, 
my friend, you would have received 
more amusement from the dullest piece 
that Protogenes could possibly have read 
to you"^ (my own orations, however, let 
mc always except), than we met with at 
these ridiculous shews. I am well per- 
suaded, at least, you could not regret the 
loss of our Oscian and Grecian farces f. 
Your own noble senate will alwaj's fur- 
nish you with drollery sufficient of the 
former kind;*:; and as to the latter, I 
know you have such an utter aversion to 
everything that bears the name of Greek, 
that you will not even travel the Gre- 

* It W.T! usual with persons of distinction 
aiTion^t the Romans, to keep a slave in their 
family whose sole business it was to reafi to them. 
Prijto;;encs seems to have attended Marius in 
that rapacity. 

+ The Oscian farces were so called from the 
Osci, an ancient people of Campania, from 
whom the Romans received th<-m. They seem 
to have been of the same kind with our Bartho- 
lomew drolls--, and to have consisted of low and 
obscene humour. 

X The municipal or corporate towns in Italy 
*ere governed by magistrates of their own, who 
probably made much the same sort of figure in 
their rural senate, as our burgesses ia their 

cian road to your villa. As I remember 
you once despised our formidable gla- 
diators, 1 cannot suppose you would 
have looked with less conteni|jt on our 
athletic performers: a^^l, indeed, Pom- 
pcy himself acknowledges, that they did 
not answer the pains and expence they 
had cost him. The remainder of our 
diversions consisted in combats of wild 
bea;^ts§, which were exhibited every 
morning and afternoon during five days 
successively ; and it must be owned, ihev 
were magnificent. Yet, after all, what 
entertainment can possiblv arise to au 
clejjant and humanised mmd,froniseein£r 
a noble beast struck to the heart bv its 
merciless hunter, or one ol"o»ir own weak 
species cruelly mangled by an animal 
of much superior strength? But wire 
there any thing really worth observing 
in spectacles of this savage kind, they 
are spectacles extremely familiar to you : 
and those I am speaking of, had not any 
peculiar novelty to recommend them. 
The last day's sport was composed en- 
tirely of elephants; which, though they 
made the common people stare indeed, 
did not seem however to atlbrd them 
any great satisfaction. On the contrary, 
the terrible slaughter of these poor ani- 
mals created a general commiseration ; 
as it is a prevailing notion, that these 
creatures in some degree participate of 
our rational faculties. 

That you may not imagine I had the 
happiness of being perfectly at my ease 
during the whole of this pompous festi- 
val, I must acquaint you, that while the 
people were amusing themselves at the 
plays, I was almost killed with the fa- 
tigue of pleading for your friend Gallus 
Caninus. Were the world as nmch in- 
clined to favour my retreat, as they 
shewed themselves in thecaseof iEsopus, 
believe me, I would for ever renounce my 
art, and spend the remainder of my days 
with you and some others of the same 
philosophical turn. The truth of it is, I 
began to grow weary of this employment, 
even at a time when youth and ambition 
prompted my perseverance ; and I will 
add too, when 1 was at full liberty to ex- 
ercise it in defence of those only whom I 
was inclined to assist. But in my present 

§ Beasts of the wildest and most uncommon 
kinds were sent for upon these occasions, from 
every corner of the known world : and Dion 
CasRJus relates, that no less than .500 lions were 
killfxl at these hunting-matches with which 
Pompey entertained the people. 


Sect. I. 



circumstances, it is absolute slavery : for, 
on the one side, I never expect to reap 
any advantage from my labours of this 
kind; and on the other, in compliance 
with solicitations \\hic!i I cannot refuse, I 
am sometimes under the disagreeable ne- 
cessity of appearing as an advocate in be- 
lialf of those Avho ill deserve tiiat I'avour 
at my hands. For these reasons I am 
framing every possible pretence tor living 
hereafter according to my own taste and 
sentiments : as I highly both approve and 
applaud that retired scene of life which 
you have so judiciously chosin. I am 
sensible at the same time, that this is the 
reason you so seldom visit Rome. How- 
ever, I the less regret that you do not 
see it oftener, as the numberless unpleas- 
ing occupations in which I am engaged, 
would prevent me from enjoying the en- 
tertainment of your conversation, or giv- 
ing you that of mine; if mine, indeed, 
can aflbrd you any. But if ever I should 
be so fortunate as to disentangle myself, 
- in some degree at least (for I am con- 
tented not to be wholly released), from 
these perplexing embarrassments ; I will 
undertaketosheweven my elegant friend, 
wherein the truest refinements of life con- 
sist. In the mean while, continue to 
take care of your healtli, that you may 
be able, when that happy time shall ar- 
rive, to accompany me in my litter to 
my several villas. 

You must impute it to the excess of my 
friendship, and not to the abundance of 
my leisure, that I have lengthened this 
letter beyond my usual extent. It was 
merely in compliance with a retjuest in 
one of yours, where you intimate a de- 
sire that I would compensate inthisman- 
ner what you lost by not being present at 
our public diversions. I shall be ex- 
tremely glad, if I have succeeded; if not, 
I shall have the satisfaction however to 
think, that you will for the f'jture be 
more inclined to give us your company 
on these occasions, than to rely on my 
letters for your anmsement. Farewel. 


To Marcus Licinius Crassus. 

[A. U. 699.] 
T AM persuaded that all your friends 
*■ have informed you of the zeal with 
which I lately both defended and pro- 
moted your dignities : as Indeed it was 
too warm and too conspicuous to have 
been passed oyer in silence. The oppo- 

sition I met with from the consuls *, as 
well as from several others of consular 
rank, was the strongest I ever encouuler- 
ed : and you must now look upon me as 
your declared advocate upon all occasions 
where vour glorv is concerned. Thus 
have I abundantly compensated for the 
intermission of those good ollices, which 
the friendsliip between us had long given 
you a right to claim ; but w hich, by a 
variety of accidents, have lately been 
somewhat interrupted. There never was 
a time, believe me, when I wanted an 
inclination to cultivate your esteem, or 
promote your interest : though, it must 
be owned, a certain set of men, who are 
the bane of all amicable intercourse, and 
who envied us the mutual honour that 
resulted from ours, have upon some oc- 
casions been so unhappily successful as 
to create a coolness between us. It has 
happened, however (what I rather wish- 
ed than expected), that I have found an 
opportunity, even when your affairs were 
in the most prosperous train, of giving a 
public testimouy by my services to you, 
that I alwaysniost sincerely preserved the 
remeinbrance of our former amity. The 
truth is, I have approved myself your 
friend, not only to the full conviction of 
your family in particular, but of all Rome 
in general. In consequence of which, 
that most valuable of women, your ex- 
cellent wifef, togetlier with those illus- 
trious models of virtue and filial piety, 
your two amiable sons, have perpetual 
recourse to my assistance and advice: 
and the whole world is sensible, that no 
one is more zealously disposed to serve 
you than myself 

Your family correspondents have in- 
formed you, I imagine, of what has hi- 
therto passed in your affair, as well as of 
what is at present in agitation. As for 
myself, I intreat you to do me the justice 
to believe, that it was not any sudden 
start of inclination, which disposed me to 
embrace this opportunity of vindicating 
your honour; on the contrary, it was 
my ambition from the first moment I en- 
tered the Forum, to be ranked in the 
number of your friends J. I have the 

* The consuls of this year were L. Domitius 
Ahenobarbus, and Appius Claudius Pulcher. 
•j- This lady's name was TertuUa. 

\ Crassus was almost ten years older than 
Cicero ; so that when the latter first appeared at 
the bar, the former had already established a 
character by his oratorical abilities. 




gtitisfactlon to rcflt^ct, that I have never, 
from that time to this hour, failed in the 
highestseniltiicnts of esteem for you : and 
Idouht not, you have always retained the 
same alTectionate regard towards me. if 
thcetfectsof this mutual disposition have 
been interrupted by any little suspicions 
(forsuspicionsonly, lamsnre, they were), 
be the remembrance of them for ever 
blotted out of our hearts. I am per- 
suaded indeed, from those virtues which 
form your character, and frc>m t hose wh ich 
lam desirous should distinguish wj/«f,that 
our friendly union in the present conjunc- 
ture cannut but be atteuilcd with e;)ual 
honour to us both. What instances you 
may be willing to give meofyoureste^-m, 
must be left to your own determination: 
but they will be such, I flatter myself, as 
may tend most to advance my dignities. 
yor my own part, I faithfully promise 
the utmost exertion of my best services^ 
in every article wherein I can contribute 
to increase yours. Many, I know, will 
be mv rivals in these amicable oftices: 
but it is a contention in which all the 
nvorld, I question I'.ot, and particularly 
your two sons, vill acknowledge my su- 
periority. Be assured, I love them both 
in a very uncommon degree ; though I 
■will own, that Publius is my favourite. 
From his infancy indeed, he discovered a 
singular regard to me ; as he particular!)'- 
distinguishes me at this time with all the 
marks even of filial respect and afl'ec- 

Let me desire you to consider this let- 
ter, not as a strain of unmeaning com- 
pliment, but as a sacred and solemn co- 
Tenant of friendsh"p, which 1 shall most 
sincerely and religiously observe. I shall 
now persevere in being the advocate of 
your honours, not only from a motive of 
aftectioH, but from a principle of con- 
stancy : and without any application on 
vour part, you may depend on my em- 
bracing every opportunity, wherein I 
shall think my services may prove agree- 
able to your interest or your inclinations. 
Can you once doubt then, that any re- 
«]uest to me for this purpose, either by 
yourself or your family, will meet with a 
most punctual observance ? I hope, there- 
fore, you will not scruple to employ me 
in all your concerns, of what nature or 
importance soever, as one who is most 
faithfully your friend : and that you will 
direct your family to apply to ine in all 
their ali'airs of every kind, whether re- 
lating to you or to themselves, to their 

Book L 

friends or their dependents. And be as- 
sured, I shall spare no pains to render 
your absence as little uneasy to them as 
possible. Farcwel. 



To Julius Casar *. 

[.\. u. 6oy.l 
AM goincr to give an instance how 
much I rely upon your afiectionate ser- 
vices, not only towards -ayself, but in 
favour also of my friends. It was my 
i.itention, if I had gone abroad in any 
foreign emijloyment, that Trebatiusf 
should have accompanied me : and he 
would not have returned without receiv- 
ing the highest and most advantageous 
honours I should have been able to have 
conferred upon him. But as Pompey, I 
find, defers setting out upon his com- 
mission longer than I imagined, and I am 
apprehensive likewise that the doubts 
you know 1 entertain in regard to my at- 
tending him, may possibly prevent, a<? 
they will certain Ij^ at least delay, my 
journey ; 1 take the liberty to refer Tre- 
batius to your good offices, for those be- 
nefits he expected to have received from 
mine. I have ventured indeed to pro- 
mise, that he will find you full as well 
disposed to advance his interest, asl have 
always assured him he would find me : 
and a very extraordinary circumstance 
occurred, which seemed to confirm this 
opinion I entertained of your generosity. 
For in the very instant 1 was talking with 
Ealbus upon this subject, your letter was 
delivered to me: in the close of which 
you pleasantly tell me, that " in com- 
" pliance with my request, you will make 
" Orfius king of Gaul, or assign him over 
" to Lepta, and advance any other per- 
" son whom I should be inclined to re- 
" commend." This had so remarkable 
a coincidence with our discourse, that it 
struck both Balbus and myself, as a sort 
ef a happy omen that had something in it 
more than accidental. As it was my in- 

* Cccsar was at this time in Gaul, prepvuin^ 
for his liiat expedition into Britain. 

f This person seems to have been in the 
number of Caesar's particular favourites. Ile.cp- 
pea.s iu this earlier part of his life to have been 
of a more gay and indolent di^^position than is 
consistent with making a figure in business ; but 
he afterwards, however, became a very celebrat- 
ed lawyer : and one of the most acreeable satire; 
of Hoiacc is addressed to lim under tliat ho- 
nourable cbaract'^r. 


Sect. I. 



tention, therefore, before I received your 
letter, to have transmitted Trebatius to 
you; so I now consign him to your pa- 
tronage as upon your own invitation. Ke- 
ceive him then, my dear Caesar, wllli your 
usual generosity; and distinguish him 
with every honour that my solicitations 
can induce you to confer. I do not re- 
commend him in the manner you so justly 
rallied, when I wrote to you in favour of 
Orfius : hut I will take upon me to assure 
vou, in true Roman sincerity, ifiat there 
lives not a man of greater modesty and 
merit. I must not forget to mention also 
(what indeed is his distinguishing qualifi- 
cation), that he is eminently skilled in the 
laws of his country, and happy in an un- 
common strength of memory. I will not 
point out any particular piece of prefer- 
ment, which 1 wish you to bestow upon 
him: I will only in general intreat you 
to admit him into a share of your friend- 
ship. Nevertheless, if you should think 
proper to distinguish him with the tri- 
bunate or prefecture *,or any other little 
honours tjf that nature; I shall have no 
manner of objection. In good earnest, I 
entirely resign him out of my hands into 
yours, which never were lifted up in 
battle, or pledged in friendship without 
efVect. Bui 1 fear I have pressed you far- 
ther upon this occasion than was neces- 
sary : however, I know you will excuse 
my warmth in the cause of a friend. 
Take care of your health, and continue 
Wo love me. Farewel. 


To Trebatius. 

[A. U. 699.1 
T NEVER write to Cresar or IBalbus, with- 
■*• out taking occasion to mention you in 
the advantageous terms you deserve ; and 
this in a style that evidently distinguishes 
me for your sincere well-wisher. I hope 
therefore you will check this idle passion 
for the elegancies of Kome, and resolutely 
persevere in the purpose of your journey, 
till your merit and assiduity shall have 
obtained the desired effect. In the mean 

* Tlie military tribunes were next in rank to 
the lioutonants or commanders in chief under the 
general; is the ;>r,rfectiis le^ionis was the most 
honourable post in the Roman armies after that 
of the miliUry tribunes. The business of the 
former was, among other articles, to decide all 
controvereics that arose among the soldiers ; and 
that of the latter was, to carry thsdiief standard 
•f the Ic^ioiv 

time, your friends here will excuse your 
ab.^encc, no less than the ladies of Corinth 
did that of Mcflea in the plav'i, whea 
she artfully persuades them not to impute 
it to her as a crime, that she had forsaken 
her country : for, as she tells them. 

There an- who distant from the r nativcsoil. 
Still for their own and country's irlory toil : 
While some fast-rooted to their paront-spot, 
lu life arc useless, and in death forgot. 

In this last inglorious class you would most 
certainly have been numbered, had not 
your friends all conspired in forcingyoii 
from Rome. — But more of this another 
time: in the mean while let mc advise 
you, who know so well how to manage 
securities for others, to secure yourself 
from the British charioteers J. And since 
I have been playing the Medea, let mc 
make my exit with the following lines of 
the same tragedy, which arc well worth 
your constant remembrance: 

His wisdom, sure, on folly's confines lies, 
AVho, wise for others, l«r himself' s unwise. 



To the same. 


[A. U. 699.] 
TAKE all opportunities of writing in 
your favour: and I shall be glad you 
would let me know with what success- 
My chief reliance is on Balbus: in my 
letters to whom I frequently and warmly 
recommend your interest" But why 
do you not let me hear from you every 
time my brother dispatches a courier? 

I am informed there is neither gold nor 
silver in all Britain §. If that should be 


f Medea, being enamoured of Jason, assisted 
him in obtaining the golden fleece, and then fle<i 
with him from her father's court. He afterwards 
however deserted her forCreuja, the daughter of 
Creon king of Corinth, whom Medea destroyed 
by certain magical arts. Eunius, a Roman poet 
who flourished about a century before the date 
of this letter, formed a play upon this stoiy. 

X The araiies of the ancient Britons were 
partly composed of troops who fought in open 
chariots ; to the axle-trees of which were fixed 
a kind of short scythe. 

§ A notion had prevailed among the Rom.ans, 
that Britain abounded in gold and silver mines ; 
and this report, it is probable, fiist suggested to 
C«>ar the design of conquering Britain. It was 
soon discovered, however, thac these sources of 
wealth existed only in their own imagnation : and 
all thsir hopes of plunder ended in the little ad • 


E L E G A X T i: P I S T L E S. 



the case, I noiiM ail\ isf you to seize one 
of the enemy's \nilitary cars, ami '^rhc 
back to us with all expedition. ]3ut it' 
you think you shall he able to make your 
fortune witliout the assistance of British 
spoils, by all means establish yourself in 
Cxsiir's friendship. To be serious; both 
my brother and Balbus will be of great 
!»ervice to you for that purpose ; but, be- 
lieve me, your own merit and assiduity 
will prove vour best recommendation. 
You have every favourable circumstance 
indeed for vour advancement, that can 
be wished. On the one hand, you arc in 
the prime and vigour of your years; as 
on the other, you are serving under a 
commander distinguished forlhe genero- 
sity of his disposition, and to whom you 
have been recommended in tin; strongest 
terms. In a word, there is not the least 
fear of your success, if your own concur- 
rence be not wanting. Farewel. 


To Trebatius. 

[A. U. 699.1 
HAVE received a very obliging letter 
from Caesar, wherein he tells me, that 
though his numberless occupations have 
hitherto prevented him from seeing you 
so often as he wishes, he will certain!}' 
find an opportunity of being better ac- 
quainted with you. I have assured him 
in return, how extremely acceptable his 
generous services to you would prove to 
myself. But surely you are much too 
precipitate in your determinations: and 
I could not but wonder that you should 
have refused the advantages of a tribune's 
commission, especially as you might have 
been excused, it seems, from the func- 
tions of that post. If you continue to act 
thus indiscreetly, I shall certainly exhibit 
an ivformutlon against you to your friends 
Vacerraand Manilius. I dare not ven- 
ture, how ever, to lay the case before Cor- 
nelius : for as you profess to have learned 
all your wisdom from his instructions; to 
arraign the pupil of imprudence, would 
be a tacit reflection, you know, upon the 
tutor. But in good earnest, I conjure 
you not to lose the fairest opportunity of 
making your fortune, that probably will 
ever fall again in your way. 

vantage they could make by the sale of their pri- 
soners. Circro, taking notice of this circum- 
ftaiice to Atticus, ridicules the poverty and igiio- 
tauce of our British aucestors. 

Book I. 

I tVcqucntly recommend your interest'' 
to Precianus, whom you mention; and 
lie writes me word that he has done yoii 
some good ofiices. Let nic know of 
what kind they arc. 1 expect a lett«r 
upon your arrival in Britain. Farewel. 


To the same. 

[A. U. 699.] 
T HAVE made your acknowledgments to 
■■■ my brother, in pursuance of your re- 
quest ; and am glad to have an occasion 
of applauding you for being fixed at last 
in some settled resolution. The style of 
your former letters, I will own, gave me 
a good deal of uneasiness. And allow me 
to say, that in some of them you dis- 
covered an impatience to return to the 
polite reftnements of Rome, which had 
the appearance of much levity : that in 
some I regretted your indolence, and in 
others your timidity. They frequently 
likewise gave me occasion to think, that 
you were not altogether so reasonable in 
your expectations, as is agreeable to your 
usual modesty. One would have ima- 
gined, indeed, you had carried a bill of 
exchange upon Ccesar, instead of a letter 
of recommendation : for you seemed to 
think you had nothing more to do than 
to receive your money and hasten hon>e 
again. But money, my friend, is not so 
easily acquired : and I could name some 
of our acquaintance who have been ob- 
liged to travel as far as Alexandria in 
pursuit of it, without having yet been 
able to obtain even their just demands*. 
If my inclinations were governed solely 
by my interest, I should certainly choose 
to have you here: as nothing affords me 
more pleasure than your company, or 
more advantage than your advice and 
assistance. But as you sought my friend- 
ship and patronage from your earliest 
youth, 1 always thought it incumbent 
upon mc to act with a disinterested view 
to your welfare ; and not only to give 
you my protection, but to advance, by 
every means in wy power, both your 
fortunes and your dignities. In conse- 
quence of which, I dare say you have not 
forgotten thqge unsolicited offers I made 
you, when I had thoughts of being em- 
ployed abroad. I no sooner gave up my 

* Alia ding t^ those who supplied Ptolemy 
with money whcu-he was soliciting his atlairsin 


Fret. I. 



intentions of tins kinJ, and pcrcrlved 
that Ca'sar treated nic with great distinc- 
tion rnd friendship, than I recommended 
you in tiic strongest and warmest terms 
to his favour; perfectly well knowing 
the singular probity and benevolence of 
his heart. Acordingly he shewed, not 
only by his letters to me, but by his 
conduct towards you, the great regard he 
paid to my recommendation. If you 
have any opinion, therefore, of my judg- 
ment, or imagine that I sincerely wish 
you well, let me pe'suade you to con- 
tinue with him. And notwithstanding 
you should meet with some things to 
disgust you, as business, perhaps, or 
other obstructions, may render him less 
expeditious in gratifying your views than 
you had reason to expect, still however 
persevere ; and trust nie, you will find it 
prove in the end both for your interest 
and your honour. To exhort you any 
farther, might look like impertinence: 
let me only remind you, that if you lose 
this opportunity of improving your for- 
tune, you will never meet again with so 
generous a patron, so rich a province, or 
so convenient a season for this purpose. 
And (to express myself in the style of 
vour lawyers) Cornelius has given his 
opinion to the same efiect. 

I am glad for my sake, as well as yours, 
that you did not attend Caesar into Britain; 
as it has not only saved i/oii the fatigue of 
a very disagreeable expedition, but me 
likewise that of being the perpetual audi- 
tor of your wonderful exploits. — Let me 
know iu what part of the world you are 
likely to take up your winter-quarters, 
and iu what post you are, or expect to be 
employed, l-arewel. 


To the sa?7ie. 

[A. U. 699.] 

IT is a considerable time since I have 
heard any thing from voa. As for 
myself, if I have not written these three 
months, it was because, after you were 
separated from my brother, I neither 
knew where to address my letters, nor by 
what hand to convey them. I much 
wish to be informed how your aflairs go 
on, and in what part of the world your 
winter-quarters are likely to be fixed. I 
should be glad they might be with Caesar; 
but, as I would uot venture ia his present 

affliction * to trouble him with a letter, I 
have written upon that subject to Balbus. 
In the mean while, let me intrcat you not 
to be wanting to yourself: and for my 
own part, 1 am contented to give up s» 
much more of vour company, provided 
the longer you stay abroad the richer you 
should return. There is nothing, I think, 
particularly to hasten you home, now that 
Vaccrra is dead. However, you are the 
best judge : and I should be glad to know 
what you have determined. 

There is a queer fellow of your ac- 
quaintance, one Octavius or Cornelius (i 
do not perfectly recollect his name), win* 
is perpetually inviting me, as a friend of 
yours, to sup with him. lie has not yet 
prevailed with me to accept his compli- 
ment : however, 1 am obliged to the 
man. Farewel. 


To the same. 


[A. U. G99.] 

PKRCEivE by your letter, that my 
friend ('tesar looks upon you as a most 
wonderful lawyer: and are you not hap- 
py in being thus placed in a countiy 
where you make so considerable a figure 
upon so small a stock? But with how 
much greater advantage would your no- 
ble talents have appeared had you gone 
into Britain? Undoubtedly there would 
not have been so profound a sage in the 
law throughout all that extensive island. 
Since your epistle has provoked me to 
be thus jocose, I will proceed in the same 
strain, and tell you there was one part of 
it I could not read without some envy- 
And hoAT indeed could it be otherwise, 
when I found, that, whilst much greater 
men were in vain attempting to get ad- 
mittance to Caisar, you were singled out 
from the crowd and even summoned to aa 

* Car=av about this time lost his davighter Julia, 
who died iu child-bed. She was married to Pom- 
pey, who was so passionately fond of her, that she 
seems, during the short time they lived tog:other, 
to have taken entire possession of his whole heart, 
and to have turaed all his ambition into the sin- 
gle desire of appearing amiable in her eye. The 
death of this young lady proved a public calami- 
ty, as it dissolved the only forcible bond of union 
between her father and her husband, and hasten- 
ed that rupture which ended inthe destruction of 
the commonwealth. 




Book I. 

aihiionce r * But after givinpf mc an ac- 
count of aflairs which concern others, 
why were you silent as to your own ; 
assured as you arc tliat I interest myself 
in them with as much zeal as if they im- 
mediately related to myself? Accord- 
ingly, as I am extremely afraid you will 
have no tmploi/ment to keep you warm in 
vour winter-quarters, I would by all 
means advise vou to lav in a suflicient 
quantity of fuel. Both Mucins and I\Ia- 
niliusf have given their opinions to the 
same purpo.«e ; especially as your re^i- 
mcntals, they apprehend, will scarce be 
ready soon enougii to secure you against 
the approaching cold. We hear, how- 
ever, that there has been //oMvork in your 
part of the world; which somewhat 
alarmed me for your safety. But I com- 
forted myself with considering, that you 
are nut altogether so desperate a soldier as 
you are a lawyer. It is a wonderful con- 
solation indeed to your friends, to be as- 
sured that your passions are not an over- 
match for your prudence. Thus, as much 
as I know you love the water t. you 
would not venture, I find, to cross it with 
C^sar: and though nothing could keep 
you from the com bats § in Rome, you 
were much too wise, I perceive, to at- 
tend them in Britain. 

But pleasantry apart : you know with- 
eut my telling you, with what zeal I have 
recommended you to Cscsar; though 
perhaps you may not be apprised, that I 
have frecjuently, as well as warmly, writ- 
ten to him upon that subject. I had for 
sometime, indeed, intermitted my solici- 
tations, as I would not seem to distrust 

• Trcbatius, it is probaljlc, had informpd Ci- 
cero in the letter to which this is an answer, that 
he had b( en summoned bj- Cfrsar to attend him 
as his a»sc<sor upon some trial: wliicb seems to 
have led this authoi into the railleries of this and 
tie preceding passages. 

•f Mucius and Manilius, it must be supposed, 
were two lawyers, and particular friends of Trc- 

J The art of swimming; was among the num- 
ber of polite exercises in ancient Rome, and 
esteemed a neccstaryqualilication for every gen- 
tleman. It was indeed fine of the essential arts in 
military discipline, as both the soldiers and offi- 
cers had frequently no other nii.ans of pursuing 
or retreating from the enemy. Accordingly, the 
Cumpus Martins, a place where the Roman 
youth ^ere taught the science of arms, was situ- 
ated on the banks of the Tiber; and they con- 
stantly finished their exercises of this kind, by 
throwing themselves into the river. 

§ Alluding to his fondness of the gladiatorial 

his friendship and generosity: however, 
I thought proper in my last to remind 
him once more of his promise. I desire 
you would let me know what ertect my 
letter has produced ; and at the same 
time give mc a full account of every 
thing that concerns you. Tor I am ex- 
ceedingly anxious to be informed of the 
prospect and situation of your affairs; as 
well as how long you imagine your 
absence is likely to continue. Be per- 
suaded, that nothing could reconcile me 
to this separation but the hopes of its 
proving to your advantage. In any 
other view I should not be so impolitic 
as not to insist on your return : as you 
would be too prudent, I dare say, to de- 
lay it. The truth is, one hour's gay or 
serious conversation together, is of more 
importance to us, than all the foes and 
all the friends that the whole nation of 
Gaul can produce. I intreat you, there- 
fore, to send me an immediate account in 
what posture your atfairs stand : and 
be assured, as honest Chremes says t« 
his neighbour in the play ||, 
Whatever cares thy lab'ring bosom grieve, 
IVIy tongue shall soothe them, or my hand relieve. 



To Sluintus Philippus, Proconsul. 


[A. U. 699.] 
CONGRATULATE your safe return 

from your province in the fulness of 
your fame, and amidst the general tran- 
quillity of the republic. If I were in 
Rome, I should have waited upon you 
for this purpose in person, and in order 
likewise to make my acknowledgments 
to you for j'^our favours to my friends 
Egnatius and Oppius. 

I am extremely sorry to hear that you 
have taken great offence against my 
friend and host Antipater. I cannot pre- 
tend to judge of the merits of the case : 
but I know your character too well not to 
be persuaded, that you are incapable of 
indulging an unreasonable resentment, 
I conjure you however, by our long 
friendship, to pardon for my sake his 
sons, who lie entirely at your mercy. 
If I imagined you could not grant this 
favour consistently with your honour, I 
should be far from making the request ; 

11 In Terence!s play called T7te Self-tormentor. 


Sect. I 



as my regard for y<'ur reputation isiimch 
supc-i i'T to all tfir)siclcr;itioiis of fritiul- 
ilii[) wliiclilovvt totliis faiiiilv. But if I 
am not mistaken (and indeed 1 very pos- 
sibly nin}"), your clemency to^vards tliem 
will rather add to vonr cliaracler, than 
derogate from it. If it be not too much 
trouble, therefore, I i;iiould be glad you 
Mould let me know how far a conipliance 
with my request is in your power: for 
that it is in your inclination, I have not 
the least reason to doubt. Faicwcl. 


To Lucius Valerms*, the Luivyer. 

[A. U. 699.] 

■poR f why should I not gratify your 
^ vanity with that honourable appella- 
tion ? Since, as the times go, my friend, 
confidence will readily pass upon the 
world for skill. 

I have executed the conmiission you 
sent me, and made your acknowledg- 
ments to I.entnhis. But I wish you 
would render my olBces of this kind un- 
necessary, by putting an end to your te- 
dious absence. Is it not more worthy of 
your mighty ambition to be blended with 
your learned brethren at Rome, than to 
stand the sole great wonder of wisdon» 
amidst a parcel of paltry Provincials? 
But I long to rally you in person : for 
which merry pur[)ose I desire you would 
hasten hitheras expeditiously as possible. 
I would by no means, however, advise 
you to take A|)ulia in the way, lest .sonic 
disastrous adventure in those unlucky re- 
gions should prevent our welcoming your 
safe arrival. And in truth, to what pur- 
pose should you visit this your native pro- 
vince Xi* For, like Ulysses when he first 
returned to his Ithaca, you wili bemuch 
too jjrudent, undoubtedly, to lay claim 
to your noble kindred. F'arewel. 

* Valfrius is only known by this Ittter and 
anotlier, wherein Cicero reeoniniend-; hiai to Ap- 
piuf , ns a person who lived in hit family, and for 
whom he tutertaincd a very singular afTect.on. 
He seems to have been one of tliat sort of law- 
yers, who maj' more propeily be said lo be of the 
profession than tlie science. 

f The abrupt beginning of this letter has in- 
duced some of the oorameirtatois to su^pe-jt that 
it is not entire. But Manutius has ^eiy justiy 
observed, that it evidently refers to t!;e inscrip- 
tion : and he produces aa instance of the same 
kind from one of the epistles to Attlcus. 

J Manutius imagines that C.ccro means to 
rally the gb;eurit.y of hi? friend's blitii. 


To Ca'.us Curio §. 

[A.U. 700.1 
rpHOUCH lam sorry you should suspect 
"■- me of neglecting you, I will ac- 
knowledge that I am not so much con- 
cerned at your reproaches for my not 
writing, as 1 am pleased to find that v'ou 
are desirous of hearing from me. Con- 
scious indeed ofnol meriting your friendly 
accusation, the instance it afforded me 
that my letters were acceptable to you, 
was a very agreeable proof of the conti- 
nuance of that alTection which I have al- 
ready so frequently experienced. Believe 
me, I have never omitted writing, when- 
ever any person offered whom I imagined 
likely lo convey my letters into your 
hands: and which of your acquaintance, 
I will venture to ask, is a more punctual 
correspondent tl.'an mysell"? In return, 
however, I have scarce received more 
than cue or two letters front you since 
you left Rome; and those too extremely 
concise. 'I'hus, you see, I can justly re- 
tort your charge: you must not therefore 
pass too severe a sentence on your part, if 
you hoju^ to receive a favourable one oa 
mine. Bui I will dwell no longer on this 
article than to assure you, that since you 
are disposed to accept these memorials of 
my friendship, I doubt not of acquitting 
nn'self to your full satisfaction. 

Though I regret extremely the being 
thus longji deprived of your agreeable 
company; yet I cannot but rejoice at an 
absence which has contributed so much to 
vour liouour; as fortune indeed has, in all 
that concerns you, answered my warmest 
wishes. 1 have only to offer you one 
short piece of advice: and 1 offer it in 
compliance with tlie sincere dictates of 
that singular affection 1 bear you. Let 
me earnestly then intreat you to come 
Avell prepared at your return to act up to 
those great ideas which the world has, 
with so much reason, conceived for your 
spirit and talents. And as nothing can 
ever wear out the deep impressiojis your 
good olUces have stamped upon my 

§ Curio was a yo'nif nobleman of threat parts, 
spirit, and eloquence; t>iit a.idicted t^' tlie prevail* 
icg luxury and gallantries of a most dissoUUe age. 

1| Curio had been most probably aosent from 
r..>!ne about two yeais: for Caiui Clodius, to 
whom he is suppesed to have been quastor, ob- 
tained the govenuneat ul Asia »u. urb. 693. 

C miud ; 


r L K G A N T i: P I S T L i: s. 

Book f. 


iniml ^ ; so 1 hope yon will not f<»r;:^ct. on 
yovirsiilr.that yon coulil not have att.iin- 
ttl those honour-; or atlvantiicjts that at- 
ti n»l vou, it'vou had not in the earlier part 
ol" vonr life complied with niv faithful 
nndatreclionatc admonitions. Have I not 
rca-ion then to exp_ct iu return, that as 
the weight of old a;^e now betjins to bend 
lue down t, you will suller me to repose 
my declining years upon your youth and 
friendship? Tarcwel. 


To Trcbatiiis. 

[A. I'. ".O^.] 
[■ you were not already in the number 
of nijr absentees, undoubtedly von 
>vould be tempted to leave iis at this 
juncture: for what business can a lawyer 
expect in Rome during this Ion:,' and 
general suspension of all juridical pro- 
ceedings? Accortlingly, f advise uiy 
friends " lio have anv actionscomnienced 
against them, to petition each successive 
interrext fur a double enlargement of 
the Usual time for putting in their pleas: 
and is not this a proof how wonderfuliv I 
have profited by your sage instructions in 
the law? But tell me, my friend, siice 
your letters, I observe, have lately run in 
a more enlivened strain than usual, what 
is it that has elevated von into so gay a 
humour? This air of pleasantry I like 
•well ; it looks as if the world went suc- 
cessfully with you: and I am all impa- 
tience to know what it is that has thus 
raised your spirits. You inform me in- 
deed, that Caisaj- does you the honour to 
advise with you. Eor my own part, how- 
ever, I had rather hear 'that he consulted 
your interest, tiian your judgment. But 
8 riously ; if the former is really the case, 
or there isany probability of its proving 
.s<^, let me intreat you to continue in your 
present situation, and patiently submit to 
the inconveniences of a military life: as 
on my part, I shall support niyself under 
your absence with the hopes of its turning 
to your advantage. But if all expecli^ 
tioos of this kind are at an end, let us see 

* Curio assisted V\m in his contest withClodius. 

t Cicero n-as at this time in his 34th year. 

X This office of InUrre.r continued only five 
days ; at the expiration of which, if consuls were 
not chosen, a new Interrex was appointed for the 
sainf short period. And in this manner the suc- 
ci'Sii'.n of these occasional magistrates wa.s car- 
rieJ <»n, till th« elections were dgterHiiHcck 

you as soon as possible : and perhaps 
some method may be found here, of iuv 
jiroving your fortunes. If not, we shall 
at least have the satisfaction of enjoying 
each other's company: and one hour's 
conversation together Is of more value to 
us, my friend, than the whole city of 
Samaiobriva. Besides, if von return 
soon, the disappointnu'nt you have suf- 
I'ered may pass unremarked: whereas, a 
longer pursuit to no purpose woulil be so 
ridiculous a circumstance, that I am ter- 
ribly afraid it would scarce escape the 
drollery of those very arch fellows La- 
berins§ and \\\y companion Valerius |], 
And wliut a burlesque character would u 
British lawyer furnish out for tliu Roman 
stage! You may smile perhaps at this 
notion : but though I mention it in my 
usual style of pleasantry, let me tell vou 
it is no jesting matter. In good earnest, 
if there is any pios])ect that my recom- 
mendations will avail in obtaining the 
honours you dc-crve, I cannot but exhort 
you, in all the sincerity of the warmest 
i'riendshij), to make yourself easy under 
this absence, as a means of increasing 
both your fortunes and your fame: if 
not, I would strongly advise your return. 
1 have no doubt, however, that your 
own merit, in conjunction with my most 
zealous services, will jjrocure you every 
advantage you can reasonably desire- 
Fare wel. 



To ih: same. 

[A. U. 700.] 
WAS wondering at the long intermission 
of your letters, when my friend Pansa 
accoutitcd foryour indolence, by assuring 
me that you were turned an Epicurean. 
Glorious viVf^ct indeed of camp conversa- 
tion ! But if a metamorphosis so extraor- 
dinary has been wrought in you amidst 
tlie martial air of Samarobriva, what 

§ Laberiuis wns a Roman knight who distin- 
puishedliimsclfby his comic humour ; and he had 
written several farces which were acti-d with 
great applaus•.^ Ho was prevailed upon by Caesar 
to take a part himself in one of his own per- 
formances J and the prologue which he spoke 
upon that occasion is still extant. J.aberius was 
60 years of age, when in complaisance to Caesac 
he thus made his first entrance upon the stage. 

II Tiiis Valerius is supposed by some of the 
commentators to be Quintus Valerius Catullus, 
a celebrated poet, who, as appear.^ by his works 
which arc still extant, was patronizod by Cicero. 


Sect. I. 



vcouUl have been tliP ronscquenrc had I 
sent you to the softer regions oi' Tareii- 
turp ? * I have been in some pain tor 
vour principles, I confess, ever since your 
intimacy with my friend Seius. liut how 
will you reconcde your tenets to your 
profession, and act for the interest of 
your ciitnt, now that you have adopte>l 
the maxim of doing notliiog but for your 
own ? With what grace can you insert 
the usual clause in your deeds of agree- 
ment: T/ie parties t;> tliese presents, as be- 
comes i^ond vien and true, <S'c. ? For nei- 
ther trutli nor trust can there be in those 
who professedly govern themselves upon 
motives of absolute selfishness. I am in 
some pain likewise, how you will settle 
the law concerning the partition of 
" rights in common;" as tliere can be 
nothing in common between those who 
make their own private gratification the 
sole criterion of right and wrong. Or 
can yon think it proper to adniinister ^n 
oath, while you maintain that Jupiter is 
incapable of all resentment r In a word, 
what will become of the good people of 
Ulubra?f, who have placed themselves 
tinder your protection, if you hold the 
maxim of your sect, that " a wise man 
" ought not to engage himself in public 
" aflairs?'' In good earnest. 1 shall be 
extremely sorry if it is true that you have 
really deserted us. But if your conver- 
sation is nothing more than a convenient 
compliment to the opinions of Pansa, I 
will forgive your dissimulation, provided 
YOU let nte know soon how your atlairs 
JO on, and in what manner 1 can be of 
auy service in theiai. Tarcwel. 


To Cuius Curio. 

[A. U. 700.] 
UR friendship, I trust, needs not any 
other evidence to contirm its since- 
rity, than what arises fronuhe testinjonv 
of our own hearts. 1 cannot, houexer, 
but consider the death of your illustrious 
father, as depriving me of a most vene- 
rable witness to that singular ailection I 

•^ Tarciitum was a city in Italy, riis*in5:uishcil 
for the softness and liixu;y of its iiihal>itaiits. 

f Cicero jocost'U' tipeaks of this ijouplo, as if 
6hey belonged to tlie most considerable town in 
Italy ; whereas it was so mean and contemptible 
a, place, that Horace, in order to sIkw thu jiower 
of contentment, saj^s, that a person jiosrces.ied of 
that excellent tempsr of mind, may iat hupoy 
"\ eii Hi l.'lubr». 


bear vou. I regret that he had not the 
satislaction of taking a last farewel of 
yon, before he closed his eyes : it was 
the only circumstance wanting to render 
Iii:n as much superior to the rest of the 
vcrld in his domestic happincss,as in his 
public famcl. 

I sincerely wish you the happy enjoy- 
ment of your estate : and be assured, yon 
will find in me a friend who loves and 
values you with the same tenderness as 
your father himself conceived for you. 


To Trelatius. 

March tlie 2 ith. [A. U. 700.] 

C\N yon seriously suppose me so un- 
reasonable as t'l be angry, because I 
thought vou discovered too inconstant a 
disposition in your impatience to leave 
(iaul r ^\nd can you possibly believe it 
was for that veaso« I have thus long 
omitred writing ? The truth is, I was 
only concerned at the uneasiness which 
seemed to have overcast your mind : and 
I forbore to write, upon no other account 
but as being entirely ignorant where to 
direct my letters. I suppose, however, 
that this'is a plea which your loitiness 
will scarce condescend to admit. liut tell 
me then, is it the weight of your purse, 
or the honour of being the counsellor of 
Ciesar, that most disposes you to be thus^ 
insutl'erably arrogant? Let me perish if 
I do not be'lieve that thy vanity is so im- 
ijioderate, as to choose rather to share in 
his council than his colters, liut nIiouM 
he admit you into a participation of both, 
you will undoubtedly swell into such in- 
tolerable airs, that no mortal w ill be able 
to endure you : or none at least except 
Hiyseif, who am philosopher enough, you 
kiiow, to endure any thing. But I was 
going to tell you, that as I regretted llie 
uneasiness vou formerly expressed ; so I 
rejoice to "near, that you are better re- 
conciled to your situation.. Aly only 
fear is, that your wonderial skill in the 

+ He was consul in the year of Home 670, 
when he acted with trrear spnit in ^ppusitioa to 
to the attempts of Sicmius for ve.toiiiiii the tr.bu- 
nitial pjvvev, which had b^iri much aoridgtd by 
Sylla. In the foHowinti,- year he went eoveriior 
iiito Macedonia, ami by ins military conauct in 
that province obtajicd tiie honour o' a triumph. 
He oLsting-ni-heJ hinis<>lf amonj the friends of 
Cicerd wh>iu ho w^'s attacked b.y Clodiu*. 

C 2 law 



Book I. 

Jaw will little avr?i! you in your present 
c]uariei-s: lor 1 am idKI that the people 
}0u have to tloa! with. 

Rest the stTcuzUi of tucir cause on the force of 

their niiclit. 
And the iworJ is supreme avbitratur of ri?ht*. 

As I know you do not choose to be con- 
cerned in forcihle entries, and are much 
too peaceably disposed to be fond of 
making <i!-sault.<>, let me leave a peace of 
advice with my lawyer, and by all moans 
recommend it to you to avoiil the Tre- 
■virif ; for I hear thry are most formi- 
tlable fellows. I wish from my heart they 
were as harmless as their name-sake ^ 
round the edges of our coin *. But I 
must reserve the rest of my jokes to an- 
other opportunity: in the mean time, let 
me dc-^ire you would send me a full ac- 
count of whatever is going forward in 
your pj-oviiice. Farewel. 


To Cuius Curio. 

(A. V. 70(1.) 
•^ov must not impute it to any neglect 
^ in Kupa, that he has not cxecutod 
yourcomniission ; as he omitted it merely 
in compliance with the opinion of myseff 
and the rest of your friends. We thought 
it most prudent that no steps should be 
taken during your absence, which might 
preclude you from a change qf measures 
after your return: and therefore, that it 
would be best he should not signify yoor 
intentions of entertaining the people with 
public games. I may perhaps in some 
future letter give you my reasons at large 
against your executing tliat design: or 
rather, that you may not come prepared 
to answer my objections, J believe it will 
be the wisest way to reserve them till we 
meet. If I should not bring vou over to 
my sentiments, I shall liavc the satisfac- 
tion, at least, of discharging the part of a 
friend : and should it happen (which I 
hope however it will not) that you should 

* Ennlus. 

fThe 'I'rtrviri were a inoet warlike people, 
bordering: on Germany. They were defeated 
about this time by Labicnus, one of Cajsar's 
lieutenants in Gaul. 

+ The public eoin was under the inspection of 
tiirec officers calle<l 'J'rniri tnoneia/es : and seve- 
ral pieces of money arc still extant in the cabi- 
aets of the curious, inscribed with the names cf 
»hesfi aia^strate";. 

hereafter havc<»craslon to repent of your 
scheme; you mav then remember, that 
I endeavoured "> ilissuade you bom it. 
But this much I will now sav, that those 
advantages which fortune, in conjunction 
with 3'our own industry and natural en- 
dowments, have put into your possession, 
supply a far surer method of opening 
your way to the highest dignities, than 
any ostentatious display of the most 
splendid spectacles. Tiie truth of it is, 
cxhibliions of this kind, as they are in- 
stances of wealth only, not of merit, are 
by no means considered as reflecting any 
honour on the authors of them : not to 
mention, that the public is quite satiated 
with their frequent returns. But I am 
fallen unawares into what I designed to 
have avoided, and pointing out my par- 
ticular reasons against your schente. I 
will wave all farther discussion therefore 
of this matter till we meet; and in the 
mean time inform you, that the world 
entertains the highest opinion of your 
virtues. Whatever advantages may be 
hoped from the most exalted patriotism 
united with the greatest abilities, the 
public, believe me, expects from you. 
And should you come prepared (as I am 
sure you ouglit, and I trust you will) to 
act u)) to these its glorious expectations; 
then, indeed, you will exhibit to v«>uv' 
friends, and to the commonwealth in ge- 
neral, a spectacle of the noblest and most 
alfecting kind§. In the mean while be, 
assured, no man has a greater share of 
my affection and esteem than yourself. 


To Trcbatius. 

.April the 8th. [A. U. 700.] 
rpwo or three of your letters which 
-*■ lately came to my hands at the same 
time, thougli of different dates, have af- 
forded me great pleasure : as they were 
proofs that you have reconciled yourself, 
with much spirit and resolution, to the 
inconveniencies of a military life. 1 had 

§ Curio was not of a disposition to listen to 
♦ his prudent coniisel of his friend : but in oppo- 
sition to all the j;rave advice of Cicero, he perse- 
vered in his resolution, and executed it with great 
magnificence. 'I'he consequence was Just what 
Cicero foresaw and dreaded : he contracted debts 
which he was incapable of discharging, and then 
sold himself to (^asar in order to satisfy the 
damourij of his creditors. 


Sect. L 



some little suspicion, I confess, of the 
crntrary : not that I questioned your 
courage, but as imputing your uneasi- 
ness to the regret of our separation. 
Let me entreat you then to persevere in 
your present t<inper of mind: and he- 
Jieve me, you will derive maiiv and consi- 
derable advantages from the service in 
vhich you are engaged. In the mean 
while, I shall not fail to renew my soli- 
citations to Ctpsar in your favour upon 
all proper occasions; and have herewith 
sent you a (j'rcek letter to deliver to him 
for that purpose: for, in truth, you can- 
not be more anxious than I am that this 
cxpeditiou may prove to your benefit. 
In return, I desire vou would send me a 
full relation of tlie Gallic war; lor you 
must know, I always depend most upon 
the accounts of til'. -e Avho are lease en- 
gaged in the action. 

As I do not imagine you are altogether 
s^o coiisideruble a per=;oiias to retain a. se- 
cretary in your service, I could not but 
bonder you sliould tmuble yourself with 
the precaution of sending me several co- 
pies of the same letter. Your parsimony, 
however, deserves to be applauded ; as 
one of them, I observed, was written 
upon a tablet that had been used before. 
1 cannot conceive what unhappy com- 
position could be so very miserable as to 
deserve to give place upon thi.s occasion : 
unless it were one of your own convey- 
ances. I flatter myself, at least, it was 
not any spritely epistle of mine that you 
thus disgraced, in order to scribble over it 
a dull one of your own. Or was it your 
intention to intin)ate affairs go so ill with 
you, that you could not afford any better 
materials .' If that should be your case, 
you must even thank yourself for not 
leaving your modesty behind you. 

I shall recommend you in very strong 
ternis to Balbus, when he returns into 
Gaul. But 3'ou must not be surprised if 
you should not hear from me again so 
soon as usual ; as I shall be absent from 
Rome during all this month. I write 
^this from Poniptinus, at the villa of Me- 
trilius Phileuion, where I am placed 
Avithin hearing of those croaking clients 
vhom you reconunended to my protec- 
tion : for a prodigious nund)er, it seems, 
«f your Ulubrean frogs* are assembled, 

* Cicero ludicrouUy gives tl>e inhabitants of 
Ulubrx this appellation, in alhi'^ioii to the low 
and usaisby situation of their town. 

in ordcrto compliment my arrival among 
them. Farewel. 

P. S. I have destroyed the letter I re- 
reived from you by the hands of Lueius 
Aruntius, though it was much too inno- 
cent to deserve so severe a treatment : for 
it contained nothing that micht not have 
been proclaimed before a ;ieneral assem- 
bly of the people. However, it was 
your express desire I .-iiouid destroy it ; 
audi [i\\' cximplied acc( rdiiigly. I will 
only add, that I wonder nijcl'i at not 
having heard from you since ; especially 
as so many extrao dinary (events have 
lately happened in your province. 


To Cuius Curio. 

(A. U. TOO.) 
"DuBLic aflairs are so circumstanced, 
that I dare not communicate my sen- 
timents of them in a letter. This,' how- 
ever, I will venture in general to say, 
that 1 have reason to congratulate you on 
your removal fioni the scene in which 
we are engaged. Hut I must add, that in 
Avhatever part of the world you might be 
placed, you would still (as I told you in 
my last) be emb:^rked in the same com- 
mon bottom with your friends here. I 
have another reason likewise for rejoiciifg 
in your absence, as it has placed your 
merit in full view of so considerable a 
number of the most illustrious citizens, 
and allies of Rome: and indeed the re- 
putation you have acquired is universally, 
and without the least exception, con- 
firmed to us on all hands. But there is 
one circumstance attending you, upon 
which 1 know not wh; ther I ought to 
send you my congratulations or not: I 
nitran with respect to those high and sin- 
gular advantages which the common- 
wealth promises itself from your return 
amongst us. Xot that I suspect j'ouv 
proving unequal to the opinion which the 
world entertains of your virtues ; but as 
fearing that whatever is most worthy of 
your care, will be irrecoverably lost ere 
your arrival to prevent it : su. h, alas, is 
the weak and well-nigh expiring condi- 
tion of your unhappy republic ! Butpru- 
dence, perhaps, will scarce justify me in 
trusting even this to a letter: for thercst 
therefore I must reter you to others. In 
the mean while, w hatever your ftars or 
your hopes of public aflairs may be ; 
C J thinl.. 


E L E G A NT E P I S T L E S. 


think, my friend, incessantly think on 
those virtues \vlii( li tiiat generous patriot 
must possess, who in tliese evil times, 
anJ amidst sucli a general depravation 
ot manners, gloriouslv proposes to vin- 
dicate the ancient dignity and liberties 
of his oppressed country, larcwe!. 


To Ticbatius. 

(A. V. TOO.) 
T ■■ it were not for the coniplinjcnts you 
-■■ sent me by Chrysippus the freeman 
of Cyrus the architect, I should have 
imagined 1 no longer possessed a place 
in your thoughts. But surely you are 
become a most intolerable fine gentlc- 
man, that you could not bear the fatigue 
of writing to me; «I)en you had the op- 
portunity of doing so by a man whom, 
you know, J look upon as one almost of 
my own family. Perhaps, however, you 
may hrive forgotten the use of your pen, 
and so much the better, let me tell you, 
for your clients; as they will lose no 
more causes by its blunders. But if it is 
myself only that has escaped vour re- 
membrance ; I must endeavour to reiVesh 
it by a visit, before I am worn out of 
your mind beyond all power of recollec- 
tion. After all, is it not the apprehen- 
sions of the next summer's campaign, 
that lias rendered your hand too unsteady 
to perform its cilice.^ If so, you must e'en 
play over again the same gallant strata- 
gem you practised last year in relation to 
your British expedition, and frame some 
heroic excuse for your absence. How- 
ever, I Avas extremely glad to hear by 
Chrj-sippus, that you are much in Giu- 
sai-'s good graces. But it would be more 
like a man of c(juilj/, methinks, as well as 
more agreeable to my inclinations, if you 
■were to give me frecjucnt notice of what 
concerns you, by your own hand: a sa- 
tisfaction I should undoubtedly enjov, if 
you had chosen to study the luvji, of good 
fellowship, rather than those of conten- 
tion. You see I rally you, as usual, in 
your own way, not to say a little in mine. 
But to end seriously ; be assured, as I 
greatly love you, I am no less confident 
than desirous of your aiiijction in return. 

L E T T r. R xxviir. 

To Titus Fa dins. 

(A. r. 700.) 
T KNOW not anr'event which has lately 
■*■ happened, that more sensibly allecls 
me than your disgrace. Far therefore 
from being capjible of giving you the 
consolation 1 wHsh, I greatly stand in 
need of the saute good oflice myself. 
IS'evertheless, I cannot forbear, notonly to 
exhort, but tu (onjure you likewise bv 
our friendship, to collect your whole 
strength of reason, in order to oppose 
your aUliction with a firm and manly 
ibrtitude. Kemcndier, my friend, that 
calamities are inciilent to all mankind, 
but particularly to us who live in these 
miserable and disiracted times. Let it 
be your consolation, however, to reflect, 
that you have lost far less by fortune 
than you have acquired by merit: as 
there are lew, under the circumstances 
of vour birth, who ever raised themselves 
to the same dignities; though there are 
numbers of the highest quality who have 
sunk into the same disgrace. To say 
truth ; so wretched is the fate which 
threatens our laws, our liberties, and our 
constitution in general, that well may he 
esteem himself happily dealt with, who 
is dismissed from such a distempered go- 
vernment upon the least injurious terms. 
As to your own case in particular, when 
you reflect that you are still undeprived 
of your estate ; that you are happy in the 
alVections of your children, your family, 
and your friends ; and that in all proba- 
bility you are only separated from them 
for a short interval : when you reflect, 
that among the great number of im- 
peachments which have lately been car- 
ried on, yours is the only one that was 
considered as entirely groundless; that 
you were condemned by a majority only 
of one single vote, and that too univer- 
sally supposed to have been given in com- 
pliance with snme powerful influence — 
These, undoubtedly, are considerations 
which ought greatly to alleviate the 
weight of your misfortune. I will only 
add, that you may always depend upon 
finding in me that disposition both to- 
wards yourself and your family, which 
is agreeable to your wishes, as well as to 
what you have a right to expect, pare" 

.Sect. I. 



To Marcus CiUus. 

July thf 6th. (A. r. TOC.) 

CocLD vou seriously then imagine, n)V' 
trii-ntl, that I commissioned you to 
send me the idle news of the town ; 
matches ot" gladiators, adjournments o( 
causes, robberies, and the rest of those 
tininteresting occurrences, which no one 
ventures to mention to mc, even when 1 
am in the midst of them at Rome? I'ar 
other arc the accounts which I expect 
from your hand : as I know not any man 
■whose judgment in jjolitics I have more 
reason to value. I should esteem it a 
niisemployment of your talents, even 
were you to transmit to me those more 
important transactions t!)at daily ari.-e in 
the republic; nidess they shoidii happen 
to relate immediately to myself. There 
are other less penetrating politicians, who 
will send me intelligence of this sort : 
and I shall be abundantly supplied with 
it likewise by common fame. In short, 
it is not an account either of w hat has 
lately been transacted, or is in present 
agitation, that I require in your letters : 
I expect, as from one whose discernment 
is capable of looking far into futurity, 
your opinion of what is likely to happen. 
Thus, b}' seeing a plan, as it were, of the 
republic, I shall be enabled to judge what 
kinil of structure will jjrobably arise. 
Hitherto, however, I have no reason to 
charge you with having been negligent 
in communicating tome yourprophctic 
conjectures. For the events which have 
lately happened in the commonwealth, 
were much beyond any man's penetra- 
tion: I am sure at least they were beyond 

I passed several days with Ponipev, in 
Gonversation upon public aflfairs: but it 
is neither prudent, nor possible, to give 
you the particulars in a letter. In gene- 
ral, however, 1 will assure you, that he 
is animated with thi^ most ])atriotic sen- 
timents, and is prudently prepared, as 
Mcll as resolutely determined, to act as 
the interest of the republic sliall require. 
I would advise you therefore wholly to 
attach y-ourself to him: and believe ipe, 
he will rejoice to embrace you as his 
friend. He now indeed entertains the 
same opinion both with you and myself, 
of the good and ill intentions of the dif- 
ferent parties in the republic. 

I have spent the last ten days at 
Athens; from whence I am this moment 
setting out. During my continuance in 
this city, I have frequently enjoyed the 
company of our friend Ciallus Caninius. 

I rcconnnend all my affairs to your 
care and j)rotcctioii, but particularly 
(what indeed is my principal concern) 
that my residence in the province may 
not be prolonged. I will not jjrcscribe 
the methods you should employ for that 
purpose; as you are the most competent 
judge by what means, and by whose 
intirvention, it may be best efl'ected. 


To Tcrentia and Tulliu. 

Atlu-ns, Oct<jl)er tlio 19th. (A. U. 703). 
rpiiE anjiable young Cicero and ray.>elf 
-■■ are perfectly well, if you and my 
dearest Toll V are so. We arrived here* 
on the 11th of this month, after a very 
tedious and disagreeable passage, occa- 
sioned by contrary winds. Acastusf met 
me upon my landing, with letters from 
Rome; having been so expeditious as to 
jierform his journey in one-and-twenty 
days. In the packet which he delivered 
to me, I found you's, wherein you ex- 
])ress some uneasiness lest your former 
litttrs should not have reached my hands. 
They have, mv Tercntia: and 1 am ex- 
tremely obliged to you for the very full 
accounts y^ou gave me of every thmg I 
was concerned to know. 

I am by no means surprised at the 
shortness of vour last, as you had reason 
to expect us so soon. It is with great 
impatience I wish for that meeting: 
though I am sensible, at the same time, 
of the unhappy situation in which I shall 
find the republic. All the letters indeed 
which I re<.eived by Acastus, agree in 
assuring me, that there is a general ten- 
dency to a civd war : so that when I 
come to Rome I shall be under a neces- 
sity of declaring myself on one sideor the 
other. However, sine e there is no avoid- 
ing tiie scene Nvhich fortune has prepared 
for lue, I shall be the more expeditious 
in my journey, that I may the better 
deliberate on the several circumstances 
which must uetcrniine my choice. Let 
me iutreat you to riK-et n.e as far on my 
way as your health will permit. 

* Athens. t A ficcJ-mnn belcnguis to Cir <'ro. 
C t The 


E L E G A N T E P I S 1 L E S. 

Book I. 

The legacy which Precius has left nic, 
is an acquisition that I receive with great 
concern, as I uniderly loved him, anil 
extrcmelv lament his death. If his estate 
should be put up to auction before my 
niTival, I beg you would recommend my 
interest in it to the care of Atticus: or in 
Ca>e his aftairs should not allow him to 
undertake the olhce, that you would re- 
quest the same favour of Camillus. And 
if this should not fmd you at Rome, I 
desire you would send proper directions 
thither for that purpose. As for my 
other aflairs, 1 hope I shall be able to 
F£ttle them myself: for I purpose to be 
in Italy, if the gods favour my voyage, 
about the 13th of November. In the 
mean time I conjure you, my amiable 
and excellent Terentia, and thou my 
dearest Tullia, I conjure you both bv all 
the tender regards you bear me, to lake 
care of your healths. Earewcl. 


To Tiro *. 

November the 3d. [.A. U. 703.] 

I DID not imagine I should have been 
so little able to support your absence: 
but indeed it is more than I can well 
bear. Accordingly, notwithstanding it is 
of the last importance to my interest f 
that I should hasten to Rome, yet I can- 
not but severely reproach myself for hav- 
ing thus deserted you. However, as you 
seemed altogethtr averse'from pursuing 
your voyage till you should re-establish 
your health, I approve of your scheme ; 
and I still approve of it, if you continue 
in the same sentiments. Nevertheless, if, 
after having taken some refreshment, you 
should think yourself in a condition to 
follow me; you may do so, or not, as you 
shall judge proper. If you should de- 
termine in the affirmatlvf, I have sent 
Mario to attend you: if not, I have or- 
dered him to return innnediately. Be 
well assured, there is nothing I more ar- 

* He was a favourite slave of Circro, wlso 
irained him up in his fainily, ami formed him 
under his own immediate ttiitioii. The probity 
of his manners, the elegance of his gcriius, and 
his uncommon erudition, reoommended him to 
his master's peculiar esteem and affotion. 

f As Cicero was full of the hopes of olitaining 
atriumph, he was dc-irous of hastcniii; to Rome 
before the dissensions between Caesar and I'oiti,Jcy 
should be arrived at so great a height as to render 
it impossible for him to enjoy that honour. 

dently desire than to have you with me, 
provided I may enjoy that pleasure with- 
out prejudice to yourself. But be assured 
too, that if your continuing somewhat 
longer at Patra?;^ should be thought ne- 
cessary, I prefer your health to all other 
consitierations. If you should embark 
immediately, you may overtake me at 
Leucas^. But if you are more inclined 
to defer your voyage till your recovery 
shall be better confirmed, let me intreat 
you to be very careful in choosing a safe 
ship ; and that you would neither sail at 
an improper season, nor without a con- 
voy. 1 particularly charge you also, my 
dear Tiro, by all the regard you bear me, 
not to suffer the arrival of ^Iario, or any 
thing that I have said in this letter, in 
the least to influence your resolution- 
Believe me, whatever will be most agree- 
al)!('. to yotir health, will be most agree- 
able likewise to my inclinations: and 
therefore I desire you would be wholly 
governed by your own prudence. 'Tis 
true, I am extremely desirous of your 
companj', and of enjoying it as early as 
possible : but the same atfection which 
makes me wish to see you soon, makes 
me wish to see you well. Let your 
health therefore be your first and princi- 
pal, care; assuring yourself, that among 
all the numberless good offices I have ro-. 
ceived at your hands, 1 shall esteem this 
by far the most acceptable. 


To the savic. 

Lcucas, Nov. the 7th. [A. U. 703.] 
■V7"0t;B letter produced very ditlerent 
■*■ ellt-cts on my mind; as the latter 
part somewhat alleviated the concern 
which the former had occasioned. I arn 
now convinced that it will not be safe 
for you to proceed on your voyage, till 
your health shall be entirely re-establish- 
ed : and I shall see you soon enough, 
if I see you perfectly recovered. 

I find by your letter that you have a 
good opinion of your physician : and I am 

J A city in Peloponnesus, which still subsists 
under the name of Patras. Cicero had left Tiro 
indisposed in this place, the day before the date 
of thr- present letter. 

§ A little Grecian island in the Ionian sea, 
now called Saint Maure. It v.-as on tliis island 
that the celebrated promontory stood, frorq 
whence the tender Sappho is said to have thrown 
hei^elf in a fit of amorous despair. 


Sect, h 



told he deserves it. However, I can hy 
no means approve of the regimen he 
prescriljcd : tor broths cannot cerlaiiily 
be suitable to so weak a stomacli. I have 
written to him very I'ully cone LTuing yon; 
as also to Lyso. 1 have ilonc the same 
likewise to my very obliging friend Cti- 
rius: and have particularly requested 
liini, if it shoidd be agreeable to your- 
self, that he woidd remove you into his 
house. I am ap[)rehcn'^ivc in(h:cd that 
Lyso will not give you proper atten- 
dance: in the lirst place, because care- 
lessness is the general characteristic of 
nil his countrymen*; and in the next, 
because he has returned no ans\\ er to mv 
letter. Nevertheless, as j'oii mciition him 
wit!) esteem, i leave i'. to you to coMtiuue 
with him, or not, just as yon shall think 
proper. Let me only enjoin you, my 
dear Tiro, not to sp ae anv expence that 
may be necessary towards your recovery. 
To this end, I iiavc desired Curius to 
supply you with whatever money you 
shall require : and 1 think it wonld be 
proper, in order to render your physician 
the more careful in his attendance, to 
make him some present. 

Numberless are the services I have 
received from you, both at home and 
abroad; in nn^ public and my private 
transactions ; in the course of my studies 
and the concerns of my family. Eut 
would you crown them all, let it be by 
your care that I may see you (as I hope 
I soon shall) perfectly recovered. If 
your health siiould permit, I think you 
cannot do better than to take the oppor- 
tunity of embarking with my quiestor 
Mescinius; for he is a good-natured man, 
and seems to have conceived a friendship 
for you. The care of your voyage in- 
deed is the next thing 1 wouid recom- 
mend to you, after that of your health. 
However, I would now by no means 
have you hurry yourself; as my single 
concern is for your recovery. Be as- 
sured, my dear Tiro, that all my friends 
are yours; and consequently, as your 
health is of the gre.itest importance to 
me as well as to yourself, there are num- 
bers who are solicitous for its preserva- 
tion. Your assiduous attendance upon 
me has hitherto prevented you from 
paying due regard to it. But now that 
you are wholly at leisure, 1 conjure you 
to devote all your application to that 
bingle object : and I shall judge of the 

* The GicciauF, 

adection you bear me, by your com- 
pliance with this request. Adieu, my 
dear i'iro, adieu ! adieu ! may you soon 
be restored to the perfect enjoyment of 
your health I 

Lepta, together with all your other 
^friends, salute you. rurcwel. 

To the same. 


'[A. U. 70r,.] 
'F. parted, you know, on the second 
of November : on the sixth I ar- 
rived at Lcucis, from whence I reached 
Actium the followmg dav. I was de- 
tained there by contrary winds till the 
next morning, when I sailed for Corcy- 
ra ; where I arrived on the ninth, after 
having hati a very favourable passage. 
The weather proving extremely tempes- 
tuous, I was obliged to continue in that 
place till the sixteenth, when I again 
proeeeded on my vovage : and on the 
seventeenth, I entered the bay of Cas- 
siope, a maritime town in Corcyra, 
situated about an hundred and twenty- 
stadia from my former port. Here the 
wind sliil'ting, I wa^ detained till the 23d. 
In the mean time, those ships that had 
accompanied me thither, and were so im- 
patient as immediately to put to sea again, 
were many of tiiem lost. However, on 
the evening of the day I last mentioned, 
we weiohed aiiciior ; and having sailed 
all that night and the next day with a 
fair gale from the south, and a very clear 
sky, we gained with great ease the port 
of Hydruns in I'^uly. Tlie same wind 
carried us the following day, being the 
twenty-iifth, to Brundisium. I was met 
at this place by 1 erentia (who desires me 
to assure you of her esteem), and wa 
entered the town together. On the 
twenty-seventh, a slave of Plancius ar- 
rived here with your very acceptable 
letter, dated the thirteenth of this month ; 
which, though it did not entirely answer 
my wishes, contribiUed greatly to alle- 
viate the uneasiness I was under upon 
your account. I had the satisfaction like- 
wise of hearing at the same time from 
your physician ; who confirms me in the 
hope, that you will soon be well. 

And now, as I perfectly well know 
your prudence, your temperance, and the 
affection you bear me, can it be necessary 
that I should intreat you to employ your 




Book r. 

utmost care to rc-cstriblish your health ? I 
am pcrsuadeil indeed, you will do everv 
thing in your power to return to me as 
soon as pussible : however, I would bv no 
means have you more expeditious than 
your strength will bear. I am sorrvyou 
accepted Lyso's invitation to his concert ; 
lest your going abroad so soon should 
occasion a re!ap>e on the fourth critical 
week*. Lut since yon are wflling to 
hazard your health ratljcr than appear 
deficient in point of politcnessj I hope vou 
win guani against any ill consequence 
that may attend your complaisance. 

I have written to Curios to request lie 
would make a proper acknowledgment 
to your piiysician, and snpply you like- 
wise w itii whate\ cr money your occasions 
shall require; which I will repay accord- 
ing to his order. You will find an horse 
and a mule at Brundisium, which I have 
lett there for your service. I am pro- 
ceeding on my journey to Rome ; where 
I expect to sec great commotions upon 
the entrance of the new consuls into their 
ofl;ce -f. However, it is my resolution 
not to engage in the violent measures of 
either party. 

I have only to add my most earnest 
request, thai you would not embark 
■without taking all prudent precautions to 
secure a safe voyage. The irasters of 
ships, I know, who are governed entirrl}- 
by their hopes of gain, are always in 
haste to sail. But I iiitreatyou, my dear 
Tiro, not to be too hazardous; and re- 
member that you have a wide and dan- 
gerous sea to traverse. I should be glad 
you would, if possible, take your passage 
with iVIescinius; who is never disposed 
to run any imprudent risks in expeditions 
of this kind. But if your health should 
not permit you to embark so soon, 1< tme 
desire you would look out for some other 
companion in your voyage, whose public 
character may give him an authority 
with the commander of your sfiip. In a 
word, you tniuiot more etfectually oblige 
mo, than bv Lxertinir vuur utmost care to 

* The ancientG enteit.-.iiied a var'r ty of siipor- 
st.tioiis notioiib conccniiiigtlic mystical pov^urot 
numbers, particularly the uunibcr of seven, with 
its several multiplicatioii=. and divisions. Cicero, 
in one of his philosophii-al treati«rs, calls this 
number rerum omnium ff re nod'is ; and it is to its 
particular influence witli regard to the crisis of 
distempers, that he alludes iu the present p.'i.--sa;ie. 

f The ronsuls entered upon their office on 
tke tirst dfv of the ne^' vear. 

return to me safe and well. Again and 
again, my dear Tiro, I bid you adieu, 
I have recommended vou in the stroogest 
terms to the care both of Cmius and 
Lyso, as well as of your physician. 

To Tire. 


Jan. the l':th. [A. U. 704.] 

OTwiTiisTANDiNG that I fccl the want 
of your services in every place and 
upon all occasions, yet, be assured, your 
illness gives inc far less concern on my 
own account than on yours. However, 
since it has terminated, as Cnrius in- 
forms me, in a quartan ague ; I hope, if 
you are not wanting in jjroper care, that 
it will prove a means of more firmly 
establishing your health. Be so just 
then to the regard you owe me, as not 
to suffer any other concern to emplov 
your thoughts but what relates to your 
recovery. > 1 am sensible, at the same 
time, how much you sufler from this 
absence: but bclit ve me, all will be 
well, whenever you are so. I would by 
no means therefore have you in so muck 
haste to return to mc, as to expose your- 
self to the dangers of a winter-voyage; 
nor indeed to the dangers of a sca-sick- 
ne;;s, before you shall have sufficiently- 
recovered your strength. 

I arrived in the suburbs of Rome on 
the fourth of January: and nothing 
could be more to my honour, than the 
manner in which I wa.s met on my ap- 
proach to the city. But I am imhappilv 
fallen into the very midst of public dis- 
sension, or rather, indeed, I find myself 
surrounded with the flames of a civil 
war. It was mj' earnest desire to have 
composed these chmgerous ferments : and 
I probably might, if the passions of some 
in both parties, who were equally eager 
for war, had not rendered my endeavours 
ineft'ectual. IMy friend Cisar has writ- 
ten a very warm and menacing letter to 
the senate. He has the assurance, not- 
withstanding their express prohibition, 
to continue at the head of his army and 
in the government of his province: to 
A^iiich very extraonlinary measures he 
has licen instigated bv Curio. The lat- 
ter, in conjunc«ion with (-iuintus Cassius 
and jMark Antony, Avithout the least 


Sect. I. 



violence having bcc» ofTcred to them, 
ha"e withdrawn iheiiiselves to (';vsar. 
Thev took this step immediately after 
<he senate had given it in charge to the 
consnls*, the prietors, and the tribunes 
of the people, together with those of us 
who arc invested with proconsular [)Ower, 
to take care of the interests of the re|nd)- 
licf. And never, in truth, were our li- 
berties in more imminent danger ; as 
those who are disallected to the connnon- 
weahh never were headed by a chief 
more capable, or better prepared to sup- 
port them. We are raising forces witii 
all possible diligence, undertheauthority 
and with the assistance of Pompey ; w li<> 
now begins, somewhat too late 1 fear, to 
be apprehensiveof Caesar's power. In the 
midst, however, of these alarming com- 
motions, the senate demanded in a very 
full house, that a triumph should be im- 
mediately decreed to me. Uut the con- 
sul Lentulus, in order to appropriate to 
himself a greater share in conferring this 
honour, told them, that he would propose 
it himself in proper form, as soon as he 
should have dispatched the aifairs that 
Mere necessaryin the presentconjuncture. 
In the mean time, 1 act w ith great mo- 
deration : and this conduct renders my 
influence v\ ith both parties so much the 
stronger. The several districts of Italy 
are assigned toourrespective protections; 
and Capua is the department 1 have taken 
for mine. 

I thought it proper to give you this 
general infonaiation of public alVairs: to 
which I will onl\- add my request, that 
you would take care of your health, and 
write to me by every opportunity. Again 
and again 1 bid you farewel. 


To Terentia and to TuUia. 


Minturnac, Jan. the 25th. [A. U. 704.] 
N what manner it may be proper to 
dispose of yourselves during the pre- 
sent conjuncture, is a question which 
must now be decided by your own judg- 
ments as much as bv mine. Should Csesar 

* The consuls of this yoar were Clodius Mar- 
collus, and Cornelius Lentulus Cms. 

f By thisdeciee the magistrates therein named 
T^-ere invested with a discretionary power of act- 
ing as they should iuclgi- proper in the present 
exigency of public affairs : a decree to which 
the senate never had recourse but in cases of tl»e 
utmost danger and distress. 

advance to Rome without committinn^ 
ho.slilities, you may certainlv for the 
present at least remain there unmolested : 
but if this madman should give up the 
city to the rapine of his soldiers, I must 
doubt whether even Dolabella's credit 
and authority will be sunicieiil to protect 
you. I am under some apprehension 
likewise, lest whilst vou are deliberat- 
ing in wlii.t manner to act, you should 
find voiu'.self so surrounded with the ac- 
mv as to render it impossible to withdraw, 
though you should be ever so much in- 
clined. 'I'he next (juestion is (and it '\% 
a que.>tion which yon yourselves are best 
able to determine}, w hcther any ladies of 
your rank venture to continue inthecitv: 
if not, will it be consistent with your 
character to ap|)earsingular in that point? 
But be that as it will, you cannot, 1 1 hink, 
as afliiirs are now situated, be more coni- 
modiously placed, than either with me 
or at some of our firms in this district; 
supposing, I mean, that 1 should be able 
to maintain mv present j)ost. 1 must add 
likewise, that a short time, 'tis to be 
feared, will produce a great scarcity in 
Rome. However, 1 should be glad you 
would take the sentiments of Atticus, or 
Caniillus, or anj' other friend whom vou 
may choose to consult upon this subject. 
In the mean while, let me conjure j'ou 
both, to keep up your spirits. The 
coming over of Labienns to our party, 
has given ailairs a much better aspect. 
And Pisohaving withdrawn himself from 
the city, is likewise another Tcry favour- 
able circumstance: as it is a plain indi- 
cation, that he disapproves the impious 
measures of his son-in-law. 

I intreat you, mv dearest creatures, 
to write to me as frequently as possible, 
and let me know how it is with you, as 
well as what is going forward in Rome* 
My brother and nephew, together w ith 
RufuSj alVectionately salute you. Fare- 


To the same. 

Formia:+. the '::)th. [A. U. 70+.] 
TT well deserves consideration, whether 
■*• it will be more prudent for you to con- 

X A maritime city in Campania, not far from 
Miuturnae, the place from whc.icc the preced- 
ing letter is dated. 




J3ook I. 

tinuc in Rome, or to reoiovc to some se- 
cnie place within my department ; and 
ji is a consideration, my dearest creatures, 
Jn which your own judgments must assist 
mine. \Vhat occurs to my present 
thoughts is this: on the one hand, as you 
vi!l prnbubly find a safe protection in 
I)olabella, your residing in Rome may 
])rovc a mean of securing our house from 
being plundered, should the soldiers be 
suiTered to commit any of that 
kind. But on the other, whin I rellect 
that all the worthier part of the republic 
have withdrawn themselves and their 
families from the cit)- ; I ain inclined to 
advise you to follow their example. I 
mu.-t add likewi'^e, that there are several 
towns i:i this c;inton of Italy under my 
command, which are particularly in our 
interest: as also, that great part of our 
estate lies in the same di^tric t. If there- 
fore you should remove thither, you may 
not only very frequently be with me, 
but whenever we shall be obliged to se- 
parate, you may be safely lodged at one 
or other of ray farms, flowever, I am 
utterly unable to determine, at present, 
■which of these schemes is preferable : 
only let me intreat you to observe what 
Steps other ladies of your rank pursue in 
this conjuncture : and be cautious like- 
v.ise that you be not prevented from re- 
tiring, should it prove your choice. In 
the mean time, I hope you will maturelv^ 
deliberate upon this point between your- 
selves; and take the opinion also of our 
friends. At all events, I desire vou 
•v^■ould direct Philotiraus to procure a 
strong guard to defend our house ; to 
V hich request I must add, that vou \\ ould 
engage a proper number of regular 
couriers, in order to give me the satisfac- 
tion of hearing from you every day. But 
above all, let me conjure vou both, to 
take care of your healths as you wish to 
preserve mine. I'arewel. 

To Riifus. 

(A. I*. 70i.) 
'T'not'CH I never once doubted that I 
enjoyed the highest rank in- your 
friendship, yet every day's experienrc 
.streni^tiiensrne in that persuasion. Ycni 
assured me, I remember, in one of vour 
letters, that you should be more as.^idii- 
• :s in giving me proofs of your affcotion 

now, than when you were my quaestor, as 
they would more indisputably appear to 
be the free result of adisintercstcd esteem. 
And though nothing, 1 thought, could 
exceed your good ollices to jne in the 
provincc,yetyou have since fully tn'inced 
the sincerity of this promise. Accord- 
ingly it was with great pleasure I observed 
the friendly impatience with which vou 
expected mv arrival in Home, when 1 had ^ 
thoughts of going thither; as well as the ^ 
joy you afterwards expressed at my hav- 
ing laid aside that design, when afl'airs 
had taken adiftlrent turn from what you 
imagined. But your last letter was par- 
ticularly acceptable to me, as an instance 
both of yonratrection andyourjudgment. 
It afibrds me much satisfaction indeed, 
to find on the one hand, thai you consider 
your true interest (as every great and 
honest mind ouccht always to consider it) 
as inseparably connected with a rectitude 
of conduct; and on the other, that you 
promise to accompany me, wlHlhcrsoever 
I may determine to steer. Nothing can 
benioresgreeablc to my inclination, nor, 
I trust, to your honour, than your exe- 
cuting this resolution. IMine has been 
fixed for some time : and it was not with 
any design of concealing it from you, 
that I did not acquaint yen with it be- 
fore. My only reason was, that in pub- 
lic conjunctures of this kind, the commu- 
nications of one's intentions to a friend, 
looks like admonishing, or rather indeed 
pressing him to share in the difficulties 
and the dangers of one's schemes. I 
cannot, however, but willingly embrace 
an olfer which proceeds from so allection- 
ate and generous a disposition : though 
I must add at the same time (that I may 
not transgress the modsst limits I have 
set to my requests of this nature), that I 
by no means urge your compliance. If 
you shall think proper to pursue the mea- 
sures you propose, I shall esteem myself 
greatly indebted to you: if not, I shall 
very readily excuse you. Tor though 1 
shall look upon the former as a tribute 
which you could not well refuse to my 
friendship; yet I shall consider the latter 
likewise as the same reasonable conces- 
sion to your fears. It must be, ownctl, there 
is great difficulty how to act upon this 
occasion. 'Tis true, what honour would 
direct, is verv^ apparent; but th-^ pruden- 
tial part is far from being a point so 
clear. However, if wc would act up as' 
we ought, to the dictates of that philoso- 

Sect. I. 



phywehavemutually cultivated, we can- 
not once licsitate in tliiiikiiig, that the 
worl'iiest measures must upon the whole 
be the most experlicnt. It you are in- 
dined tiit-n to embark with nje, you must 
conu; hither immediately; bulil'ilsiiould 
not suit you to be thus expeditious, I will 
send you an exact account ot my route. 
To be short, in whatever manner you 
may decide, 1 shall always consider you 
as my friend: but much more so, it" you 
should determine as 1 wish. larewel. 

To Ttrentia, 

the greatest distance from the army. And 
if provisions should become scarce in 
Rome, I should think you will find it 
most convenient to remove with your 
servants to i\rpinum f. 

Tiie amiable young Cicero most ten- 
derly salutes you. Again and again 1 
bid you t'arewcl. 


To the same t . 


June the nth. [A. U. 704.] 
AM entirely free I'rom the disorder in 
mv stomach ; which was the more 
painful, as 1 saw it occasioned botii you 
and that (kar girl whom I love better 
than my life, so much uneasiness. I dis- 
covered the cause of this complaint the 
night after I lell you, having discharged 
a great quantity of phlegm. This gave 
me so immediate a relief, that I cannot 
but believe I owe my cure to some 
heavenly interposition: to Apollo, no 
doubt, and iEsculaplus. You will ofi'er 
up your grateful tributes therefore to 
these restoring powers, with all the ar* 
dency of your usual devotion. 

lam this moment embarked ■^- ; and 
have procured a ship which 1 hope is 
well able to perform her voyage. As 
soon as I shall have finished this letter, I 
propose to write to several of my friends, 
recommending you and our dearest TuUia 
in the strongest terms to their protection. 
In the mean time, I should exhort you to 
keep up your spirits, if I did not know 
that you are both animated with a more 
than manly fortitude. And indeed I 
hope there is a fair prospect of your re- 
maining in Italy without any inconve- 
nience, and of my returning to the de- 
fenceof the republic, in conjunction with 
those who are no less faithfully devoted 
to its interest. 

After earnestly recommending to you 
the care of your health, let me make it 
my next retjuest, that you would dispose 
of yourself in such of my villas as are at 

* In order to join Pouipey in Greece ; who 
had left Italy about three moaths before the date 
of this letter. 


f A. U. 704.] 
AM informed by the letters of my 
friends as well as bv other accounts, 
that you have had a sudden attack of a 
fever. I intreat you therefore to em- 
ploy tj.e utmost care in re-establishing 
your health. 

The early notice you gave me of 
Ceesar's letter, was extremely agreeable 
tome: and let me desire you would send 
me the same expeditious intelligence, if 
any thing shoidd hereafter occur that 
concerns me to know. Once more I 
conjure you to take care of your health. 



To the same^. 

f A. U. 704.1 
INTREAT you to take all proper mea- 
sures for the recovery of your liealth- 
Let me request likewise, that you would 
provide whatever may be necessary in 
the present conjuncture: and that you 
would send me fretjuent accounts how 
every thing goes on. Farewel. 


To the same. 

July the l:>tii. (A. U. 704.) 
T HAVE an opportunity of writ- 
■■• ing ; and scarce any thing to say that 
I choose to trust in a letter. I find by 
your last, that you cannot n>eet with a 

•f- A city in the conutry of the Volsci : a dis- 
trict of Italy wliicli now comprehends part of the 
Catnpagua di Roma, and of the Tenadi Lavoro. 
Ciceio born in this town, which still subsists 
undtT the name of Arpino. 

t This letter was written by Cicero in tlie. 
camp at Dyrrachium. 

§ This letter was probnbly written soon after 
iht; foregoisg, and from the same place. ~ 




Book I, 

purchaser for anv of our farm:?. I he^ 
therefore you would consider of some 
other methiul of raising inonev, in or- 
der to satisfy tliat person, Avho you are 
sensible I am very desirous should be 
paid *. 

I am bv no means surprised that vou 
should have nceivcil the tlianks of our 
friend ; as I dare say she had great reason 
to acknowledge vour Uindness. 

If Pollux t is not yet set out, I desire 
you would exercise your authority, and 
Ibrce the loiterer to depart immediately. 


To Tcrenlia. 


■Rninilisium, >"ov. the 5th. [A. I". 704.] 
AY the joy you express at my safe 
arrival in Italy I be never inter- 
rupted ! But my n)ind was se much dis- 
composed bv those atrocious injuries I 
had received, that I have taken a step, I 
fear, which may be attended with great 
difficulties. Let me then intreat your 
utmost assistance: ti^oiigh I nmst confess, 
at the same time, that 1 know not where- 
in it can avail me. 

I would by no means have you think 
of coming hither, por the journey is 
both long and dangerous: and I do not 
see in what manner you could be of any 
service. Farewel. 


To the same. 

\.\. V. 704.] 
rpHE 111 state of health into which Tul- 
-■■ lia is fallen, is a very severe addition 
to the many and great disquietudes that 
afflict my mind. But I need say nothing 
farther upon this subject: as 1 am sure 

• This letter, ns well as the two former, was 
writtpn wliileCice ro waswith Pum])cy in Greece. 
The business at whicli he so obscurely hints has 
l>ccn thought to relate to the payment of part 
ofTullia's portion to Iiolahclla. 

f It appears by a letter to Atticus, that thi.s 
person acted as a sort of steward inC^icoro's family. 

;j; After the battle of Pliarsalia, Cicero would 
not engage himself any farther with the Poinpe- 
ian party; but having endeavoured to make his 
peace with Cfcsar by the mediation of Dolabel- 
la, he seems to have received no other answer, 
than en order to return immediately inio Italy. 
And this he accordingly did a few days before 
lh« date of the pi;^sent letter. 

her welfare is no less a part of j'our ten- 
der concern than it is of mine. 

I agree both with vou and her in think- 
ing it proper that Isliould advance nearer 
to Rome: and I should have done so be- 
fore now, if 1 had not been prevented by 
several diOiculties, aa hich I am not yet 
able to remove. J?ut I an) in expectation 
of a letter from Atticus, with his senti- 
ments upon this subject: and 1 beg you 
would i'orward it to me by the earliest 
opportunity. Farewel. 


To the same. 

[A. U. 704.] 
Tm addition to my other misfortunes, I 
have now to lament the illness both of 
Dolabella and Tullia. The whole frame 
of my mind is indeed so utterly discom- 
po.sed, that I know not what to resolve, 
or how to act, in any of my aftairs. I 
can only conjure you tb take care of 
yourself and uf Tullia. Farewel. 


To the same. 

(A. U. 704.) 
TF any thing occurred worth communi- 
^ eating to you, my letters would be 
more fre(]uent and much longer. But I 
need not tell you the situation of my af- 
fairs ; and as to the effect they have upon 
my mind, 1 leave it to Lepta and Treba- 
tius to inform you. I have only to add 
my intreaties, that you would take care 
of your own and Tullia's health. Fare- 


To Titius. 

(A. TJ. 704.) 
rpHERE is none of your friends ca- 
-*• pable than I am, to offer consolation 
to you under your pre.sent affliction ; as 
the share I take in your loss renders me 
greatly in need of the same .:ood office 
myself. However, as my grief does not 
rise to the same extreme degree as yours, 
I should not think I discharged the duty 
whichmy connection and friendshipwitfi 
you require, if I remained -altogether 
silent at a time whca you arc thus over-« 


Sect. I. 



whelmed with sorrow. I determined 
tlicrcfore to suggest a few reflections to 
you which may alleviate at least, if not 
entirely remove, the anguish of your 

There is no maxim of consolation more 
common, yet at the same time there is 
none which deserves to be more frc- 
(|uently in our thoughts, than that we 
ought to remember, " We are men; " 
that is, creatures who are born to be 
exposed to calamities of every kind : 
and therefore, "that it becomes us to 
"submit to the conditions by which we 
"hold onr existence, without being too 
"much dejected by accidents which no 
" prudence can prevent.'' In a word, 
that we should learn by "reflecting on 
*'the misfortunes which have attended 
"others, that there is nothing singular 
" in those which befal ourselves." But 
neither these, nor other arguments to the 
same purpose which are inculcated in 
the writings of the philosophers, seem to 
have so strong o claim to success, as those 
which may be drawn from the present 
unhappy situation of public aifairs, and 
that endless series of misfortunes which 
is rising upon our country. They are such 
indeed, that one cannot but account those 
to be most fortunate, who never knew 
what it was to be a parent : and as to 
those persons who are deprived of their 
children, in these times of general anar- 
chy and mis-rule, they have much less 
reason to regret their loss, than if it had 
f'.appened in a more (loarishing period 
of the commonwealth, or while yet the 
republic had anv existence. If your 
tears flow, indeed, from this accident 
merely as it aflects your own personal 
happiness, it may be difficult perhaps 
entirely to restrain them. But if your 
sorrow takes its rise from a more en- 
larged and benevolent principle ; if it 
be for the sake of the dead themselves 
that you lament, it may be an easier task 
to assuage your grief. I shall not here 
insist upon an argument, which I have 
frequently heard maintained in specula- 
tive conversations, as well as often read 
likewise in treatises that have been writ- 
ten upon the subject. " Death, " say 
those philosophers, "cannot be consi- 
"dered as an evil : because if any con- 
** sciousness remains after our dissolution, 
** it isratheraa entrance into immortality. 

" than an c\tinction of life : and if none 
"remains, iher-' cm be v.o misery where 
" there is no sensibility." .\ot to insist, 
I say, upon anv reasonings of this nature; 
let me remind you of an argument which 
I ran urge with much more confidtnce. 
lie who has made his exit from a scene 
where such dnadful confusion prevails, 
and where sr) many approaching calami- 
ties are in prospect, cannot |)03sibly, it 
should seem, be a loser by the exchange. 
Let me ask, not only wlierc honour, vir- 
tue, and probity, where true philosophy 
and the useful arts, can now fly for re- 
fuge ; but where even our liberties and 
and our lives can be secure? For my own 
part 1 have never onre heard of the 
death of any youth during all this last sad 
vear, whom I have not considered as 
kindly delivered by the immortal gods 
from the miseries of these wretched times. 
If therefore you can be persuaded to 
think that their condili9n is by no means 
unhappy, whose loss you so tenderly de- 
plore ; it must undoubtedly prove a very 
consi(lerable abatement of your present 
ailliciion. For it will then entirely arise 
from what you feel upon your own ac- 
count; and have no relation to the per- 
sons whose death you regret. Now it 
would ill agree with those wise and ge- 
nerous maxims which have ever inspired 
your breast, to be too sen<ible of misfor- 
tunes which terminate in your own per- 
son, and attect not the happiness of thosa 
von love. You have upon all occasions 
both public and private, shewn your- 
self animated with the firmest fortitude: 
and it becomes yon to act up to the 
character you have thus justly acquired. 
Time necessarily wears out the deepest 
impressions ot' sorrow: and the weakest 
mother that ever lost a child, has found 
some period to her grief But we should 
wisely anticipate that eilect which a cer- 
tain revolution of days will undoubtedly 
produce : and not wait for a remedy froni 
time, which we may much sooner re- 
ceive from reason. 

If what I have said can any thing avail 
in lesseuincr the weight of your alfliction, 
I shall have obtained my wish : if not, I 
shall at least have discharged the duties 
of that friendship and aflection which, 
believe me, I ever have preserved, and 
ever shall preserve towards you. FaroweK 



feook I, 



To Tfrentia. 

Drromber tho 51st. [A. U. 703.] 
pv afTairs aro at present in such a situ- 
ation, that I h'ive no reason to ex- 
])ect a letter on your p:irt, and have no- 
thinir to communicate to vou on mine. 
Yet I know not iiow it is, I can no more 
forbear flattering myself that I mav hear 
from you, than I can refrain from writing 
to you Avhenevcr I meet with a convey- 

Volumnia ought to have shown her- 
self more zealous for your interest: and 
in the particular instance you mention, 
she might have acted with greater care 
and caution. This however is l)ut a 
slight grievance amongst others w hich I 
far more severely feel and lament. Tliey 
have the effect upon me, indeed, which 
those persons undoubtedly Avished, who 
compelled me into measures utterly op- 
posite to my own sentiments. Tarewel. 


To the safiie. 

fA. V. 706.] 

TULLi.\ arrived here* on the 12th of 
this month f . It extremely affected 
me to see a Avoman of her .singular and 
amiable virtues reduced (and reduced too 
by my own negligence) to a situation far 
other than is agreeable to her rank and 
filial piety I. 

I have some tlioughts of sending my 
son, accompanied by Sallustius, with a 
letter toC2sar§; and if I should execute 
this design, I will let you know when he 
sets out. In the mccn time be careful of 
your health, I conjure you. Farewel. 

* Briindibium ; v/hcrc Cicero was still wailing 
for Cxsar's arrival from Eirypt. 

-}• June. 

J Dolabella was grea!ly embarrassed i.n his 
affairs ; and it (-eims by this passage as if he 
had not allowed 'I'uUia a mainten;uK:e during his 
absence abroad, sufficient to support her rank 
and dig-nity. 

§ In order to supplicate Caesar's pardon, for 
having engaged against hioi on the side of Pom- 


To the same. 
June the 20th. f.A. U. TOG.] 

IHAD determined, agreeably to what I 
mentioned in my former, to send my 
son to meetCa'sar on his return to Italy. 
But I have since altered my resolution ; 
as I hear no news of his arrival. For the 
rest I refer you to Sicca, who will in- 
form yon what measures I think neces- 
sarv to be taken: though I must add, that 
nothing new has occurred since I wrote 
last. Tullia is still with me. — Adieu, and 
take all possible care of your health. 


To the same. 

July the 9th. [A. U. 706.] 
T WROTH to Atticus (somcwhat later in- 
-»■ deed than I ought) concerning the af- 
fair you mention. When you talk with 
him upon that head, he will inform you 
of my inclinations: and I need not be 
more explicit here, after having written 
so fully to him. Let me know as ."soon as 
possible what steps are taken in that bu- 
siness; and ac(]uaint meat the same time 
with every thing else which concerns 
me. I have only to add my request, 
that you would be careful of your health. 


To the same. 

July the lOth. [A. V. 706.] 
TN answer to what you object concern- 
■^ ing the divorce I mentioned in my 
last II, I can only say that I am perfectly 
ignorant what power Dolabella may at 
this time possess, or what ferments there 
may be among the populace. However, 
if you think there is anji- thing to be a|> 
prehended from his resentment, let the 
matter rest; and perhaps the first pro- 
posal may come from himself Never- 
theless, I leave you to act as you shall 
judge proper ; not doubting that you 
will take such measures in this most un- 
fortunate aflair, as shall appear to be at- 
tended with the fewest unhappy conse- 
quences. Farewel. 

Il Between Tullia and Dolabella. 

^'ect. I. 

C I C !•: R O. 


L i: T T I' R LII. 

To tit:: same. 

Aiicnst tlu- 1 1 til. (A. U. 70rt.) 
HWF. not yd heard any news either of 
Ccfsar's arrival, or of his letter, which 
Philotimus I was infunnej, had iiichar,'re 
to deliver to me. lint be asi^ured, yod 
shall iiiimediatelv receive the tirst certain 
intelligence I shall l)e ahle to send you. 
Take care of your hedth. Adieu. 


To the same. 

August t!ic I'-'th. (.\. IT. TOd) 
T HAVE at last received a letter from 
-■■ Ca3sar; and written in no unfavourable 
terms. It is now said, that he will be in 
Italy much sooner than was expected I 
have not yet resolved whether to wait for 
him here, or to meet him on his way: 
but as soon as I shall have determined 
that point I will let you know. 

I beg you would immediate] v send 
back this messenger: and let me conjure 
you at the same time to take all possible 
rare of your health. Farewel. 


To the same. 

September the 'st. (A. U. 706.) 
T AM in daily expectation of my couriers, 
-■■ whose return will, perhaps, render me 
less doubtful what course to pursue *. 
As soon as thev siiall arrive, I will give 
you immediate notice. IMeanwhiie, be 
careful of your health. Farewel. 


To the same. 

Venusia f , October the 1st. [A. U. 706.] 
T Pur.poSE to be at my Tusculan villa 
■»■ about the 7th or Sth of this month. I 
beg that every thing- may be ready for 
my reception: as I sliall perhaps bring 
several friends with me; and I may pro- 
bably too continue there some time. If 
a vase is wanting in the bath, let it be 
supplied with one; and I desire you would 

* Whether to wait at Bninflisium the arrival 
•f CiCiar, or to set out iu oixler to mett him. 

f Now called Venosa : a town in the kingdom 
of Naples, situated at ths foot u[ the Apijiuiue 
m juwtaitis. 

likewise provide wli.-.tevcr else may bo 
necessary for the health and entertain- 
inent of my guests, iarewel. 


Tn Trcbonius t ' 

(A. r. 7nf-.) 
T RFAD you letter, but particularly the 
■*- treatise that attended it § , with great 
pleasure. It was a pleasure, nevertheless, 
not without its alloy: as I could not but 
regret that j'ou should leave us at a tim.e 
when you had thus inflamed my heart, I 
do not say with a stronger affection (for 
that, in truth, could admit of no increase), 
but with a more ardent desire of enjoying 
your company. I\Iy single consolatiou 
arises from the hope, that we shall endea- 
vour to alleviate the pain of this absence 
by a mutual exchange of long and fre- 
ciuent letters. Whilst I promise this on 
my part, I assure myself of the .same on 
yours : as indeed you liave left me no 
room to doubt how highly I stand in your 
regard. Need I mention tho=;e public 
instances I formerly received of your 
friendship, when you shewed the world 
that you cqnsidered my enemies as your 
own ; when you ptoo:l forth my generous 
advocate in the assemblies of the people; 
when you acted with that spirit whicli tho 
consuls ought to have shewn, in maintain- 
ing the cause of liberty by supporting 
mine; and though only a quaestor, yet 
refused to submit to the superior authoritv 
of a tribune, whilst your colleague at the 
same time meanly yielded to his mea- 
sures.? Need I mention (what I shall al- 
ways however most gratefully remember) 
the more recent instances of your regard 
to me, in the solicitude you expressed for 
my safety when I engaged in the late 
war; in the joy you shewed when I re- 
turned into Italy |i; in j^our friendly par- 
ticipation of all those cares and disquie- 
tudes with which I was at that time op- 
pressed ; and in a word, in your kind in- 
tent of visiting me at Brundisium^y, if you 
had not been suddenly ordered into Spaiu.'' 

J He was tribune iu the' year of Rome 69S ; 
at ^vhich time he distiuguishod himselt' by being 
the principal promoter oi those uuconstituiioual 
grants that were made by the people to Fompey, 
Cccsar, and Crassus, lor the eaiargemento;' their 
power and dignities. 

§ A collection ot Cicero's Bons Mots. 

II After the battle of Pharsalia. 

% When be was waitine the arrival of Cssar. 

D ' To 


Book I. 

'Jo omit, I <;r>y, these various and iiic-ti- 
n a'jie proofs ot" your tVieiulsiiip; is not 
the treatise you have now sent nie a most 
< onspicuous evidi'iici' ot the share lenjoy 
Jn your heart? It is so indeed in a dou- 
ble view; and not only :is vou are so par- 
tial as to be the constant, and perhaps 
sintjle admirer of my \\ It, but as you have 
placed it likewise in so advantageous a 
light, as to render it, whatever it mav be 
in itself, extremely agreeable. The truth 
of it is, your manner of relating mv 
pleasantries, is no less huninrons tiiau the 
conceits you celebrate; and half the rea- 
der's mirth is exhausted ere he arrives at 
my joke. In short, if I had no other 
obligation to you for making this collec- 
tion, than your having sutVered me to be 
so long present to your thoughts, I should 
be utterly insensible if it were not to im- 
press upon me the most aifectioiiatc senti- 
ments. When I consider, indeed, that 
nothing but the warmest attachment could 
have engaged you in such a work, I can- 
not suppose any man to have a greater re- 
gard for himself, than you have thus dis- 
covered for me. I wish it may be in my 
power to make you as ample a return in 
every other instance, as I most certainly 
do in the aftection of my heart; a return 
\vith which I trust, however, you will 
be perfectly well satisfied. 

But to return from your performances 
to your very agreeable letter : full as it 
■was, I may yet answer it in few words. 
Let me assure you then, in the first place, 
than I no more imagined the letter which 
I sent to C'alvus* would be made public, 
that I suspect that this will : and you are 
sensible that a letter designed to go no 
farther than the hiud to which it is ad- 
dressed, is written in a very difierent 
manner from one intended for general 
inspection. But you think, it seems, that 
I have spoken in higher terms of his 
abilities than truth will justify. It was 
my real opinion, however, that he pos- 
sessed a great genius: and notwithstand- 
ing that he misapplied it bv a wrong 
choice of that particular species of elo- 
quence which he arlopted, yet he certain- 
ly discovered great judgment in his exe- 
cution. In aword, his compositions were 
marked with a vein of uncommon eru- 

* A very ce!f-I)ratrd orator ; who though not 
much at>ovo thirty wlieii he died (which wai a 
short tirne hcf.jre this h;tter was written), y<;t 
lelt behind him n large «;oiiecti'>n »{ urutionT^. 

dition ; but they wanted a certain strength 
and spirit of colouring to render thcni 
perfectly finished. It was the attainment 
therelore of this c|ualit\ , that I endea- 
voured to recommend to his pursuit : and 
the seasoning of advice with applause, 
has a wonderful eflicacy in firing the ge- 
nius and animating the efhirts of those 
one wishes to persuade. This was the 
true motive of the praises I bestowed 
upon Calvus; of A\hose talents I really 
had a very high opinion. 

I have onlv farther to assure you, that 
my allectinnatc wishes attend vou in your 
journey; that I shall impatiently expect 
your return; that I shall faithfully pre- 
serve vou in my remembrance; and that 
I shall soothe the uneasiness of your ab- 
sence by keeping up this epistolary com- 
merce. Let me intreat you to reflect on 
your part, on the many great and good 
ollices I have received at your hands: and 
which though j/oii may forget, I never 
can, without being guilty of a most un- 
pardonable ingratitude. It is impossible 
indeed you should reflect on the obliga- 
tions you have conferred upon me, with- 
out believing, not only that I have some 
merit, but that I think of you with the 
highest esteem and ailcction. I'arewel. 


To Lucius Paph-ius P(t(vs. 

(A. V. 706.) 
js it true, my friend, that you look up- 
-*- on yourself as liaving been guilty of a 
most ridiculous piece of folly, in attempt- 
ing to imitate the thunder, as you call it, 
of my eloquence? With reason indeed 
you might have thought so, had you failed 
in your attempt: but since you have ex- 
celled the model you had in view, the 
disgrace surely isonmy side, not on yours. 
The verse therefore which you apply to 
yourself from one of Trabea's comedies, 
may with nmch more justice be turned 
upon me: as my own eloquence falls feir 
short of that perfection at which I aim. 
But te!l me, what sort of figure do my 
letters make; are they not written, think 
you, in the true familiar? They do not 
constantly, however, preserve one uni- 
form manner; as this .species of compo- 
sition bears no re.semblance to that of the 
oratorical kind : though indeed in judicial 
matters, we vary our style according t<» 
the nature of the cairsBS in which we arc 


Sect. L 



engaged. Those, for example, in uhicli 
private interests ul" little moment are con- 
cerned, wetreatw itii a suitable sinipliciiy 
of diction; bnt where the reputation or 
the life of our client is in rpiestion, wc 
rise into ;,Teater pomp ami dignity of 
phrase. Jiut whatever may be the sub- 
ject of my letters, they still speak the lan- 
guajfc of conversation. Farewel. 


To Lucius Mcscinius. 

(A. U. 707.) 
iirouR letter aflordcd me peat pleasure, 
^ as it gave me an assurance (tho' in- 
deed I wanted none) that you earnestly 
wish for my company. Iklieve me, I am 
equally desirous of yours: and in truth, 
■v\hen there was a much greater abun- 
dance of patriot citizens and agreeable 
companions who were in the number of 
my friends, there was no man with whom 
I rather chose to associate, and few whose 
company 1 liked so well. J3ut now that 
death, absence, or change of disposition, 
has so greatly contracted this social cir- 
cle, I should prefer a single day with vou, 
toa whole life with the generality of those 
w ith whom I am at present obliged to 
live*. Solitude itself indeed (if solitude, 
alas! I were at liberty to enjoy) would be 
far more eligible than the conversation 
of those who frequent my house; one or 
two of them at most excepted. I seek 
my relief therefore (where I would advise 
you to look for yours) in amusements of 
a literary kind, and in the consciousness 
of having always intended well to mv 
country. I have the satisfaction to reflect 
{as I dare say you will readily believe), 
that I never sacrificed the public good to 
my own private views; that if a certain 
person (whom for my sake, I am sure, 
you never loved) had not looked upon 
me with a jealous eyef, both himself and 
every friend to liberty had been happy: 
that I always endeavoured that it should 
not be in the power of any man to disturb 
the public tranquillity ; and in a word, 
that when I perceived those arms wiiich I 

* The cliirfs of the Ca'-sarean party ; with 
whom Cicero now found it convcnieiit to culti- 
vate a friendship, in order to iuijratiatc himself 
witli Cajsar. 

+ Pompey , who l)ein2r jcaloiis of thf" popularity 
which Cicero had acquucd during liis consulship, 
Struck ill wkh the designs of C;esar, and otiicrs 
who h<id forineJ a parly against oui- author. 

had ever dreaded, would prove an over- 
match for that patriot-coalition I had mv- 
self formtjd in the republic, I thought it 
better to accept of a safe peace upon any 
terms, than impotcntly to contend with 
a su|)erior force. I'nt I hope shortly to 
talk over these and many more points 
with you in person. Nothing indeed de- 
tains me in Rome, but to wait the event 
of the war in Africa; which, I imagine, 
must now be soon decided. And though 
it seems of little importance on which 
side the victory shall turn, yet I think it 
may be of some advantage to be near my 
friends when the news shall arrive, in or- 
der to consult with them on the measures 
it may be advisable for me to pursue. 
Aflairs are now reduced to such an un- 
happy situation, that though there is a 
considerable diflerence, 'tis true, between 
the cause of the contending parties, [be- 
lieve there will be very little as to the 
consequence of their success. However, 
though my spirits were too much deject- 
ed, perhaps, whilst our afliiirs remained 
insus[)ense; I find myself much more 
composed now that they are utterly de- 
sperate. Your last letter has contributed 
to confirm me in this disposition ; as it 
is an instance of the magnanimity with 
whicli you supportyour unjust disgrace J. 
It is with particular satisfaction I observe 
that you owe this heroic cahnness not 
onlv to philosophy, but to temper. For 
1 will confess, that I imagined your mind 
Avas softened with that too delicate sen- 
sibility which we who passed our lives in 
the ease and freedom of Rome, were apt 
in general to contract. But as we bore 
our prosperous daj's with moderation, it 
becomes 'us to bear our adverse fortune, 
or more properly indeed our irretrievable 
ruin, with fortitude. This advantage we 
may at least derive from our extreme ca- 
lamities; that they will teach us to look 
upon death with contempt : which evea 
if we were happy we ought to despise, ai 
a state of total insensibility; but which, 
under our present afflictions, should be 
the object of our constant wishes. Let not 
any fears then, I conjure you by your at- 
fection for me, disturb the peace of your 
retirement: and be well persuaded, no- 
thing can befal a man that deserves to 
raise his dread and horror, but (what I 

i ^ilcsciniu-^, it is probable, was banished by 
Cicsar, as a partisan oi P^mpay, to a curtaiji 
distance frusu IvOine. 

D2 am 


r.ook I. 

am sure ever \Tas, ami ever will be far 
f oni you) tlic reproaches of a guilty 

I purpose to pav vou a visit very soon, 
if nothin<; should happen to make it ne- 
cessary lor me to cha;ii;e my resolution : 
nnd if there should, I will immediately let 
vou know. But I hope vou will not, 
whilst vou are in so weak a condition, be 
tempted, bv your impatience of sceinfj 
me, to remove from your present situa- 
tion : at least not without previously con- 
sulting me. In the mean time, continue 
to love me; and take care both of j'our 
health and your repose. Farewel. 


To Varro. 

[A. V. 707.] 

TiTouGii I have nothing to write, yet 
1 could not suHer Caninius to pay 
you a visit, without taking tlie opportu- 
nity of conveying a IcUcr by his hands. 
And now I know not what else to say, but 
that I propose to be with you very soon : 
an information, however, which I am per- 
suaded you will be glad to receive. But 
will it be altogether decent to appear in 
so gay a scene* at a time when Rome 
is in such a general flame ? And shall we 
not furnish an occasion ofcensure to those, 
who do not know that we observe the 
same sober philosophical life, in all sea- 
sons, and in every place? Yet after all, 
what imports it, since the world will talk 
of us, in spiteof our utmost caution? And 
indeed, whilst our censurers are immersed 
in every kind of flagitious debauchery, 
it is much worth our concern, truly, 
whatthey say of our innocent relaxations. 
In just contempt therefore of these illite- 
rate barbarians, it is my resolution to join 
you very speedily. 1 know not how it is 
indeed, but it should seem that our fa- 
vourite studies are attended with much 
greater advantages in these wretched 
times, than formerly; whether it be that 
they are now our only resource; or that 
ve were less sensible of their salutary ef- 
fects, wlien we were in too happy a state 
to have occasion to experience them. 

* VaiTosremstoli.ivc rofiiipsteil Cresar to .give 
him a mectin;; at P.aia?, a place iimoh frequented 
l>y the Romans on account of its hot batlis : as 
tne Hirreeablencss of its situation on the bay of 
T^aplcs, rendered it at the same time the jencral 
iMJurt uf the pleasurable wurld. 

But this is sending owls to Athens f, ai 
we say ; and suggesting rellections which 
your own mind will far better sup[jly. 
All that I mean bv them, however, is to 
draw a letter from you in return, at the 
same time that I give you notice to ex- 
pect me soon. Earevvel. 


To the name. 

TA. V. 707.] 

OvK friend Caninius paid me a visit 
some time ago very late in the even- 
ing, and informed me that he purposed 
to set out for your house the next morn- 
ing. I told him I would give him two 
or three lines to deliver to yon, and de- 
sired he would call for them in the morn- 
ing. Accordingly I wrote to you that 
nightj : but as he did not return, I ima- 
gined he had forgotten his promise; and 
should therefore have sent that letter by 
one of my own domestics, if Caninius 
had not assured me of your intention to 
leaveTnsculum the next morning. How- 
ever, after a fewdayshad intervened, and 
I had given over all expectations of Ca- 
ninius, he made me a second visit, and 
acquainted me that he was instantly set- 
ting out to you. But notwith.standing" 
the letter I had written was then become 
altogether out of date, especially after 
the arrival of such important news§ ; yet 
as I was unwilling that any of my pro- 
found lucubrations should be lost, I de- 
livered it into the hands of that very 
learned and affectionate friend of yours ; 
who I suppose has acquainted you with 
the conversation which passed between 
us at the same time. 

I think it most prudent for both of u.s 
to avoid the view at least, if we cannot so 
easily escape the remarks, of the world. 
For those who are elevated with this 
victory look down upon us with an air 
of triumph : and who regret it, ar*' 
displeased that we did not sacrifice our 
lives in the cause. But you will ask, per- 
haps (as it is in Rome that -we are parti- 
cularly exposed to mortifications), 
why I have not followed your example 

f .\ proverbial expression of the same import 
■with that of "sending coals to Newcastle." It 
allu.le.s to the Athiniaii coin, which was stamped 
(as Manutius obsen'es) with the figure of an owl. 

+ Probably the preceding letter. 

§ Cxncerninu: Cajsar's defeat of Scipio in 


Sect. I. 

C I C E 11 (). 

in retirincj from tlic city ? Eut tell nio, 
my rneiid, suijcrior ;i.s your jiidgiiicnt 
tonfcssi.'dly is, did you iiov< rliiid yourself 
mistaken? Or nlio is tlicn*, in times of 
such total d;irUncss and tonfusiouj that 
can alMuys l)o sure of directin;^ his stops 
arii^ht? I have lonjr thought, indeed, 
that it would be happy fi)r me to retire 
where I might neither sec nor liear what 
passes in Rome. But my groundless su- 
spicions discouraged mc from executing 
this scheme: as I was apprehensive that 
those who miglil accidentallj' meet me 
on my way, would y)Ut such constructions 
upon n)y retreat as best sjiited with their 
own purposes. Some, I imagined, would 
suspect, or at least pretend to suspect, 
that I was either driven from Home by 
my fears, or withdrew in order to form 
some revolution abroad : and perliaps 
too, would report, that I had actually 
provided a ship for that purpose. Others, 
I feared, who knew me best, and might 
be disposed to think most favourably of 
my actions, would be apt to impute my 
lecessto an abhorrence ofacertain party*. 
It is these apprehenions that have hither- 
to, contrary to my inclinations indeed, 
detained me in Rome; but custom, how- 
ever, has familiarised the unpleasing 
scene, and graduall}'- hardened me into 
a less exquibilc sensibility. 

Thus 1 have laid before you the mo- 
tives which induced nie to continue here. 
As to what relates to your ow n conduct, 
I would advise you to remain in your 
jnesent retirement^ till the warmth of 
our public exultation shall be somewhat 
abateil, and it shall certainly be known in 
what manner aflairs abroad are termi- 
nated ; for terminated, I am well per- 
suaded, they are ■[. IMuch will depend 
on the general result of this battle, and 
the temper in which Cassar may return. 
And though I see already what is abun- 
dantly suiUcient to determine my senti- 
ments as to that point, yet I think it 
most advisable to wait the event. In the 
mean time I should be glad you would 
postpone your journey to Baici?, till the 
iirst transports of this clamorous joy have 
subsided ; as it will have a beUer appear- 
ance to meet you at those wa»ers, when 
i may seeiu to go thither rather to join 

* Tlie Cxsarcnns. 

f When this letter was vritten there seems to 
have bcei) only some gemiial accounts anivetl of 
Cs'Sar's success in Africa ; but the iiariiculart! of 
•the battle wore not vet knowti. 

with you in lamenting the i)ublic misfor- 
tunes, than to participate in the pleasure* 
of the place. But this I submit to your 
moie etdighteni'il judgment: only let us 
agree to ])ass our lives together in those 
studies, which were once indeed nothing 
more than our amusement, but must now, 
alas! prove our principal support. Let 
us be ready at the same time, w hicnever 
we sliall be called upon, to contribute 
not only our counsels, but our labours, 
in repairing the ruins of the republic. 
But if none shall require our services for 
this purpose, let us employ our time and 
our thoughts upon moral and political 
inquiries. If we cannot benefit thv com- 
monwealth in the forum and the senate, 
let us endeavour at least to do so bv our 
studies and our writings; and, after the 
example of the most learned among the 
ancients, contribute to the welfare of our 
country by useful disquisitions concern- 
ing laws and government. 

And now, having thus acquainted you 
w^ith my sentiments and purposes, I shall 
be extremely obliged to you lor letting 
me know ^ours in return. Farewel. 


To the same. 

[A. U.7.)7.1 
/^UR friend Caninius acquainted mc 
^^ with your request, that 1 would write 
to you whenever there was any news 
which I thought it concerned you to 
know. You are already informed, that 
we are in daily expectation of Ca;sar t ; 
but I am now to tell you, that as it was 
his intention, it seems, to have landed at 
Alsium §, his friends have wHtten to dis- 
suade him from that design. They think 
that his coming on shore at that place 
will prove extremely troublesome to him- 
self, as well as very much incommode 
many others; and have therefore recom- 
mended Ostiaj; asamore convenient port. 
For my own part, I can see no dilference. 

+ CiEsar returnrd victorious f. i>m Africa, about 
the 'itSthof.Inly in the present year: so that tliis 
letter was probably written either in the bciin- 
niiig of that month, oi- the latter end of .Inne. 

§ The situation of this placo is not exactly 
known : some geogiaphe- s suppose it to be the 
same town which is now called ^i-jeru, a sea-port 
about twcn'y-iive miles distant IVom Ft me, oa 
the western coast of Italy. 

II It still retains its ancient name; aid s si-* 
tuated at the uiouth of the Tiber. 
D3 Iliitius, 



Book L 

Hirtius*, however, assures me, that him- 
self as well as Ijalbus and Oppius (who, 
let me observe bv the wav, are every one 
of them greatly in your interest), have 
written to Cxsar for this purpose. I 
thought proper therefore to send you this 
piece ot intelligence for two reasons. In 
the fir^t place, that you might know whore 
to engage a lodging; or rather, that you 
might secure one in both these towns; for 
it is extremely uncertain at which of them 
Caesar will disembark. And in the next 
place, in order to indulge a little piece of 
vanit}-, by shewing you that lam so well 
■uith these favourites of Cu?sar, as to be 
admitted into their privy council. To 
.speak seriously, I see no reason to decline 
their friendship; for surely there is a wide 
difJercnce between submitting toevils v,e 
cannot remedy, and approving measures 
that we ought to condemn: tiiough, to 
confess the truth, I do not know there 
are any that I can justly blame, except 
those which involved us inthe civil wars; 
for these, it must be owned, were altoge- 
ther voluntary. I saw indeed (wiiat your 
distance from Rome prevented you from 
observingf) that our party were eager 
for war; while Coesar, on the contrary, 
appeared less inclined tlian afraid to have 
recourse to arms. Thus far, therefore, 
our calamities might have been prevent- 
ed; but all beyond was unavoidable; for 
one side or the otiier mu»t necessarily 
prove superior. Now, we both of us, I 
am sure, always lamented those infinite 
miscliiefs that vrould ensue, whiclicver 
general of the two contending armies 
should happen to fall in battle; as we were 
well con vinced that of all the complicated 
evils which attend a civil'war, victory is 
the supreme. I dreaded it indeed even 
on that side which both you and [thought 
proper to join ; as they threatened most 
cruel vengeance on those who stood neu- 
ter, and were no less offended at your 
sentiments than at my speeches. But 
had they gained this last battle, we should 
still more severely have experienced the 
effects of their power; as our late conduct 
had incensed them to the highest decree. 
Yet what measures have we taken for our 
own security, that we did not warmly 

* He liv£;l in ^rcat intimacy with Caesar, and 
had served under him in quality of one of his 
lietitenants in Gaul. 

f Varro, at the breaking out of the Pivil war, 
was in Spain ; where he resided in quality of one 

recomnieiul fortluirs? And how Jiave 
they more advantaged the republic b\ 
having recourse to .Tuba and his eU- 
))h:intsl, than if they ha<l perished bv 
their ov» ij swords, or submitted to live 
under the present system of affairs, with 
some hopesat least, if not w ith the fairest } 
Ikit they may tell us perhaps (and in- 
died with truth), that the government 
under \\hich we have chosiii to live, is 
altogether turbulent and unsettled. Let 
this objection, however, have weight 
w iihthosi'who havetre;isured upno stores 
in their minds to support themselves un- 
der all the possible vicissitudes of human 
atiairs : a reflection which brings in«* 
round to what I had principally in view, 
when 1 undesignedly wandered into th; 
long digression. I was going to have 
said, that as I always looked upon your 
character with great admiration, so no- 
thing raises it higher in my esteem, than 
to observe that you are almost the only 
person in these tempestuous days, who 
has wisely retreated into harbour, and 
are enjoying the happy fruits of those im- 
portant studies which are attended with 
more public advantage, aswell as private 
satisfaction, than all the ambitious ex 
ploits or voluptuous indulgencies of these 
licentious victors. The contemplative 
hoursyou spent at yourTusculan villa arc, 
ill my estimation indeed, what alone de- 
serve to be called life; and I would wil- 
lingly renounce the whole wealth and 
splendour of the world, to bo at liberty to 
pass ni}' time in the same philosophical 
manner. Ifollowyourexample, however, 
as far as the circumstances in which I am 
])laced willpermit; and haverecoursewith 
great satisfaction of mind, to my favourite 
studies. Since our country, indeed, either 
cannot or will not accept our services ; 
who shall condemn us for returning to 
that contemplative privacy which many 
jdiilosophers have thought preferable (I 
Vi'ill not say with reason, Jiowever they 
have preferred) even to the most public 
and patriot labours? And why should we 
not indulge ourselves in those learned in- 
quiries, which some of the greatest men 
have deemed a just dispensation from all 
public euiployment ; when it is a liberty 

+ These elephants were drawn up in tlie front 
of the right and left wing of Scipio's army. But 
being driven back upon the line behind them, 
fhcy put the ranks into great coiifusii)n; and 
instead of proving any advantage tw Scipio, 
euntributcd to fav;ilit9te bis defeat, 


Sect. I. 



at the sanip time which the coimiinn- 
Avcahh itself is willing to allow us? — But 
lam <roiug beyond the commission which 
(-'aninius gavf me : and while he only 
desired that 1 would uccjiiaiut you with 
those articles of which vou were not al- 
ready apprised, I am telling you what 
vou know far hetter than l-caij, inform 
you. For the future, I shall confine 
lnv^(■lf more siriclly to your recjuest; 
and will not fail of comtimnicatiiig to 
you whatever intelligence I luay learn, 
which 1 shall tiiiidv it imports you to 
know. I'arewel. 


To Pupirius I'lTttis. 

(A. U. 707.) 
•^^OUR letter atlorded me a very agree- 
^ able instance of vour friendship, iu 
the concern it expressed lest 1 should be 
uneasy at the report which had been 
brought hither by Silius*. I was before 
indeed perfectly sensible how much you 
were disturbed at this circumstance, by 
your care in sending me duplicates of a 
former letter upon the same subject: and 
I then returned such an answer as I 
thouglit would be sulTicient to abate at 
least, if not entirely remove, this your 
generous solicitude. But since 1 perceive, 
by your last letter, how much this atlair 
still dwells upon your mind ; let me assure 
you, my dear Partus, that I have employ- 
ed every artifice (for we must now, my 
friend, be armed with cunning as well as 
prudence) to conciliate the good graces 
of the persons you mention; and, if I 
mistake not, my endeavours have not 
proved in vain. I receive indeed so many 
marks of respect and esteem from those 
who are most in Caesar's favour, that I 
cannot but flatter myself they have a true 
regard for me. It nmst be confessed at 
the same time, that a pretended atleetion 
is not easily discernible from a real one, 
unless iu seasons of ilistress. For advei'sily 
is to friendship what fire is to gold ; the 
only infallible test to discover the genuine 
from the counterfeit; in all other circum- 
stances they both bear the same common 
signatures. 1 liaveone strong reason, how- 
ever, to persuade me of their sincerity ; 
as neither their situation nor mine can by 
any means tempt them to dissemble with 

* Silhis, it should secin, had brought an ac- 
f'-juiit from tlie army, that some witticisms of 
Cicero had been rt-portcd to Cocsar, whicii had 
jrivcn him yftVace, 

me. As to that person f in wlioin all 
power is now centered, I am not sensible 
that 1 have any thing to fear from him; 
or nothing more, at least, tlian what arises 
fromthatgeueralprecariousstatein which 
all things must stand where; the fence of 
laws is broken down ; and from its being 
impoi.sible to pronounce witii assurance 
concerning any event, which depends 
whiillv upon the will, not to say the ca- 
price, of another. But this 1 can with 
confidence aflirm, that I have not in any 
single instance given him just (»ccasion to 
takeoOence ; and in the article you point 
out, I have been particularly cautious. 
'J'here was a time, 'tis true, when I 
thought it well became me, by whom 
Rome itself was freet, to speak my sen- 
timents with fieedom: but now that our 
liberties arc no more, I deem it equally 
agreeable to my present situation, not to 
say any thing that may disgust either 
Ca:sar or his favourites. But Mere I to 
suppress every rising raillery that might 
pi(jue those at whom it is directed, 1 must 
renounce, you know, all my reputation 
as a wit. And in good earnest, it is a cha- 
racter upon which 1 do not set so high a 
value, as to be unwilling to resign it if it 
were in my power. However, I am in 
no danger of sutfcring in Caisar's opinion, 
by being re{)resente(l as the author oi'any 
sarcasms to w hich 1 have no claim ; for 
his judgment is much too penetrating 
ever to be deceived by any imposition of 
this nature. I remember your brother 
Servius, whom I look upon to have been 
one of the most learned., critics that this 
age has produced, was so conversant in 
the writings of the poets, and had ac- 
quired sueii an excellent and judicious 
ear, that he could immediately distinguish 
the numbers of Plautus from those of any 
other author. Thus Caesar, I am told, 
when he made his large collection of 
apophthegms §, constantly' rejected any 
piece of wit that was brought to him as 
mine, if it happened to be spurious : a 
distinction which he is much more able 
to make at present, as his particular friends 
pass almost every dav of their lives in my 

f Caesar. 

J Alluding- to his sen ices iu the suppression 
of Cataliuo's cnuspiiacj'. 

§ This coliocliou was made by Caesar when he 
was very young ; and probably it was a perfonn- 
ancc by no means to his honour. For Au- 
gustus, into uiiuse hanJs it came after his death, 
v>ould not sa;Vcr it to be published. 

D 1 company. 


E L r. G A x\ T E P 1 S T L E S. 

Book I. 

Hirtius*, however, assures me, that him- 
self as well as Balbiis ami Oppius (who, 
let me observe bv the wav, are every one 
of them greatly in your interest), liuvc 
vrittcn to Cxsar tor this purpose. I 
thought proper tiierefore to sciiil you this 
piece of intelligence for two reasons. In 
the fust place, that yon might know wlicic 
to engage a lodging; or rather, that you 
Plight secure one in both these towns; for 
it is extremely uncertain at which of them 
Caesar will disen-.bark. And in the next 
place, in order to indulge a little piece of 
vanity, by shewing you that lam so well 
"w ith these favourites of (Ja?sar, as to be 
admitted into their privy council. To 
.speak seriously, I see no reason to decline 
their fViendsliip; for surely there is a wide 
<1it}erence between submitting tocvilswe 
cannot remedy, and approving measures 
that we ought to condemn: though, to 
confess the truth, I do not know there 
are any that I can justly blame, except 
those which involved us in the civil wars; 
for these, it must be owned, Mere altoge- 
ther voluntary. I saw indeed (what your 
distance from Rome prevented you from 
observingt) that our party were eager 
for war; while (nesar, on the contrary, 
appeared less inclined than afraid to have 
recourse to arms. Thus far, therefore, 
our calamities might have been p.event- 
ed; but all beyond was unavoidable; for 
one side or the otiicr must necessarily 
prove superior. Now, we both of us, I 
am sure, always lamented those infinite 
mischiefs that would ensue, whichever 
general of the two contending armies 
should happen to fall in battle; as we were 
well convinced that of all the complicated 
evils which attend a civil'war, victoiy is 
the supreme. I dreaded it indeed even 
on that side wh icli both you and I thought 
proper to join ; as they threatened most 
cruel vengeance on those who stood neu- 
ter, and were no less offended at your 
sentiments than at my speeches. But 
had they gained this last battle, weshould 
still more severely have experienced the 
effects of theirpower; as our late conduct 
had incensed them to the highest degree. 
Yet what measures have we taken for our 
own security, that we did not warmly 

* He lived in great intimacy with Caesar, and 
had served under him. in quality of one of his 
lieutenants in Gaul. 

f Varro, at the breaking: out of the civil war, 
u-as iii Spain ; where he resided in quality of one 
of Pompey's lieutenants. 

recommend fortluirs? And how have 
they more advantaged the republic by 
having recourse to .Tuba and his ele- 
phanlst, than if they liad perished by 
their own swords, or submitted to live 
umler the present system of atfairs, with 
some hopesat least, if not w ith the fairest .-* 
But they may tell us perhaps (and i\i- 
dred with truth), that the government 
under \\hich we havi' chost-n to live, is 
altogether turbulent and unsettled. 
this objeetion, however, have weight 
with those who have treasured up no stores 
in their minds to support themselves un- 
der all the possible vicissitudes of human 
aliiiirs : a reflection which brings me 
round to what I had principally in view. 
^^llen 1 undesignedly wandered into tin 
long digression. I was going to ha\e 
said, that as I always looked upon your 
character ■with great admiration, so no- 
thing raises it higher in my esteem, than 
to observe that 30U are almost the only 
person in these tempestuous days, who 
has wisely retreated into harbour, and 
are enjoying the happy fruits of those im- 
portant studies which are attended with 
more public advantage, as well as private 
satisfaction, than all the ambitious ex- 
ploits or voluptuous indulgencies of these 
licentious victors. The contemplative 
hoursyou spent at yourTusculan villa are, 
ill my estimation indeed, what alone de- 
serve to be called life; and I would wil- 
lingly renounce the whole wealth and 
splendour of the world, to be at liberty to 
pass my tiine in the same philosophical 
manner. Ifollowyourexample, however, 
as far as the circumstances in which I am 
placed willpermit; and have recourse with 
great satisfaction of mind, to my favourite 
studies. Since our country, indeed, either 
cannot or will not accept our services ; 
who shall condemn us for returning to 
that contemplative privacy which many 
jihilosophers have thought preferable (I 
will not say with reason, however they 
have preferred) even to the most public 
and patriot labours? And why should we 
not indulge ourselves in those learned in- 
quiries, w hich some of the greatest men 
have deemed a just dispensation from all 
public enjployment ; when it is a liberty 

+ These eleplinnts were drav»n up in the front 
of tlic right ami left win)^ of Scipio's army. But 
boing driven back upon the line behind them, 
they put the ranks into great confus'^jn; and 
iiistciid of proviujj any advantage tw Scipio, 
Contributed to fapilitptc bis defeat, 


Sect. I. 



at the same time which the coiniiion- 
weahh itself is uilliiig to allow us? — Uiit 
lata iioiiig beyond the cotiinii.s-,ion which 
(!aaiiiius gave IDC ; and while lie only 
desired that 1 would acfjuaint you with 
those articles ot'whieh yon were not al- 
ready apprised, I am telling you what 
vou know far better thai» I'caii inform 
von. I'or the future, I shall confine 
invsclf more strictly to your request; 
and 'will not lail of connnnnicaling to 
you whatever intelligence I may learn, 
^^hich 1 shall think it imports you to 
know. Farcwcl. 


To Pupirius I'irtiis. 

(A. U. 707.) 
"VT-OUR letter all'orded me a very agrec- 
^ able instance of your friendship, in 
the concern it expressed lest 1 shonhl be 
uneasy at the report which had been 
brought hither by Silius^-'. I was before 
indeed perfectly sensible how much you 
were disturbed at this circumstance, by 
your care in sending me duplicates of a 
former letter uj)on the same subject: and 
I then returned such an answer as 1 
thought would be sulTicient to abate at 
least, if not entirely remove, this your 
generous solicitude. But since 1 perceive, 
by your last letter, how much this atlair 
still dwells upon yourmind; let me assure 
you, my dear Paitus, that I have employ- 
ed every artifice (for we must now, my 
friend, be armed with cunning as well as 
prudence) to conciliate the good graces 
of the persons you mention; and, if I 
mistake not, my endeavours have not 
proved in vain. I receive indeed so many 
marks of respect and esteem from those 
who are most in Caesar's favour, that I 
cannot but flatter myself they have a true 
regard for me. It must be confessed at 
the same time, that a pretended atl'ection 
is not easily discernible from a real one, 
unless in seasons of distress. For adversity 
is to friendshi}) what fire is to gold ; the 
only infallible test to discover the genuine 
from the counterfeit; in all other circum- 
stances thev both bear the samecommoii 
signatures. 1 haveone stiongreason, how- 
ever, to persuade me of their sincerity ; 
as neither their situation nor mine can by 
any means tempt them to dissemble with 

* Silias, it sliould seem, liad brought an ac- 
f uiiut from tlie anny, tiiat some witticisms of 
Ci'.-oro had been n'portod to Cxsar, wiiicii had 
jrivtn hiin offence. 

me. As to that person j- in whom all 
power is ni»w center(;d, 1 am not sensible 
that I have any thing to fear from him; 
or ii(;thing more, at least, than what arisen 
from thatgeneralprecariousstatein which 
all things must stand where the fence of 
laws is broken down ; and from its being 
impossible to pronounce witii assurance 
concerning any event, which depends 
wholly upon the will, not to say the ca- 
price, of another. But this 1 can with 
confidence aflirm, that I have not in any 
single instance given him just occasion to 
takeotVence; and in the article you point 
out, I have been particularly cautious. 
'J'hcrc was a time, 'tis true, when I 
thought it well became me, by whom 
Rome it.sclf was freeX, to speak my sen- 
timents with fieedom: but now that our 
liberties are no more, I deem it equally 
agreeable to my present situation, not to 
say any thing that may disgust either 
Cci'sar or his favourites. But were I to 
suppress every rising railleiy that might 
pique those at whom it is directed, 1 must 
renounce, you know, all my reputation 
as a wit. And in good earnest, it is a cha- 
racter upon whicli I lio not set so high a 
value, as to be unwillinij to resijrn it if it 
were in my power. However, 1 am in 
no danger ofsuUering inCaisar'sopinion, 
by being re[)resente<l as the author oiany 
sarcasms to which I have no claim ; for 
his judgment is much too penetrating 
ever to be deceived by any imposition of 
this nature. I remember your brother 
Servius, Avhom I look upon to have been 
one of the most learned, critics that this 
age has produced, was so conversant in 
the writings of the poets, and had ac- 
quired sueh an excellent and judicious 
ear, that he could immediately distinguish 
the numbers of Plautus from those of any 
other author. Thus Caesar, I am told, 
when he made his large collection of 
apophthegms §, constantly rejected any 
piece of wit that was brought to him as 
mine, if it happened to be spurious : a 
distinction which he is much more able 
to makeat present, as his particular friends 
pass almost every day of their lives in my 

•f- Ca?sar. 

I Alluding: to his sonices in the suppression 
of Catalinc's i-oiispiracy. 

§ 'I'his colloi-tion was made by Caesar when he 
was \ciy youn^- ; and prob.^b!y it was a perfonn- 
anco by no means to liis honour. For Au- 
gustus, into V. hose hands it ccunn after his death, 
would not sa;lcr it i^j be published. 

D 4- company. 



l)i)ok I. 

coinpr4ny. As our conversation generally 
turns upon a variety of subjects, I fre- 
quently strike out thoughts which they 
look upon as nat altogether void, per- 
haps, ofspirit and ingenuity. Now these 
little sallies of pleasantry, together with 
tiie general occurrences of Rome, are 
constantly transmited to C;csar, in pur- 
suance of his own express direction : so 
that ifany thingofthiskind hementioned 
by others as coming from me, he always 
disregards it. You see, then, that the 
lines you quote with so much propriety 
from the tragedy of Q^nomaus*, con- 
tain a caution altogether unnecessary. 
For tell me, my friend, what jealousies 
can I possibly create ? Or w ho will look 
with envy upon a man in my humble 
situation? But granting that I Mere in 
ever so enviable a state; yet let me ob- 
serve, that it is the opinion of those pbi- 
losopiicrs, \\ho alone seem to have un- 
derstood the true nature of rirtue, that a 
good man is answerable for nothing iar- 
tijer than his own innocence. Now in 
this respect I think myself doubly irre- 
proachable: in the first place, by having 
reconniieiulcd such public measures as 
were for the interest of the common- 
wealth; and in the next, that finding I 
was not sullicientiy supported to render 
my counsels cliectual, I did not deem 
it advisable to contend for them by arms 
against a superior strength. Most cer- 
tainly, therefore, I camiot justly be ac- 
cused of having failed in the duty of a 
good citizen. Tlie only part then that 
now remains fur me, is to be cautious not 
to expose myself, by any indiscreet word 
or action, to the resentment of those in 
power: a part which 1 hold likewise to 
be agreeable to the character of true 
wisdom. As to the rest; what liberties 
any man may take in imputing words to 
me which 1 never spoke, what credit 
Coisar may give to such reports; and 
how far those who court my friendship, 
are really sincere; these are points fur 
which it is by no means in mv power to 
be answerable. My tranquillity arises, 
therefore, from the conscious integrity of 
iny counsels in the times that are past, and 
from the moderation of my conduct in 
thesethatare present. Accordingly,! ap- 
ply the simile you quote from Acciusf, 
not only to Envy, but to Fortune; that 

* Written by Acoius, a tragic poet, who flou- 
rished .bout the year of Rome 617. 

f 'i ;.j poet mentioned in the preceding re- 

weak and inconstant power, whom every 
wise and resolute mind should resist with 
as nmch firmness as a rock repels the 
waves. Grecian story will abundantly 
supply exam[)!es of the greatest men, 
both at Athens and Syracuse, w ho have 
in some sort prest-rvetl their independen- 
CT amidst the fjeneral servitude of their 
ropcctive comnmnities. May I not hope 
then to be able so to comport myself un- 
der the same circumstances, as neither to 
give oflence to our rulers, on the one 
hand, nor to injure the dignity of my 
charp.cter, on the other? 

IJiit to turn from the serious, to the 
jocose part of your letter. — The strain of 
picasantrv you break into, immediately 
after having quoted thctragv^dy of G^jUO- 
mius, puts me in mind of the modern 
method of introducing at the end of those 
graver dram.atic pieces, thebullbon hu- 
n)our of our low mimes, instead of the 
more delicate burlesque of the old Atel- 
lan farces J. Why else do you talk of 
your paltrj' polypus §, and your mouldy 
cheese? In pure good-nature, 'tis true, 
I formerlv submitted to sit down w ith you 
to such homel}- fare : but more refined 
company has iujproved me into a better 
taste. Tor Ilirtius and Dolabella, lot 
me tell you, are my preceptors in the 
science of the table; as in return, they 
are my disciples in that of the bar. But 
I s;i|)pose you have already heard, at 
least if all the town-news be transmitted to 
you, that they frequently declaim at my 
house I!, and that I as often sup at theirs. 
You must not however hope to escape 
my intended visit, by pleading poverty 
in bar to the admission of so luxurious a 
guest. Whilst you were raising a fortune 
indeed, I bore with your parsimonious 
humour : but now that you are in circum- 
stances to support the loss of half your 
wealth, I expect that jou receive me in 

+ Tlicsc Atellan farces, which in the earlier 
periods of the Roman stage were acted at the 
end of the more seriousdraniatic pi'rfurmaiices, 
derived tlieirnaine from Atella, a town in Italy ; 
from wiieuce they were first intrtxliiccd at Itome. 
They consisted of a more liberal and genteel 
kind of humour than the mimes : a species of 
comedy, which seems to have taken its subject 
from low life. 

§ A sea-li^h so extremely tough, that it was 
ncces' ary to beat it a considerable time before 
it could be rendered fit for the table. 

II Cicero had lately instituted a kind of acade- 
my for eloquence in his own house; at which 
several of tlie leading young men in Rome used 
to mcit, in order to exercise theiwselvis in the 
art of oratory. 


Sect. I. 



another manner than you ^TOul(l one of 
vour t:<jnipouudiii<j debtors*. And tlio' 
yoiiT finances nuiy somewhat sulfcr by 
my visit, remember it is better they 
should be imi)aired by treating a iViend, 
than by Icivtbn^ to a stranger. 1 do not 
insist, howevtr, that you spread your ta- 
ble with so unbounded a prolusion as to 
furnish out a splendid treat with the re- 
mains; I am so wonderfully moderate, 
iis to desire nothing more than what is 
perfectlv elegantandoxfpiisite in its kind. 
1 remember to have heard you describe 
an entertainment which was given by 
Phameas. Let yours be the exact copy 
of his : only I sliould be glad not to wait 
for it quite so long. Should you still 
persist, after all, to invite me, as usual, to 
a penurious supper, dished out by the 
sparing hand of maternal a'conomy; even 
this, |.ierhaps, 1 may be able to support. 
]>ut I would fain see that hero bold who 
should dare to set before me the vil- 
lanous trash vou mention; or even one 
of jour boastetl polypuses, with an hue 
as florid as vermilioned Jove •[. Take my 
•word for it, my friend, your prudence 
will not su{}t:'r you to be thus adventu- 
rous. Fame, no doubt, will have pro- 
claimed at your villa my late conversion 
to luxury, long before my arrival: and 
you w ill shiver at the sound of her tre- 
mendous report. Nor must you flatter 
yourself with the hope of abating the 
edge of my appetite, by your cloying 
sweet wines before supper : a silly cus- 
tom which I have now entirely renounc- 
ed: being much wiser than wlun I used 
to damp my stomach with your antepasts 
of olives and Lucanian sausages. — But 
not to run on any longer in this jocose 
strain ; my only serious wish is, that I may 
be able to make jou a visit. You may 
compose your countenance, therefore, 
and return to your mouldy cheese in full 
security: for my being your guest will 

* This alludes to a law which Cxsar passed in 
fu-vour of those who had coatiMCted debts before 
the cominenccment of the civil war. By this law 
<*ommissiouei's were appointed to take an ac- 
count of the estate and effects of lliese dtbtors, 
whicli were to be assigned to their respective 
creditors according to their valuation before the 
civil wra" broke out ; and whatever snms had 
been paid for interest, were to i>e consitlered as 
ilk discharsre of the principal. By this ordinance 
Pietus, it seems, had been a particular sufferer. 

f Piiny, the naturalist, mentions a statue of 
Jupiter erected in the Capitol, which on certain 
fVjstival days it was cuscoOKiry to pain^ with 

occasion yon, as usual, no other e.xpcnc* 
than that of heating your baths. As lor 
all the rest, you are to look upon it as 
mere pleasantry. 

The trouble you have given yourself 
about Selicius's villa I, is extremely ob- 
liging; as your description of it was ex- 
cessively drull. 1 believe thcrelore, from 
the account yon give me, 1 shall renounce 
all thoughts of making that purchase: 
fur though the country, it seems, abounds 
in salt, the neighbourhood, I had, is but 
insipid, i-arewel. 



To Volumniiis. 

\\. U. 707.] 
ou have little reason, believe me, to 
regret the not being present at ni\r 
declamations; and if you should really 
cnvv llirtius,asvou assure meyoushould 
if yon did not love him, it must be much 
more for his own elotjuence, than as hu 
is an auditor of mine. In truth, my dear 
Volumniu.s, either I am utterly void of 
all geniu.s, or incapable of exercising it 
to mv satisfaction, now that I have lost 
those illustrious tel low-labourers at the 
bar, that fired me w iih eumlation when 
I used to gain your judicious applause, 
if ever, indeed, I displayed the powers 
of eloquence with advantage to my re- 
putation, let me send a sigh when I re- 
flect, with the fallen Philoctetes in the 
play, that 

These potent shafts, the heroes' wonted dread. 
Now spend on nie;>iier war their idle force ; 
Aiui'd at the weak, inhabitants of air I 

However, if 5X)u will give me your com- 
pany here, my spirits will be more en- 
livened; though I need not add, that 
vou will find me engaged in a multitude 
of very important occupations. But if I 
can once get to the end of them (as I 
most earnestly wish), I shall bid a long 
farewel both to the forum and the senate, 
and chiefly devote my time to you and 
some few others of our common friends. 
In this number areCassiusand Dolabella, 
who are united with us in the same fa- 
vourite studies, and to whose perform- 
ances I with great pleasure attend. But 
we want the assistance of your refined 
judgment, and of that unconmion erndi- 
tiou which has often struck me with awe 

In Naples. 


li L E (; A X T EPISTLE S. 


when I have been delivering my senti- 
ments before you. I hnve determined 
then, it'l should obtain the consent, or at 
least the permission of Ccesar, to retire 
from thiit stage on Tihich I have fre- 
quently performed a part that he himself 
has applauiled. It is my resolution, in- 
deed, totally to conceal myself in the 
secret shades of philosophy; ^vhere I 
hope to enjoy, \\h\\ you and some others 
ofthesnme conteniplativedisposition, the 
honourable fruits of a studious leisure. 

I am sorry you shortened your last hit- 
ter in the apprehension that I should not 
have patience to read a longer. But as- 
sure your.sclf for ti»e future, that the 
longer yours are, the more acceptable 
they will always prove to me. Farewel. 


To Pap ir ins Pectus. 

[A. U. 707.] 
■«7-ouR letter gave mc a double plca- 
^ sure: for it not only diverted me ex- 
tremely, but was a proof like\ that 
you are so well recovered as to be able to 
indulge your usual gaiety. I was well con- 
tented at the same time to find myself the 
subject of your raillery; and, in truth, 
the repeated provocations I had given 
you, were sulTicient to call forth all the 
severity of your satire. I\Iy only regret 
is, that I am prevented from taking my 
intended journey into your part of the 
■world; where I proposed to have made 
myself, I do not say your guest, but one 
of your family. You would have found 
me wonderfully changed from the man 
I formerly was, when you used to cram 
we with your cloying antepasts*. For 
I now more prudently sit down to table 
witii an appetite altogether unimpaired, 
and most heroically make mv way 
through every dish that comes before 
mc, from the eggf that leads the van, 
to the roast veal that brings up the 

* TlicK; antepasts stfim to havf btcn a kind of 
collation preparatory to the principal tntcrtain- 
riiint. Tlx-y gciK-rally consibted, it i.s probable, 
of such di5hi:s as were provocati\es to appe- 
tite: butpnulentrrroro.iiists, asmay bcoollcct- 
tfl from the turn of Cirero's raillery, sometimes 
contrived them in such a manner as to damp 
ratiier than improve the stonjaoh of their f;iiests. 

t The lirst dish at (;\ cry iioman table was cou- 
stantlyeggs; which inainlained their po-;t of ho- 
ii'.ur even at the most niiignilkcnt tutcrtuiu- 

Book J. 

rear*. The temperate and uncxpensive 
guest whom you were wont to applaud, 
is now no more. I have bidden a total 
farewel to all the cares of the patriot; 
and have joined the professed enemies of 
my former principles; in short, 1 am be- 
come an absolute Epicurean. You are 
by no means hov\ever to consider me as 
a friend to that injudicious profusion, 
wliich is now the prevailing taste of our 
iiiodorn entertainments: on the contrary, 
it is that more elegant luxury I admire, 
w hich you formerly used to display when 
your (inanccs were more flourishing, 
though your farms were not more nu- 
merous than at present. Be prepared 
therefore for my reception accordingly ; 
and remember you are to entertain a man 
w ho has not only a most enormous appe- 
tite, but who has some little knowledgr, 
kt me tell you, in the science of elegant 
eating. You know there is a peculiar 
air of selF-sufiiciency, that generally dis- 
tinguishes those who enter late into the 
study of any art. You will not wonder, 
therefore, when I take upon me to in- 
form you, that you must banish your 
cakes and your sweetmeats, as articles 
that are now utterly discarded from all fa- 
shionable bills of fare. I am become in- 
deed such a proficient in this science, that 
I frequently venture to invite to my table 
those refined friends of yours, the deli- 
cate Verrius and Camillus. Nay I am 
bolder still, and have presumed to give a 
supper even to Hirtius himself; though, 
I must own, I could not advance so far 
as to honour him with a peacock. To 
tell you the truth, my Isonest cook had 
not skill enough to imitate any other 
part of his .splendid entertainments, ex- 
cept only his smoking soups. 

But to give you a general sketch of mv 
manner of life; I spend the first part or 
the morning in receiving the compliments 
of .several, both of our dejected patriots 
and our gay victors: the latter of whom 
treat me with great marks of civility 
and esteem. As soon as that ceremony 
is over, I retire to my library; where 1 
employ myself either with my books or 
my pen. And here I am sometimes sur- 
rounded by an audience, Avho look upon 
me as a man of most profound erudition, 
for no other reason, perhaps, than because 

+ It appears by apajisagewhich 7\lanntius cites 
from Tertulliap, that the liomans usually con- 
cluded tliiir feuits with bioilcd or roast meat. 

I am 

Stct. I. 



I am not altogether so ignorant as them- 
selves. The rest of my time I wholly 
devote to indulgences of a less intellec- 
tual kind. 1 have suiliciently indeed paid 
the tribute of sorrow to nij'^ unhappy 
country; the miseries whereof 1 have 
longer and more bitterly lamented, than 
ever tender mother bewailed the loss of 
Jier only son. 

Let me desire vou, as you would se- 
cure ^ou^ magazine of provisions from 
falling into my hands, to take care of 
your health; fori have most unmerci- 
fully resolved that no pretence of indis- 
jKjsition sh;ill preserve your larder from 
my depredations. Farewel. 

To Gallus. 

[A. U. 707.] 
T AM much surprised at your reproaches; 
''- as I am sure they are altogether with- 
out foundation. But were thej' ever so 
just, they would come with a very ill 
grace from you, who ought to have re- 
membered those marksof distinction you 
received from me during my consulate. 
It seems, however (for so you are pleased 
to inform me), that Coesar will certainly 
restore you. I know you are never 
sparing of your boasts: but I know too, 
that they have the ill luck never to be 
credited. It is in the same spirit you re- 
mind me, that you oOered yourself as a 
candidate for the tribunitial office, merely 
in order to serve me *. Now to shew 
you how much I am in your interest, I 
wish you were a tribune still : as in that 
case you could not be at a loss for an in- 
tercessor ■\. You go on to reproach me, 
with not daring to speak my sentiments. 
In proof however of the contrarv', I need 
only refer you to the reply I made, 
when you had the front to solicit my asr 

Thus (to let you see how absolutely 
impotent you are, where you most atV 
feet to appear formidable), I thought 

* Probably during Cicero's exile. 

f Cicero's witticisn> in this passage, turns 
vpon the double sense of the word intercessor : 
which, bc.-iides its general meaniiisr, has relation 
likewise to a particular privilege annexed to the 
tribunitial office. For everj' tribune had the 
liberty of interposing his negative upon the pro- 
i'cedings of the senate : which act was called 
t/ihrccssio, and the person who executed it was 
!«aid to be the inlercessor of the particular law, or 
s'ther matter in deliberati&u. 


proper to ans\rer you in your own style. 
If you had made your remonstrances in 
the spirit of good manners, 1 should with 
pleasure, as I could with ease, have vin- 
dicated myself from your charge: and 
in truth, it is not your conduct, but your 
language, that I have reason to resent. 
I am astonished indeed that you, of all 
men living, sliould accuse me'of want of 
freedom, who are sensible it is by mv 
means that there is any freedom left in 
the republic t. I say you of all men liv- 
ini; : because, if the informations you 
gave me concerning Cataline's conspira- 
cy were f.dse ; where are the services of 
which you remind me? If they were 
true, you yourself are the best judge how- 
great those obligations are which I have 
conferred upon every Roman in general. 

To Casar. 

[A. U. 703.) 
VERY particularly recommend to your 
favour the son of our worthy and com- 
mon friend Prascilius: a youth whose 
modest and polite behaviour, together 
with his singular attachment to myself, 
have exceedingly endeared him to me. 
His father likewise, as experience has 
now fully convinced me, was always my 
most sincere well-wisher. l"or to confess 
the truth, he was the first and most zeal- 
ous of those who used both to rally and 
reproach me for not joining in your 
cause: especially after you had invited 
me by so many honourable overtures. 

All unavailing: prov'd his every art, 
To shake the purpose of my steadfast heart. 
HoM. Odyss. vii. '2j8. 

For whilst the gallant chiefs of our 
party were on the other side perpetualU- 
exclaiming to me, 

Kise thou, distinguish'd 'midat the eons of 

And fair transmit to times unborn thy name. 

HoM. Odyss. i. 5'12. 
Too easy dupe of flattery's specious voice, 
Darklmg Istray'dfrom wisdom's better choice. 
HoM. Odyss. xxiv. 31-i. 

And fain would they still raise my spi- 
rits, while they endeavour, insensible as I 

J Alluding to his having supprcsged Cataline's 


4 + 


Cook L 

HOW am to the charms of glory, to re- 
kindle that passion in my licart. With 
ihis view they are ever repealing, 

O lut mt» not inirlorions sink in dtath, 
Auil yield like vul^nr souls my parting breath: 
III some brave effort y;i\c me to expire, 
Thaidistant a^cs may the det-d a'Iniire ' 

HoM. II. xxii. 
But I am immoveable, as you see, by 
■•11 their persuasions. Renouncinsf, there- 
fore, the pompous lieroics of Homer, I 
turn to the just maxims of Euripides, and 
say with that poet. 

Curse on the sage, who, impotently wise, 
O'erlooks the paths where humbler prudence 

My old friend Przecilius Is a great ad- 
mirer of the sentiment in these lines ; in- 
sisting, that a patriot may preserve a 
prudential regard to his own safety, and 


Abo'.c his peers the fii^t in honour shine. 

HoM. II. vi. 208. 

But to return from this digression: 
you will greatly oblige me by extending 
to this young man that unconunon ge- 
nerosity which so peculiar!}- marks your 
character; and by suflering my recom- 
mendation to increase the number of 
those favours which I am persuaded you 
are disposed to confer upon him for the 
sake of his family. 

I have not addressed you in the usual 
style of recommendatory letters, that 
you might see I did not intend this as 
an application of common form. Fare- 


To Casar. 

FA. U. TOS.] 
A MONGST all our young nobility, Pub- 
-^ lius Crassus was one for whom I en- 
tertained the highest regard ; and indeed 
he amply justified, in his more mature 
years, the favourable opinion I had con- 
ceived of him from his infancy. It was 
during his life that his fretdman Apol- 
lonius first recommended himself to mv 
esteem; for he was zealously attached to 
the of his patron, and perfectly 
well qualified to a.ssist him in those noble 
studies to which he wa.-; devoted; ac- 
cordingly Crassus was extremely fond of 
him. But Apollonius, after the death 
of his patron, proved himself still more 
worthy of my protection and friendship; 

as he distinguished with peculiar mark.s 
of respect all who loved Cra.ssus, or had 
been beloved bv him. It was this that 
induced Apollonius to follow me into 
Cilicia: where, upon many occasions, I 
received singular advantage from his 
faitlifnl and judicious services. If I 
mi.stake not, his most sincere and zeal- 
ous olikes were not wanting to you like- 
wise in the Alexandrine war, and it is 
in the hope of your thinking so, that he 
has resolved, in concurrence with my 
.sentiments, but chiefly indeed from his 
own, to wait upon you in Spain. I would 
not, however, to recommend 
him to your favour. Not that I suspect- 
ed my a|)plications would be void of 
weight; but I thought they would be 
unnecessary in behalf of a man who had 
served in the army under vou, and whon), 
from your regard to the memory of 
Cra.ssus, you would undoubtedly con- 
sider as a friend of your own. Beside.s, 
I knew he could easily procure letters of 
this kind from many other hands. But 
as he greatly values my good opinion, 
and as I am sensible it has some influ- 
ence upon yours, I ver\' willingly give 
him my testimonial. Let me assure you 
then, that I know him to be a man of 
literature, and one vvho has applied 
himself to the polite arts from his earliest 
youth. For when he was a boy he fre- 
quently visited at my house with Dio- 
dotus the Stoic: a philosopher, in my 
judgment, of consummate erudition. 
Apollonius, inflamed with zeal for the 
glory of your actions, is greatly desirous 
of recording them in Greek ; and I think 
him veiy capable of the undertaking. 
He has an excellent genius, and has been 
particularly conversant in studies of the 
historical kind : as he is wonderfully 
ambitious likewise of doing justice to 
your immortal fame. are my 
sincere sentiments of the inan ; but how 
far he deserves them, your own superior 
judgment will best determine. But 
though I told Apollonius that I should 
not particularly recommend him to your 
favour; yet I cannot forbear as.suring 
you, that every instance of your gene- 
rosity towards him will extremely oblige 
me. Farevvel. 

Sect. I. 





Quintiiis Cicero to Marcus Cicero *. 

PROTEST to you, my dear brother, 
you have performed an act extremely 
agreeable to me in giviiigTiro his free- 
dom ; as a state of servitude was a situa- 
tion far unworthy of his merit. Iklieve 
me, I felt the highest complacency, when 
1 found by his letter and yours, that you 
rather chose we should look upon him in 
the number of our friends, than in that 
of our slaves: and I both congratulate 
and thank you lor liiis instance of your 
generosity towards him. If I receive so 
much satisfaction from the services of my 
freedman Statins; how much more va- 
luable must the same good qualities ap- 
pear in Tiro, as they have the additional 
advantages of his learning, his wit, and 
Iiis politeness, to recommend theui ? I 
have many powerful motives for the af- 
fection I bear you; and this mark of your 
beneficence to Tiro, together with your 
giving me part (as indeed you had reason) 
in the family-joy upon this occasion, still 
increases the number. In a word, I saw 
and admired all the amiable qualities of 
your lieart, in the letter you wrote to me 
on the subject. 

I have promised my best services to 
the slaves of Sabfnus ; and it is a pro- 
mise I will most assuredly make good. 


To Tiro. 

[A. U. 70S.] 
xTOL'ii letter encourages me to hope 
^ that you find yourself better; I am 
sure, at least, I most sincerely wish that 
you ma^^ I intreat you, therefore, to 
consecrate all your cares to thatend; and 
by no means indulge so mistaken a sus- 
picion as that I am displeased you are not 
with me. With me you are, in the best 
sense of that expression, if yon are taking 
care of your health; which 1 had much 
rather you should attend, than on myself. 
For though I always both see and hear 
you with pleasure; that pleasure will be 
greatly increased, when 1 shall have the 
satisfaction at the same time to be as- 
sured that you are perfectly well. 

* Tlie date of this letter is altpjjeth^r une«rtaJn. 

My work is at present suspended f, as 
I caimot make use of my own hand : 
however, I employ myself a good deal in 
reading. If your transcribers shouhl be 
])uzzled with my manuscript, I beg you 
would give them your assistance : as in- 
deed there is an interlineation relating to 
a circumstance in Cato's behaviour when 
he was only four years of age, that I could 
scarce decypher myself. You will con- 
tinue vourcare likewise, that the dining- 
room be in proper order for the reception 
of our guests : iu which nundjer, I dare 
say I may reckon Tertia, provided Pub- 
lius be not invited. 

That strange fellow Demetrius was al- 
ways, I know, the very reverse of his 
namesake of Phaleris: but 1 find he is 
now grown more insuflerable than ever, 
and is degenerated an arrant Bilie- 
nusj. I resign the management of him 
therefore entirely into your hands; and 
you will pay your court to him accord- 
ingly. But — hoivever — d'l/e see — and as 
to that — (to present you witii a few of his 
own elegant expletives) if you should 
have any conversation with him, let me 
know, that it may furnish me with the 
subject of a letter, and at the same time 
allord me the pleasure of reading so much 
longer an one from yourself. In the 
mean while take care of your health, my 
dear Tiro, I conjure y^ou; and be well 
persuaded, that you cannot render me a 
more pleasing service. Farewel. 



To Dotabella §. 

[A. U. 708.] 

H ! that the silence you so kindly re- 
ret, had been occasioned by my 
own death, rather than by the severe 
loss I have suffered ^ ; a loss I should be 
better able to support, if I had you with 
me. For vour judicious counsels, and 
singular aft'ection towards me, would 
greatly contribute to alleriate its weight. 
This good office indeed I may yet per- 

f The work to which Cicero alhides, w.i^ pro- 
bably a panepryric npon Cato; which he wrote 
jiUil published ;d)ont this time. 

t Who thi.s person and Demetrius were, i» 
utterly unknown ; but it is probable that the ri- 
diculou-; part of their character-;, to whichCicero 
lieie alludis, was that of being very dull anl 
inelegant orators. 

§ He was at this time with Caesar in Spain. 

•I The death of his daushter TuUia. 




l)Ook I. 

hap5 receire; for as I imaf^ine \vc shall 
soon see you here, von will find me still 
so deeply allcct cd, as to have an opportu- 
nity ot'airordinir me great as.sistancr. Not 
that this allliction has so broken mv spi- 
rit as to rentier me unmindful that I am 
a man, or apprehensive that I must total- 
ly sink under its pressure. But all that 
cheerfulness and vivacitv of temper, 
which you once so particularly admired, 
}ias now, alas! entirelv forsaken me. 
3Jy fortitude and resolution, neverthe- 
less (if these virtues were ever mine), 
1 still retain, and retain them too in the 
same vigour as when you left me. 

As to those battles which, you tell mc, 
you have sustained upon my account ; 
I am far less solicitous that you should 
confute my detractors, than that the 
world should know (as it unquestionably 
does) that I enjoy a place in your afl'ec- 
tion : and may you still continue to ren- 
der that truth conspicuous. To this re- 
«p-'est I will add another, and entreat you 
to excuse me for not sending you a longer 
lettfr. I shorten it, not oidv as ima- 
jrining wc shall soon meet, but because 
my mind is at present by no mf ans suffi- 
ciently composed for writing. Farewel. 


Scrz-ius Sulpicius to Cicero. 

[A. V. 708.] 
T Rrcr.ivED the news of your daughter's 
^ death, with all the concern it so justly 
deserves; and indeed I cannot but con- 
sider it as a misfortune in which I bear 
an equal share with yourself. If I had 
been near you when this fatal accident 
happened, I should not only have min- 
gled n)y tears with yours, but assisted you 
with all the consolation in mv power. I 
am sensible, at the same time, that offices 
t)f this kind all'ord at best but a wretched 
relief; for as none are qualified to per- 
ionu them, but those who stand near to 
us by the ties either of blood or aftect ion, 
iuch persons are generally too much af- 
flicted themselves to be capable of admi- 
nistering comfort to others. Iseverthe- 
less, I thought proper to suggest a ^cw 
reflections which occurred to me upon 
this occasion: not as imagining lliey 
would be new to you, but believing that 
in your present discomposure of mind, 
they might possibly have escaped your 
attention. Tell me then, my friend, 
\Ahciefore do you indulge this excess of 
sorrow? lieflect, I intreat vou, in what 

manner fortune has dealt with everyone 
of us; thai she has dc|)rived us of what 
ought to be no less dear than our chil- 
dren, and overwhelmed in one general 
ruin our honours, our liberties, and our 
country. And after these losses, is it pos- 
sible that any other should increase our 
tears ? Is it possible that a mind long ex- 
ercised in calaniitiessotruly severe, should 
not become totally callous and indiflerent 
to every event ? But von will tell me, per- 
haps, that your grief arises not so nuich 
on your own account, as on that of Tullia. 
Yet surely you must often, as well as my- 
self, have had occasion in these wretched 
times to reflect, that their condition by ' 
no means deserves to be regretted, whom 
death has gently removed from this un- 
happy scene. Wliat is there, let me ask, 
in the present circumstances of our coun- 
try, that could have rendered life greatly 
desirable to your daughter ? What pleas- 
ing hopes, what agreeable views, what 
rational satisfaction could she possibly 
have proposed to herself flom a more ex- 
tended period ? Was it in the pros|>ect of 
conjugal happiness in the society of some 
distinguished youth? as if, indeed, you 
could have found a son-in-law amongst 
our present set of young men, worthy of 
being entrusted with the care of your 
daughter ! Or was it in the expectation 
of being the joyful mother of a flourish- 
ing race, who might possess their patri- 
mony with independence, who might 
gradually rise through the several dig- 
nities of the state, and exert the liberty 
to which they. were born in the service 
and defence of their friends and country ? 
But is there one amongst all these desira- 
ble privileges, of which we were not de- 
prived before she was in a capacity of 
transmitting them to her descendants? 
Yet after all, you may still allege, per- 
haps, that the loss of our children is a 
severe aflliction; and unquestionably it 
would be so, if it were not a much greater 
to see them live to endure those indigni- 
ties which their parents suffer. 

I lately fell into a reflection, which as 
it afforded great relief to the disquietude 
of mv own heart, it may possibly contri- 
bute likewise to assuage the anguish of 
yours. In my return out of Asia, as I 
was sailing from JEgina towards Me- 
gara*, I amused myself witii contem- 

* JE^insL, now called EBgia, is an island situ- 
ated in ihie ;iulf that ruus bot\»cen tke PcJ'ipon- 


Sect. I. 



plating tlie circumjacent countries. Be- 
hind niii lay /Egina, before me Megara ; 
en my right I saw Pineus ^, and on my 
left Corinth f. These cities, once so 
flourishing and magnificent, now pre- 
sented iiotliing to n)y view but a sad 
spectacle of desolation. " Alas," I said 
to myself, "sliall such a short-lived crea- 
" ture as man complain, when one of his 
" species falls either by the hand of vio- 
" Icnce, or by the common course of na- 
" ture : whilst in this narrow compass so 
" manv great and glorious cities, formed 
" for a much longer duration, thus lie 
" extended in ruins? Remember then, 
" oh my heart ! the general lot to which 
" man is born; and let that thought sup- 
" press thy unreasonable murmurs." Be- 
lieve me, I found my mind greatly re- 
freshed and comforted by these reflec- 
tions. Let me advise you in the same 
manner to represent to yourself, what 
numbers of our illustrious countrymen 
have lately been cut ofV at once J ; how 
much the strength of the Roman repub- 
lic is impaired, and what dreadful devas- 
tation has gone forth throughout all its 
provinces! And can you, with the im- 
pression of these greater calamities upon 
your mind, be so immoderately afflict- 
ed for the loss of a single individual, a 
poor, little, tender woman ? who, if she 
had not died at this time, must in a few 
fleeting years more have inevitably un- 
dergone that common fate to which she 
was born. 

Reasonable, however, as these reflec- 
tions are, I would call vou from them a 
Avhile, in order to lead vour thoughts to 
others more pcculiarh'^ suitable to your 
circumstances and character. Remember 
then, that your daughter lived as long as 
life was worth possessing, that is, till li- 
berty was no more: that she lived to see 
you in the illustrious offices of pra-tor, 
consul, and augur; to be married to 
some of the noblest youths in Rome § ; 
to be blessed with almost every valuable 
enjoyment; and at length to expire with 
the republic itself. Tell me now, what 
is there in this view of her fate, that 
could give either her or yourself just rea- 

nesui and Attica, to which it gives its name. 
Mcgara «as a city near the isthmus of Corinth. 

* A celebrated sea-port at a small distance 
from Athens, now called Port Lion. 

f A city in the Peloponnesus. 

J In the civil wars. 

§ Tn Piio, Crassipes, and Dolabella. 

son to complain? In fine, do not forget 
that vou are Cicero, the wise, the philo- 
sophical Cicero, who were w(jnt to give 
advice to others ; nor resemble those un- 
skilful empirics, who at the same time 
that they pretend to be furnished with 
remedies for other men's disorders, are. 
altogether incapable of finding a cure 
for their own. (Jn the contrary, apply 
to your private use those judicious pre- 
cepts yiu have administered to the pub- 
lic. Time necessarily weakens the 
strongest impressions of sorrow ; but it 
Avould be a reproach to your character 
not to anticipate this its certain eifect, 
by the force of j^our own good sense and 
judgment. If the dead retain any con- 
sciousness of what is here transacted, 
your daughter's atVection, lam sure, was 
such, both to you and to all her relations, 
that she can by no means desire you 
should abandon yourself to this excess of 
grief. Restrain it then, I conjure you, 
for her sake, and for the sake of the rest 
of vour family and friends, who lament 
to see you thus aHlicted. Restrain it too, 
I beseech you, for the sakeof your coun- 
try; that whenever the opportunity shall 
serve, it may reap the benehtofyour 
counsels and assistance. In short, since 
such is our fortune that we mUst neces- 
sarilv submit to the present system of 
public afiairs, sutler it not to be suspect- 
ed, that it is not so much the death of 
vour daughter, as the fate of the repub- 
lic, and the success of our victors, that 
you deplore. 

But it would be ill manners to dwell 
any longer upon this subject, as I should 
seem to question the efficacy of your 
4»wn good sense. I will only add, there- 
fore, diat as we have often seen you bear 
prosperity in the noblest manner, and 
with the highest applause; shew us like- 
wise that you are not too sensible of ad- 
versity, but know how to support it with 
the same advantage to your character. 
In a word, let it not be said, that forti- 
tude is the single virtue to which my 
friend is a stranger. 

As for what concerns myself, I will 
send vou an account of the state of this 
province, and of what is transacting in 
this part of the world, as soon as I shall 
hear that vou are sufficiently composed 
to receive the information. Farewel. 



Look I. 


To Soxius Sulpicius. 

(A. V. 70S.) 
JOIN with von, my dear Sulpicius, in 
wishing that vou hail been in Rome 
when tliis most severe calamity befel me. 
I am sensible of the advantage I should 
have received iVoni vour presence, and I 
had almost said your equal participation 
of my grief, by having found myself 
somewhat more composed alter I had 
read vour letter. It furnished me indeed 
■t\-ith argumentsextrcmely proper to sooth 
the anguish of atfliction; and evidently 
flowed from a heart that sympathized 
with the sorrows it endeavoured to as- 
suage. But although I could not enjoy 
the benefit of your own good ofllces in 
person, I had the advantage, iiowever, of 
your son's ; who gave me a proof, by 
every tender assistance that could be con- 
tributed upon so melancholy an occasion, 
how much he imagined that he was act- 
ing agreeably to your sentiments, when 
he thus discovered the affection of his 
own. More pleasing instances of his 
friendship I have frequently received, 
but neveranvthatwere more obliging. As 
to those for whicli I am indebted to your- 
self, it is not only the force of your rea- 
sonings, and the very considerable share 
you take in my afflictions, that have con- 
tributed to compose my mind; it is the 
deference likewise which I ahvays pay 
to the authority of your sentiments. For 
knowing, as I perfectly do, the superior 
wisdom with which you are enlightened, 
I should be ashamed not to support my 
distresses in the manner you think I 
ought. I will acknowledge nevertheless, 
that they sometimes almost entirely over- 
come me : and I am scarce "ble to resist 
the force of mv grief when I reflect, that 
lam destitute of those consolations which 
attended others, whose examples I pro- 
pose to my imitation. Thus Quintus 
Maximus lost a son of consular rank, and 
distinguished by many brave and illustri- 
ous actions; Lucius Paulus was de- 
prived of two sons in the space ofasingje 
week ; and your relation Callus, to- 
gether with JNlarcus Cato, had both of 
them the unhappiness to survive their re- 
spective sons, who were endowed with 
the highest abilities and virtues. Yet 
these unfortunate parents lived in times 
when the honours they derived from the 
republic might in some measure alleviate 

the weight of their douu.slic misfortunes. 
But as for myself, after having been 
stripped of those dignities vou mention, 
and which I had actjuired by the most 
laboriotis exertion of my abilities, I had 
one only consolation remaining : and of 
that I am now bereaved. 1 could no 
longer divert the disquietude of my 
thoughts, by employing mv^'lf in the 
causes of mv friends, or the business of 
the state : for I could no longer with any 
satisfaction appear either in the forum 
or the senate. In short. I justly con- 
sidered nivself ascut otl'from the henefit 
of all those alleviating occupations in 
which fortune and industry had qualified 
me to engage. But I considered too, 
that this was a deprivation which I suf- 
fered in conmion with yourself and 
some others: and whilst 1 was endea- 
vouring to reconcile my mind to a 
patient endurance of those ills; there was 
one to whose tender offices I could have 
recourse, and in the sweetness of whose 
conversation I could discharge all the 
cares and anxiety of my heart. But this, 
last fatal stab to my peace has torn open 
those wounds which seemed in some 
measure to have been tolerably healed. 
For I can now no longer lose mv private 
sorrows in the prosperity of the common- 
wealth, as I was wont to dispel the unea-. 
sincss I suffered upon the public account, 
in the happiness I received at home. Ac- 
cordingly I have equally banished nu'self 
from my house *, and from the public; 
as finding no relief in either, from the 
calamities I lament in both. It is this, 
therefore, that heightens my desire of 
seeing you here; as nothing can afford 
me a more effectual consolation than the 
renewal of our friendly intercourse: a 
happiness which I hope, and am informed 
indeed, that Ishall shortly enjoy. Among 
the many reasons I have for impatientiv 
wishing your arrival, one is, that we may 
previously concert together our scheme 
of conduct in the present conjuncture ; 
which, however, must now be entirely 
accommodated to another's will. This 
person f, 'tis true, is a man of great abi- 
lities and generosity ; and one, if I mis- 
take not, who is by no means my enemy ; 
and I am sure he is extremely your friend. 

* Cicero, upon the <lf:ath of his clau;:;:htor, re- 
tired from Ins own house, to one bt lonsiiiK to 
Atticus near Rome : from which, perhaps, this 
letter wa*; written. 

f Cawar. 


Sect. I. 




Nevertheless it re»]uires much conside- 
ration, I do not say in ^vhat manner we 
shall act with respect to jiublic affairs, 
but by what methods we niav best obtain 
liis permission to retire iVom them. Fare- 


To Lucius Lucccius. 

[A. r. 70S.] 
I.I, the letters I have received from 
you upon the subject of my late mis- 
fortune, were extremely acceptable to 
me, as in.stances of the highest affection 
and good sense. But the great advantage 
I Jiave derived from them, principally 
results from the animating contempt 
with which vou look down upon human 
alliiirs, and that exemplary fortitude 
which arms vou against all the various 
assaults of fortune. I esteem it the most 
glorious privilege of philosophy to bo 
thus superior to external accidents, and 
to depend for happiness on our.selvcs 
alone: a .sentiment, which, although it 
was too deeply planted in my heart to he 
totally eradicated, has been .somewhat 
weakened, I confess, by the violence of 
those repeated storms to which I have 
been lately exposed. But you have en- 
deavoured, and with great success in- 
deed, to restore it to all its usual .strength 
and vigour. I cannot therefore either too 
often or too strongly assure you, that no- 
thing could give me a higher satisfac- 
tion than your letter. But powerful as 
the various arguments of consolation are 
which vou have collected for my use, and 
elegantly as you havs enforced them ; I 
must acknowledge, that nothing proved 
more efiectual than that fnnuiess of mind 
■which I remarked in your letters, and 
winch I should esteem as the utmost re- 
proach not to imitate. But if I imitate, 
I must necessarily excel my guide and in- 
structor in this lesson of fortitude: fori 
am altogether unsupported by the same 
hopes which I find you entertain, that 
public atiairs will improve. Those il- 
lustrations indeed whicii you draw from 
the gladiatorial combats, togtther with 
the whole tendency of vour reasoning in 
general, all concur in forbidding me to 
despair of the commonwealth It would 
be nothing extraordinarj-, therefore, if 
you should be more composed than my- 
self, whilst you are in possession of these 
pleasing hopes: the only wonder is how 

you can possibly entertain any. For say, 
mv friend, what is there of our constitu- 
tion that is not utterly subverted } Look 
round the repid)lic and tell me (vou who 
so well umlerstand the nature of our go- 
vernment) what part of it remains un- 
broken or unimpaired.' Most uncpiestion- 
ably there is not one- as I would prove 
in detail, if I innigined my own discern- 
ment was superior to yours, or were ca- 
pable (notwithstanding all your powerful 
admonitions and precepts) to dwell upon 
so luelancholv a subject without being 
extremely affected. But I will bear my 
domestic misfortunes in the manner you 
assure me that I ought: and as to those 
of the public, I shall support them, per- 
haps, with greater equanimity than even 
my friend. For (to repeat it again) 
you are not, it seems, without .some sort 
of hopes; whereas for myself", I have 
absolutely none; and shall therefore, in 
pursuance of your advice, preserve my 
s|jirits even in the midst of despair. The 
pleasing recollection of those actions you 
lecall to my remembrance, and which, 
indeed, I performed chiefly by your en- 
couragement and reconmiendation, will 
greatly contribute to this end. To say 
the truth, I have done everj'thing for the 
service of my country that I ought, and 
more than could have been expected from 
the courage and counsels of any man. 
You will pardon me, 1 hope, for speak- 
ing in this advantageous manner of njy 
own conduct: but as you advise me to 
alleviate my present uneasiness by a re- 
trospect of my past actions, I will con- 
fess, that in thus commemorating them, 
I find great consolation. 

I shall punctually observe your admo- 
nitions, by calling off my mind as much 
as possible from every thing that may 
disturb its peace, and fixing it on those 
speculations which are at once an orna- 
ment to prosperity and the support of 
adversity, lor this 1 shall en- 
deavour to spend as much of my time 
with you, as our health and years will 
mutuady permit: and if v. e cannot meet 
so often as I am sure we both wish, we 
shall always at least seem present to each 
other by n sympathy of hearts, and an 
union in the same philosophical contem- 
plations. Farewel. 



L L i: G A N T L r I S T L i: s. 

Hook r. 


LET T E R LXX1\'. 
Lucccius to L'icao. 

[A. I . ; vj 
sn\i.L rejoice to hear that you are 
well. As to my own health, it is much 
as iisoal; or rathur, I think, somewhat 

J have frequently called at your door; 
and am nmch surprised to find that you 
have not been in Rome since C'a.sar left 
it. Wliat is it that so stronglj'^ draws 
you from hence? If any of your usual 
engagements of the literary kind renders 
you thus enamoured of solitude, I am 
so far from condemning j'Our retirement, 
that I think of it with pleasure. There 
is no sort of life indeed that can be more 
agreeable, not only in times so disturbed 
as the present, but even in those of the 
most desirable calm and serenity; espe- 
cially to a mind like yours, which mav 
have occasion for repose from its public 
labours, and which is always capable of 
producing somethingthat will atlord both 
pleasure to others ami honour to yourselt". 
liut if you have withdrawn from the 
world, in ortler to give a free vent to 
those tears which you so immodcrateK' 
indulged when you were here, I shall la- 
ment indeed your grief; but (ilvou will 
allow me to speak the truth) I never can 
excuse it. For tell me, my friend, is it 
possible that a man of your uncommon 
discernment should not perceive what is 
obvious to all mankind r Is it possible 
you can be ignorant that your perpetual 
complaints can profit nothing, and only 
serve to increase those disquietudes which 
your good sense recjuires you to subdue? 
But if arguments cannot prevail, intrea- 
ties perhaps may. Let me conjure vou 
then by all the regard vou bear me, to 
dispel this gloom that hangs upon your 
heart ; to return to that society and to 
those occupations which were either 
common to us both, or peculiar to your- 
self. But though I would fain di.ssuadc 
you from continuing yoii;- present way 
of life, yet J would by no means sufier 
my zeal to be troublesome. In the diffi- 
culty therefore of steering between these 
two inclinations, I will onU' add my 
request, that you would either comply 
with my advice, or esquse me for ofier- 
iiig it. Farcwcl. 

L i; r r i. r i.xxv. 

To Lucius Lu.wius. 

(A.I-. 70S.) 
■pvFRv part of your last Utter g!<nved 
-*-* A ith that warmth of frifndsliip,\vliicli, 
though it was by no incans m?w to mv, I 
could not hut observe with peculiir satis- 
faction ; f would -i-Ay pleasure, if that wei'- 
nut a word to which I have now forever 
bidden adieu: not merely, however, for 
the cause you suspect, and for whiih. 
under the gentlest and most alVectionati 
terms, you in fact v<rv severely reproach 
mc; but because all that ought in reason 
to assuage the anguish of so deep a wound, 
is absolutely no n)ore. For whiihor shall 
I fly for consolation? Is it to the bo- 
som of my friends ? But tell me (for 
we have generally shared the same com- 
mon amities together) how few of that 
number are remaining? how few that 
have not perished Ity the sword, or that 
are not become si ran treiy insensible? You 
will say, perhaps, that 1 might seek my 
relief in y(»ur s()ciety: andtlicre indeed I 
would willingly seek it. The same ha- 
bitudes and studies, along intercourse of 
friendship — in short, is tiiere any sort of 
bond, any single circumstance ol'coiinec- 
tion wanting to unite us together? Why 
then are we such strangers to one ano- 
ther? For my own part, I know not: 
but this I know, that we have hitiierto 
seldom met, 1 do not say in Rome, wdiere 
the Forum usually brings every body 
together^-, but when wc were near neigh- 
bours at Tusculnm and Puteolte. 

I know not by what ill fate it ha.-. 
happened, that at an age wlien I might 
expect to liourish in the greatest credit 
and dignits^, I should find myself in so 
wretched a situation as to be ashamed 
that I am still in being. Despoiled indeed 
of every ho-.iour and every comfort that 
adorned mv public life, or smoothed my 
private; what is it that can now allord 
mc any refuge ? My books, I imagine you 
will tell me; and to these indeed I very 
assiduously apply. For to what else can J 

* Tlie Foaim was a plarc of ffcncral resort for 
the wholf- city. ]t was here tliat tlit lawyois 
jileadcd their catisu-;, tiiat the poets recited tlieir 
work-s, aii'i that futioral orations won- spoken in 
honour of the dead. It here, in s-hort, every 
thin.5 was .s?oing fonvar i that could engage tlic 
active or aimise tiie idlu, 


SvCt. /. 

c I c i: 11 o. 


jni-vsibly have recourse? Yet even tiicso 
seem to exclude nie from that peaceful 
por* wliich 1 fain wouhl reacli, ami le- 
jiroach nie, as it Avero, for prolou-^iiiy; 
iliat life whicli only increases my sorrows 
u ilh mv years. Can you wonder tli(Mi 
that 1 absent myself from Kome, where 
Tliere is nothing under n>y own roof to 
allbrd me anv satisfaction, and wiiwe 1 
abhor both piiblitt men and public mea- 
sures, both tlie torum and the senate? 
>'or this reason it is that 1 wear away my 
dav's in a total ajjplication to literary pur- 
suits: not indeed as entertaining- so vain 
a hope, that 1 may tlnd in them a com- 
plete cure for my misfortunes, but in or- 
<ler to obtain at least some little respite 
from tlieir bitter rcmcmlMaMce. 

If those dangers with which we were 
daily menaced, had not formerly pre- 
vented both vou and myself from re- 
flecting with that coolness we ought, we 
should never have been thus se|)arated. 
Hail that proved to liav« been the case, 
we should both of us have spared our- 
selves much tmeasiness; as I should not 
have indulged so many groundless Icars 
for your health, nor you for the conse- 
*]ueuces of mv grief. Let us repair 
then this unlucky mistake as well as we 
■mav: and as nothing can be more suit- 
able to both of us than the conipany <if 
each other, I purpose to be with you in 
•i few days. Karewcl. 

L E T T ]•. R I.XXVI. 

Tu Tiro. 

FA. V. 70S.] me, mv dear Tiro, I am 
greatly anxious for v<'Ur health: liow- 
pver, if you persevere in the same cau- 
tious regimen which you have hitherto 
observed, vou w ill si)o\i, I trust, be well. 
As tt» my library, 1 beg vou woidd put 
the books in order, and take a catalogue 
of them, when vour physician shall givo 
vou his consent: for it is bv his direc- 
tions you must now be governed. \\'\lh 
respect to the garden, I leave \ mi to 
adjust matters as you shall judge pio- 

1 thii\k you might come to Kome on 
tlie iirst of next mouth, in order to see the 
gladiatorial combats, and return the fol- 
lowing day : but let this be entirely as is 
most agreeable to vour own inclinations. 



In the mean time, if you have any af- 
lectiou lor ine, take care of your health, 

li:tYkr I.XXVI I. 

To the .same. 

[A. V. 7,.8.J 
iiv should you not direct youi'let- 
tcrs to me with the familiar super- 
scription which one friend gencraliy uses 
to another? However, if you are unwil- 
lin-'to hazard the envy which this privi- 
lege may draw upon you, be it as yoa 
think proper: though for my cnvn part, 
it is a maxim which I h i\e generally 
pursued with respect to myself, to treat 
envy with the utmost disregard. 

I rejoice-that vou fouiul so much bene- 
fit bv your sudorific: and should the air 
of Tusculum be attended with the same 
happy eliect, how inlinitcly will it in- 
crease ni}' fondness for that favourite 
scciiel If vou love me ihen (and if yoii 
do not, you are undonl)te<lly the most 
successful of all dissemblers), consecrate 
your whole time to the care of your 
health; which hitherto indeed your as- 
siduous attendance upon myself has but 
too inuch prevented You well know 
the rules which it ..« necessary you should 
observe for this purpose; and I need not 
tell you that your diet should be light, 
and your exercises moderate: that you 
should keep you body open and your 
mind amused. Be it your care, in short, 
to return to me perfectly recovered: and 
I shall ever afterwards not only love 
vou, but TuscuUini so tnuch the more 

I wish you could prevail with your 
neighbour to take my g.u-den ; a> it will 
be the most elK'ctual means of vexing 
that rascal (lelico. This fellow, althougli 
he |)aid a thousaufl sesterces'^' for the 
rent of a piece of cold barren ground, 
tiiat had not so much as a wall or a shed 
upon it, or was supplied with a single 
drop of water, has yet the assurance to 
laugh at the price 1 require for mine; 
notwithstanding all the money I have 
laid out upon tlie improvements. But let 
ir be your business to spirit the man into 
our terms ; as it shall be mine to make 
the same artful attack upon Otho. 

Let me know what you have done with 
respect to the fountain: though possibly 

* About SI. of our mortcy. 




r,ook r. 

this wot season may now have ovcrsuj)- 
plicd it with water. If the weathei" 
should prove fair, I will stnd the dial, to- 
gether with the bmiks j-ou desire. But 
how happened it that you took none with 
you? \\as it that you were empdoyed 
in some poetical composition upon tiie 
niodclof your admired Sophocles? It' so, 
I hope you will soon oblige the world 
with your performance. 

Ligurius, Citsar's great favourite, is 
dead. He was a very worthy man, and 
much my friend. Let n)e know when I 
may expect you: in the mean time be 
careful of vour health. I'arcwe!. 

To Matius, 

[A. r. ^os.] 

J KNOW not whether it is with greater 
-■• pain or pleasure, that I reflect on the 
visit which I lately received from our 
very good friend, the wcll-iiaturcd Tre- 
batius. He called upon me the next 
morning after my arrival at Tusculum : 
and as he was by no means sufhcietitly 
recovered from his late indisposition, I 
could not forbear reproving him for thus 
hazarding his healtii. He interrupted 
me with saving, that nothing was of 
more importance to him than the busi- 
ness which brought him to my house : 
and upon my inquiry if any thing new 
had occurred, he immediately entered 
into an J account of your complaints 
against me. But before I give them a 
particular answer, let me begin with a 
few previous reflections. 

Amongst all my acquaintance, I can- 
not recollect any man witii whom I have 
longer enjoyed a friendship, than with 
yourself: and although there are several 
fof whom my alfcction commenced as 
early, there are few for whom it has risen 
so high. The truth ol" it is, I conceived 
an esteem for you from the first nioment 
I saw vou: and I had reason to believe, 
that you thought of me in the same fa- 
vourable manner. But your long absence 
fromRonie,whichimmedi;itely succeeded 
our first ac(juaintance, together with that 
active course of life wherein I was en- 
gaged, and which was so entirely difie- 
rent from yours, did not at that time ad- 
mit of our improving this mutual dispo- 
sition by a more frequent intercourse, 
Nevertheless, even so long ago as when 

Cssar was in d'aul, and many years br- 
fore the commencement of the civil war, 
1 exjierieneed vour friendly inclinations 
towards me. For as you imugiiied that 
mv union wi/h Ca*sar would be greatly 
advantageous on mv side, and not altoge- 
ther unserviceai)le on his; you gene- 
rously recommended me to his favour, 
and was the cause of his cultivating my 
friendship. I forbear to mention severrd 
instances which occurred at that period, 
of the unreserved manner in which wc 
both conversed and corresponded toge- 
ther, as thev are followed by otheis of 
a more important nature. At the of)en- 
ing of the civil war, when yoti were 
going to meet Caisar at Brundisium, you 
paid me a visit in my Formian villa, 
'J'liis single favour, had it been attended 
will) no other, was, at such a critical 
juncture, an ample testimony of yoin- af- 
fection. But can I ever forget the ge- 
nerous advice you so kindly gave meat 
the same time, and of which Trebatius, 
I remember, was himself a witness? Can 
I ever forget the letter you afterwards 
wrote to me, when you went to join 
Cajsar in the district, if I mistake not, of 
Trebula? It was soon after this, that 
either by gratitude, by honour, or per- 
haps by fate, I was determined to follow 
Pompey into Greece: and was there any 
instance of an obliging zeal, which you 
did not exert in mv absence both for me 
and for my family ? Was there any one, 
in short, whom either they or I had 
more reason to esteem our friend ? But I 
returned to Brundisium : and can I forget 
(let me ask once more) with what an ob- 
liging expedition you hastened, as soon 
as vou heard of mv arrival, to meet me 
at Tarentum? Mow friendly were your 
visits! how kind your endeavours to 
reason me out of that dejection into 
which the dread of our general calamities 
had sunk me! At length, however, I 
returned to Rome; where every proof 
of the greatest intimacy, and upon occa- 
sions too of the most important kind, mu- 
tually passed between us. It was by 
your directions and advice, that I learned 
to regulate my conduct Mith respect to 
Caesar; and as to other instances of your 
friendship, where was the man, except 
Caesar himself, at whose house you more 
frequently visited, or upon whom you 
bestowed so many agreeable hours of 
your conversation? in some of which, 
you may remember, it was that you en^. 


Sect. I. 

C I C F, R O. 

couragcil me to cnj^nge in my philoso- 
phical V. ritiiigs. When Cajsar ufterwaids 
returned from conipK-ting \m victories, 
it was vour first and priuc ipal tridcavoiir 
to establish mc again in liis frimdship: 
and it was an endeavour in which you 
perfectly well succeeded. But to what 
purpose, you will ask, perliaps, this long 
detail? Longer indeed I must acknow- 
ledge it is than I was myself aware : 
however, the use I would make of these 
several circumstances is, to shew you how 
much reason I have to be surprised, that 
you who well know the truth of them, 
should believe mecapableofhavingacted 
incoHsistently with such powerful ties. 
But besides these motives of my attach- 
ment to you, motives known and visible 
to the whole world, there are others of a 
far less conspicuous kind; and which I 
am at a loss to represent in the terms they 
deserve. i:lverv part indeed of your cha- 
racter! admire ; but when I consider you 
as the wise, the firm, and the faithful 
friend; as the polite, the witty, and the 
learned companion; these, I confess, are 
the striking points amidst your many o- 
ther illustrious qualifications, with which 
I am particularly charmed. But it is 
time to return to the complaints you have 
alleged against me. Be assured then, I 
never once credited the report of your 
having voted for the law you mentioned 
to Trebatius: and indeed if I had, I 
should have been well persuaded that you 
were induced to concur in promoting it, 
upon some very just and rational motive. 
But as the dignity of your character 
draws upon you the observation of all the 
world; the malevolence of mankind will 
sometimes give severer constructions to 
your actions than most certainly they 
merit. If no instances of this kind have 
ever reached your knowledge, I know 
not in what manner to proceed in my 
justification. Believe me, however, I 
have always defended you upon these oc- 
casions with the same warmth and spirit 
with which I am sensible you are wont to 
oppose, on your part, the calumnies that 
are thrown out upon myself. 'I'hus with 
regard to the law I ju»t now mcntioiied, 
I have always peremptorily denied the 
truth of tlie charge: and fis to your 
having been one of the managers of the 
late games, I have constantly insisted, 
that you acted agreeably to those pious 
ofiiices that are due to the memory of a 
departed friend, in respect to ihc latter. 

however, you cannot be Ignorant, that if 
C.'ajsar was really a tyrant (as 1 think he 
was), your zeal may be considered in two 
very clitlerent views. It may be said 
(and it is an argument which 1 never fail 
to urge in your favour) that you shewed 
a very commewdable fidelity in thus dis- 
playing your allection to a departed 
friend. On the other hand, it may be 
alleged (and in fact it is alleged) that the 
liberties of our country ought to be far 
preferable even to the life itself of those 
whom we hold most dear. I wish you 
had been informed of the part I have 
always taken whenever this question has 
been started. But there are two circum- 
stances that reflect the brightest lustre 
upon your character, and which none of 
your friends more frequently or more 
warmly commemorate than myself; I 
mean your having always most strongly 
recommended pacific measures to Caesar, 
and constantly advised him to use his 
victory with moderation; in both which 
the whole world is agreed with me in 
acknowledging your merit. 

I think myself much obliged to our 
friend Trebatius, for having given me 
this occasion of justifying myself before 
you. And you will credit the professions 
I have here made, unless you imagine me 
void of every spark both of gratitude 
and generosity; an opinion than which 
nothing can be more injurious to mv 
sentiments, or more unworthy ot your». 


Matins to Cicero. 

[A. U. 709.] 

I RECEIVED great satisfaction from your 
letter, as it assured me of my holding 
that rank in your esteem which I have 
ever wished and hoped to enjoy. Lideed 
I never doubted of your good opinion; 
but the value I set upon it, rendered me 
solicitous of preserving it without the 
least blemish. Con.scious, however, that 
I had never given just oflence to any 
candid and honest mind, I was the less 
disposed to believe that you, whose senti- 
nieiiisare exaheJ by the cultivation of so 
many generous arts, could hastily credit 
any reports to my disadvantage; espfe- 
cially as you vvere one for whom I had at 
all tiiiies discovered iiiuch sincere good 
will. But as I have tiie [deasure to find 
that you thir.k of me agreeably to my 
£ i ' %vishe*v 


E L i: c; A X T i: p i s t l !• s. 

noolc I. 

ivishes, I will ilrnp this snlijict, in onler 
to vimlicMtc niv^cU' tVoni thosi' cakiniiti. s 
which voij havi- so oFreii, iiiid \vitli such 
sinviiiar j^ciierosity, opposed. I am pii- 
fectly ^\ell :ippiiseilorthc; roflcctionsthiit 
have bcfii cast upon me since (.'.xsni's 
death. It has been imputed to mc, I 
know, that I lanuMit the loss ofmv friend, 
and think with iiuiiLTiiatidn on the mur- 
derers of the man I loved. " The wel- 
fare ot" our country," say inv acL users 
(as if they had already' made it appear, 
that the dr'struction of Cii'sir was lor the 
benefit of the tommonweidsh), " the 
" Wflfare of our country is to be pre- 
" ferred to all considerations of aniitv.' 
It may be so ; but I will honcstiv confess, 
that I am by no means arrived at this 
eitvatcd strain of patriotism. Nevcrlhe- 
less, I took lu) part with Caesar in our 
civil dissensions; but iieitlierdid 1 desert 
iny friend, because 1 disliked his mea- 
sures, 'i he truth is, I was so far from 
approvint? the civil war, that 1 always 
thought it unjustifiable, and exerted my 
utmost endeavours to extin<ruish those 
sparks by which it was kindled. In con- 
formity to these sentiments, I did i\ot 
make use of my friend's victory to the 
pnitification of any lucrative or ambi- 
tious purposes of niv own, as some 
others most shamefully did, whose inte- 
rest with Caesar was much inferior to 
mine. lar, in truth, from being a gainer 
by his success, i sufiered greatly in my 
fortunes by that very law which saved 
many of those wiio no-.v exult in his 
death, from the disgrace of being obliged 
to fly their country '•. Let mo add, that I 
recommended the vanquished party to his 
clemency, with the same warmth and 
zeal, as if my own preservation had been 
concerned. Thus desirous tliat all my 
fellow citizens might enjoy their lives in 
full security, can 1 repress the indigna- 
tion of my heart against the assas^ii^s of 
that man, from wiiose generosity this 
privilege was obtained ; especially, as the 
same hands were lilted up to his destruc- 
tion, which had first drawn upon him 
all the odium and envy of his administra- 
tion ? Yet I am threatened, it seems, with 
their vengeance for daring to condenm 
the deed. L'uexampled insolence ! that 


* Tlic law alluded to, is probaMy tJiat whicli 
Cxsar eij.icttd for thn reVwi of those who had 
contracted dcbti botort tlir comintnceHiciit ol 
the rlvil war. 

soujc should glorv in the perpetration of 
those crimes, which others sliou'd not be 
permitted cve\i to deplore I The meanest 
slave has ever been allowed to indulge, 
without controni, tiie fears, the sorrows, 
or the joys of his heart; but these our 
assertors of lihrrfif, as the v call themsel vcs, 
endeavour to extort from me, by their 
menaces, this common privilege of every 
creature. Vain and impotent endeavours ! 
no dangers shr.ll intimidate me from act* 
ing up to the generous duties of friend- 
ship and hmnanitv: persuaded as I have 
ever h^en, that death in an honest cause 
ought itever lobe shunned, and frequent- 
ly to be courted. Yet why does it thus 
move their displeasure, if I oidy wish 
that they -may repent of what fhey have 
perpe! rated r for wish I w ill acknow- 
ledge I do, that both they and all the 
world may regret the death of Ciesar. 
" But as a member," say the}', " of the 
" commonwealth, yon ought above all 
" things to tlesire its preservation.'' 
Now that I sincerely do so, if the whole 
tenour of my past conduct, and all the 
hopes I can reasonaldv be supposed to 
entertain, will not sufliciently evince ; 1 
shall not attenq)t to prove it by uiy pro- 
tesslons. I conjure vou then to judge of 
me, noi bv what others may say, but bv 
the plain tendency of inv actions: and if 
you believe I have any interest in the 
tranquiilitv of the republic, be assured 
that 1 will have no connnunication with 
those who would inq)iouslv disturb its 
peace. Shall I renounce indeed thos«^ 
patriot principles I steadily pursued in rnv 
youth, when warmth and inexperience 
might have pleaded some excuse for er- 
rors r Shall 1, in the sober season of de- 
clining age, wantonly unravel at once 
the w hole fair contexture of my better 
day^? Most assuredly not: nor shall I ever 
give any other oiience than in bewailing 
the severe catastrophe of a most intimate 
and illustrious triend I Were I disposed to 
act otherwise, 1 should scorn to deny it; 
nor should it be ever said, that I covered 
my crimes by hypocrisy, and feared to 
avow what I scrujded not to commit. 

IjUt to proceed to the other articles of 
the charge against me : it is farther al- 
leged, that 1 presided at those games 
which the young Octavius exhibited in 
honour of Caisar's victories. The charge, 
I confess, is true; but what connection 
has an act of mere private duty with the 
ci;nccrns ol the rejiublic ? it was an uflict 


Sici. r. 

C I C E R (). 


not onlv due from nie to the nicmory of 
ti»y departed fVieud, but wliich I could 
ool refuse to that illiwtrlous youth, his 
most worthy heir. I am reproathetl al^o 
with haviii<r heeii fre'|uent in payiiic;my 
visits of coinpliineiitto Antony: yet you 
will find that the very men who impute 
this as a mark of diKiilection ti> my coun- 
try, appeareil much more frecjuently at 
his levee, either to solicit liis favours, or 
to receive them. Ijut after all, can there 
beany thing, let lue ask, tiiore insuHer- 
ably arrogant than this accusation ? Caesar 
never opposed my associating with whom- 
soever J thought |)r<)|)er, even though it 
were with persons whom he iiimself dis- 
approved. And shall the men who have 
cruelly robbeil me of one frientl, attempt 
likewise, by their malicious insinuations, 
to alienate me from another? JJutliie 
moderation of my coiidnct will, 1 doubt 
not, discredit all reports that may here- 
after be raise<l to my disadvantage; and 
I am persuaded that even those who hate 
me for my attachment to Ca-s^ir, would 
rather choose a friend of inv disposition 
than of their own. In line, if my allairs 
should permit me, it is my resolution to 
spend the rcnuiindcr of my days at 
Rhodes. But if any accident should ren- 
der it necessary for me to continue at 
Rome, my actions shall evince, that I 
am sincerely »lesirous of my country's 
"welfare. In the mean time, I am much 
obliged to Trebatius for supplying 30U 
with an occasion of so freely laying open 
to me the amicable sentiments of your 
heart; as it aflbrds me an additional rea- 
son for cultivating a iViendship with one 
whom I have ev*r been disposed to es- 
teem. Fare « el. 


Cicero the Son"^', to his dearest Tiro. 

[A. U. 70J.] 
A FTF.R having been in daily and earnest 
•^ expectation of your couriers, they 
are at length, to my great satisfaction, 
arrived; having performed their voyasje 
in forty -six days from fhe time they left 
Vou. The joy I received from my dear 
lather's most afreet ionate letter, was 
crowned by the very agreeable one 

*IIc was at tliis time pursuing his s'.uJie? at 
Atheii-i uiidi-i- ttie dircctiyti of Cr:itip])us, one of 
the nio-Jt celL'bratKJ phiJosophtrs ot ti;c peripa- 
tetic s<'Ct. 

which attended it from yourself. I can 
no longer repent therefore of having 
neglected writing to you ; as it has proved 
a mean of furnishing me with an ample 
proof of your good nature : and it is 
with much pleasure I find that you ad- 
mit the apology I made for my silence. 

That the advantageous reports you 
have heard of my conduct, were perfect- 
ly agreeable, my dearest Tiro, to your 
wishes, 1 can by no means doubt ; and it 
shall bemy constant endeavourtoconflrni 
and increase the general good opinion 
which is thus arising in mv favour. You 
may venture therefore with great confi- 
dence to be, what you obligingly pro* 
misc, the herald of my fame. Indeed, I 
reflect with so much pain and contritioti 
of mind on the errors into which my 
youth and inex|)erience liave betrayed 
me, that I not only look upon thejn with 
abhorrence, but cannot bear even to hear 
them mentioned; and I am well con- 
vinced that you take a part in the uneasi- 
ness which 1 sutler from this circum- 
stance. It is no wonder you should be 
solicitous for the welfare of a person, 
whom both interest and inclination re- 
commend to your good wishes : as I have 
ever been desirous you should partake of 
all the advantages that attend me. But 
if my conduct has formerly given you 
])ain, it shall henceforward, be assured, 
uli!)rd you reason to think of me with 
double satisfaction. 

I live with Cratippus rather as his son 
than his pupi! ; and not only attend hi? 
lectures with pleasure, but am extremely 
delighted with the peculiar sweetness of 
his conversation. Accordingly I spend 
whole days in h:.i compan)', and fre- 
(juently, indeed, the most part of the 
night ; as I intreat him to sup w ith me as 
ol'ren as his engagements will permit. 
Since the introduciion of this custom, he 
every now and then unexpectedly steals 
in Ujjon us while we are at table; and 
laying aside the severity of the philoso- 
pner, enters with great good humour 
into ali the mirth and pleasantry of our 
conversation. Let me request you then 
to lipsteii hither as soon as possible, in 
order to enjoy with us the society of thia 
most agreeable and excellent rn 'rt. .As 
toBiuitius, 1 never sutilr him to oe absent 
from me a smgle jiomeut. tlis company 
is as enter:-i;,i4jg a? his coLiduct is ex- 
emplary; ''.d he perfectly well knows 
how to reconcile mirih and g')od humour 

E 4 with 


!■ L i: C, A N T i: I' 1 s r L E S- 

r,ook I. 

\%ith the serious d requisitions of pluloso- 
pln'. I have takrn a house tor him near 
mine; and assist his narrow fortuiu's as 
far as my sleniier finances will admit ■. 
I have bcpun to declaim in (ireei< un- 
der Cas«ius; as I choose to employ my- 
self in Latin exercises of tluit kind with 
Brutii'is. 1 live in great fnmilinritv also 
•with those learned and approved friends 
of Oatipiius, whom he brourjhtwith him 
from Mitylene; and pass much of my 
time likewise with Kpicrates, one of the 
most considerable persons in Athens, to- 
gether with Leon ides, and several others 
of the same rank and merit. Thus I 
have given vou a general sketch of mv 

As to what you mention concerning 
Georgias, notwithstanding that he wasuf 
senice to me in my oratorical exercises, 
yet my father's commands were superior 
to all other considerations; and as he 
peremptorily wrote to me that I should 
immediately dismiss him t, 1 have obeyed 
his injunctions. I would not suffer my- 
self indeed to hesitate a moment, lest my 
reluctance should raise any suspicions in 
my father to my disadvantage. Besides, 
I thought it would ill become me to take 
upon myself to be a judge of the pro- 
priety of his orders. I am extremely 
obliged to you, however, for the friendly 
advice you give me in this affair. 

I very readily admit the excuse 5-ou 
make on account of vour want of leisure, 
perfectly well knowing how much your 
time is generally engaged. I am ex- 
tremely glad to hear that yon have bought 
a fann; and wish you much jov of the 
purchase. But you must not wonder that 
I deferred my congratulations to this 
part of my letter; for you will remend:)er 
it was about the same place in yours that 
you communicated tome the occasion of 
them. Y ou have now a retreat from all 

*Tbe allowance which Cicero mafleto his son 
during his residence at Athens, was ahout 7001. 
a year. 

f This unworthy tutor had cncoHraged his 
pupil in a passion fordrinking; a vice in which 
the young Cicero, how sincere soever he might 
have been in his present resolves, most shame- 
fully signalized himicif in his more mature yearn. 

the fatiguing ceremonies of the city, and 
are become a Roman of the true oKl rurftl 
kind ;j;. I take phasure in hguring you 
to myself in the midst of vour country 
cniployments, buying your tools of hus- 
bandry, dealing out your orders to your 
bailiff, and carefully treasuring up the 
fiuit-sceds from vour dej^ert. To be se- 
rious: I sincerely join with you in re- 
gretting, that I could not be of service to 
you upon this occasion. But be assured, 
my dear Tiro, I shall not fail to assist 
you, if ever fortune should put it in rny 
power; especially as I am sensible you 
made this purchase with a view to my 
use as well as your own. 

I am obliged to your care in executing 
my commission. I desire you would se© 
that I have a writer sent to me who un- 
derstands Greek ; as I lose much time in 
transcribing mj' lectures. But above all, 
I intreat you to take care of your health, 
that we may have the pleasure of enjo}**- 
ing together many philosophical conver- 
sations. I reconnnend Antherus to your 
good offices, and bid you farewel. 


Cicero the Son to Tiro. 

[A. U. 709.] 
rpHK reasons you assign for the inter- 
-■- mission of vour letters are perfectly 
just: but I hope that these excuses will 
not very frecjuently recur. 'Tis true, I 
receive intelligence of public affairs from 
particular expresses, as well as from ge- 
neral report; and am continually assured 
likewise of my father's affection, by his 
own hand ; yet I always take great plea- 
sure in reading a letter from yourself, be 
it upon ever so trifling a subject. I hope, 
therefore, since I am thus earnestly desi- 
rous of hearing from you, that you will 
not for the future send me apologies in- 
stead of epistles. Farewel. 

+ Alluding, perhaps, to those celebrated Ro- 
mans in till- earlier ages of the republic, wh» 
after having been called forth from their farms 
to the service of their country, discharged with 
glory the functions of the state, and then re- 
turned to their ploughs. 

( 57 ) 




From the Letters of PLINY the Consul *, to several of his Friends, 
as transUited by William Melmoth, Esq. 

To Canin:'us Rufus. 

HO W stands Coniuni f, that fa- 
vourite scene of yours and mine ? 
^V'b•lt becomes of the pleasant villa, the 
vernal portico, the shady planetree-walk, 
the crystal canal so agreeably winding 

* Pliny was born in the reign of Nero, about 
the eight hundred and fifteenth year of Rome, 
and tlie sixty-second of the Christian asra. As to 
the time of his death, antiquity has given us no 
information : but it is conjectured that lie died 
either a little before, or soon after that exctUcnt 
Prince, his admired Trajan ; that is, about the 
year of Christ one hundred and sixteen. 

The elegance of this author's manner adds 
force to the most interesting, at the same time 
that it enlivens the most common subjects. But 
the polite and spirited turn of these letters, is by 
MO means tl)cir principal recommendation : thej' 
receive a much higher value, as they exhibit one 
•f the most amiable and animating characters in 
all antiquity. Pliny's whole life seems to have 
been employed in the exercise of every generous 
aud social affection. To forward modest merit, 
to encourage ingenious talents, to vindicate op- 
pressed innocence, are some of the glorious pur- 
poses to which he devoted his power, his foi'tune, 
and his abilities. But how does he rise in our 
•steem and admiration, when we see him exer- 
•isinij (with a grace that discovers his humanity 
as well as his politeness) the noblest acts both of 
public and private munificence, not so much 
from the abundance of his wealth, as the wisdom 
of his CEConomy' 

f The city where I'liny was born : it still sub- 
sists, and is now called Como, situated upon the 
lake Larius, or Lazg di Como, in tiie duchy of 

along its flowery banks, together with 
the charming laket be'ow, that serves 
at once the purposes of use and beauty? 
What have you to tell me of the firm yet 
soft gestatio §, the sunny bath, the pub- 
lic saloon, the private dining-room, and 
all the elegant apartments for repose both 
at noon and night jj .' Do these enjoy m j 
friend, and divide his time with pleasing 
vicissitude t Or do the aflairs of the 
world, as usual, call you frequently out 
from this agreeable retreat ? If the scene 
of your enjoyment lies wholly there, you 
are happy; if not, you are under the 
common error of mankind. But leave, 
my friend (for certainly it is high 
time), the sordid pursuits of life to others, 
and devote yourself, in this calm and 
undisturbed recess, entirely to pleasures 
of the -Studious kind. Let these em- 
ploy your idle as well as serious hours; 
let them be at once your business and 
your amusement, the subjects of your 
waking and even sleeping thoughts: 
produce something that shall be reailr 
and for ever your own. All your other 
possessions will pass on from one master 
to another : this alone, when once it is 

J The lake Larius, upon the banks of which 
this villa was situated. 

§ A piece of ground set apart for the purpose 
of exercise, either on horseback, or in their ve- 
hicles; it was generally contiguous to their gar- 
dens, and laid out in the form of a Circus. 

II It was cuctomary among the Romans to 
sleep in the middle of the day, and they had 
apartments for that pu;po«e distinct from their 



E L E G A N T E P I S T L E S. 

l5ook I. 

yours, will for ever be so. As I well 
know the temper anrl genius of him to 
^hom I am adtlressing myself, I must 
exhort you to think as well of your 
abilities as they deserve: do justice to 
those excellent talents you possess, and 
the world, believe uie, will certainly do 
50 too. 1 arewel. 

L E T T E R II. 

To Pu»ij>eia Cehrina. 

"VTov might perceive by mj* last short 
-*■ letter, I had no occasion of yours to 
inform me of the various convcniencies 
you enjoy at your several villas. The 
elegant accommodations which are to be 
found at Narnia *, Ucriculum f. Car- 
sola 1, Perusia §, particularly the pretty 
bath at Xarnia, I am extremely well ac- 
quainted with. Tlie truth is, I have a 
properly in every thing which belongs to 
you; and I know of no other dilference 
between your house and my own, than 
that I am more carefully attended in the 
former than the latter. You mav, per- 
haps, have occasion to rnakc the same 
observation in your turn, whenever you 
shall give me your company here; which 
I wish for, not only that you may par- 
take <A' mine with the same ease and free- 
dom that I do of yours, but to awaken 
the industry of my domestics, who are 
grown something careless in their attend- 
ance upon me. A long course of mild 
treatment it apt to wear out the impres- 
sions of awe in servants; whereas new 
faces quicken their diligence, as they are 
generally more inclined to please their 
master by attention to his guest, than to 
himself. 1- arewel. 

L E T T !• R III. 

To Corndiw! Tacitus. 

CtHTAiNLY you will laugh (and laugh 
you may) when I tell 30U that your 
old acquaintance is turned sportsman, 
and has taken three noble boars. What ! 
(methinks 1 hear you say with astonish- 
luent) Pliny! — I'ken lie. However, I 
indulged at the same time my beloved 

* Now called Narni, a city in Onobria, in the 
ducLy of Spoteto. 

f Otiicoli, in the same duchy, 
% Car<sola, in the same ducLy. 
^ i'cru^ia, iu Tuscany. 

inactivity, and while I sat at iny nets, 
you would have found me, not with my 
spear, but my ppu bv my side. 1 mused 
and wrote, being resolved if I returned 
witli my hands empty, at hast to come 
home with my papers full. Believe 
me, this manner of studying is not to be 
despised : you cannot conceive how 
greativ exercise contributes to enliven 
the imagination. There is, besides, 
something in the solemnity of the vene- 
rable woods with which one is sur- 
rounded, togetlier with that awful si- 
lence 'j which is observed on these oc- 
casions, that strongly inclines the mind 
to meditation. For the future, therefore, 
let me advise you, whenever you hunt, to 
take along w ith von your pen and paper, 
as well as your basket and bottle ; for be 
assured you will find ^Minerva a> fond of 
traversing the hills as Diana. Earewel. 


To Mimttius Fundunus. 


-HEN one considers how the time 
passes at Rome, one cannot but 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 ap- 
pear quite otherwise. Ask any one how 
he has been employed to-day ? he will 
tell you, perhaps, " I liavo been at the 
" ceremony of taking up the manly robe^; 
" this friend invited me to a wedding; 
" that desired me to attend the hearing 
" of his cause : one begged me to be wit- 
" ness to his will ; another called me to 
" consultation." These are offices whicii 
seem, while one is engaged in them, ex- 
tremely necessary ; and yet when, in 
the quiet of some retirement, we look 
back upon the many hours thus employed, 

II By tlif rirrmnstance of silence here mcn- 
tiijiicd, as well as by the wiiolc air otthi-^ letter, 
it is plain the lnuitin^ here iccommended was of a 
very different kind from what is practised amongst 
us. It is probable the wild boars weie allured 
into thinr nets by some kind of prey, with whicli 
they were baiteii, while tiie sportsman w-atchcd 
at a distance in silence and coaceaiinent. 

^f The. ftonian youths at the age of scvcntcci* 
cliangcd their habit, and look up the tvna vtrilh, 
or manly Kown, upon which occasion ihey Wf-re 
conducted by the friemls of the falnily with 
great ceremony either into the Forujn or (Capitol, 
and there invested with this new robe. 


Sect. II. 

P L I N Y. 


y\e cannot but contlemn thom as solpinn 
impertinences. At such a season one is 
apt to reflect. Flow imicl) of tny lite ii is 
been lost in tritles ! At least it is a re- 
flection which fVc<|iuntly comes across 
nie at I.anrentmn, atVcr I have been em- 
ploying mvselt' ill niv studies, or even 
in the necessary care ot" the animal ma- 
chine (lor the liodv must be repaired 
and supported, if we would preserve the 
mind in all its vigour), in tliat pcare- 
tul retreat, I iieiiher hear nor spoak any 
tliiuif of which i have occasion to repent. 
I sulllr none to repeat to me the whi-^pcrs 
of malice; nor do I censure anv man, 
unless luvsclf, when I am dissatished 
with mvcompn>;itious. There 1 live un- 
•listurhed bv rumour, and free trom the 
anxious soliciludis of hope or fear, con- 
versing only w ith my^^Rlf ii'id my books. 
True ;uid ccnuinelife! pleasing anil ho- 
nourable repose ! More, perhaps, to be 
desired than the noblest ouiplovments I 
Thou solemn sea and solitary shore, best 
and must retired scene for contemplation, 
with how many noble thoughts have vou 
inspired me! Snatch then, my friend, as 
I have, the first occasion of leaving the 
noisy town with all its very empty pur- 
suits, and devote your days to studv, or 
even resign them to ease ; for as my in- 
genious friend Attilius pleasantly said, 
" It is better to do nothing, than to be 
" duin^ of 7iot!uiii^." i'arewel. 

li:tter v. 

To Alrius Clemeni. 


F ever polite literature flourished at 
Rome, it certainly does now, of which 
I could give vou manv eminent in- 
stances; 1 will content myself however 
^vifh naming onlv Euphrates the philo- 
sopher. 1 first made acijuaintance with 
this excellent person in mv youth, when 
1 served in the army in Syria. I had an 
ojiportunity of conversing with him fa- 
miliarly, and took some pains to gain his 
aOlction : though that indeed was no- 
thing dillitult, for he is exceedlnglv open 
to access, and full of that humanity 
which he professes. I should think my- 
self extremely happy if I had as much 
unswere',1 the expectations he at that time 
conceived of nie, as he exceeds every 
thing that I had imagined of him. But 
perhaps I admire liu cxccllsncics more 

now than I did then, because 1 un- 
derstand them better; if I can with 
truth say I understand th^-'m yet. For 
as none but those who are skilled in 
painting, statuary, or the plastic art, can 
form a right judg'-ment of any pertbrin- 
aiice in those sci'-nces ; .so a man must 
himself have made great advances in 
learning, before he is capable of formings 
a just notion of the learned. However, 
as far as I am (|u;dilied to determine, 
Kuphrates is possessed of so many shining 
talents, that he cannot fail to strike the 
most injudicious observer. He reasons 
with much force, penetration, and ele- 
gance, and frequently launches out into 
all the sublime and luxuriant eloiiuence 
of Plato. His style is rich and flowing, 
and at the same time so wonderfully 
sweet that with a jjlcasing violence he 
forces the attention of the most unw illing 
hearer. His outward appearance is 
agreeable to all the rest; he luis a good 
shape, a comely aspect, long hair, and 
alarge%vhite beard; circumstances which, 
though they may probably be thought 
trifling and accidental, contribute how- 
ever to gain him much reverence. There 
is no afiected negligence in his habit j 
his countenance is grave, but not austere; 
and his approach commands respect 
without creating awe. Distinguished as 
he is by the sanctity of his manners, he 
is no less so by his polite and afliiblc ad- 
dress. He points his eloquence against 
the vices, not the persons of mankind, 
and without chastising reclaims the 
yvanderer. His exhortations so captivate 
your allention, that you hang as it were 
upon his lips; and even after the heart 
is convinced, the car still wishes to listen 
to the harmonious rcasoner. Ilisfamilr 
consists of three children (two of -which 
are sons), whom he educates with the 
utmost care. His father-in-law Pompeius 
Juliauus, as he greatly distinguished him- 
self in every other part of his life, so 
particularly in this, that though he was 
himself of the high.est rank in his pro- 
vince, yet among many considerable com- 
petitors foi" his daughters, he preferred 
I'.uphrates, as first in merit, th(jugh not 
in dignity. Bui to dwell any longer 
upon the virtues of a man, whose con- 
versation I am so unfortunate as not to 
have leisure to enjov, w hat would it avail 
but to increase my uneasiness that I tan- 
not enjoy it ? Mv time is wholly taken 
up ill the execution of a very honourable, 



Book I. 

jipoii as the proper tribute to vircjin in- 
nocence. 1 an» (lonbtful whetherl shouUI 
acid, tliat his lather is ver\- rich. When 
1 consider the character ot" those v lin re- 
quire a hu-iband ofniv chiM)sinir, I know 
it is nnneie><bnrv to mention ueahh; but 
when 1 rertect upon the prevailini^ nian- 
ners of the agi-, and even the laws ot* 
Rome, nhich rank a man accordin;^ to 
his po>-<essions, it certainly chiinis some 
notice : and indceil in establislunents of 
this nature, where chihiren and manv 
otijer circumstance-; are to be considered, 
it is an article that well deserves to-be 
taken into the account. You will be in- 
clined perhaps to suspect, that aH'ection 
Jias had too irreat a share in the character 
I h;!ve been drawinfr, and that I have 
heightened it beyoncj the truth. But I 
^^ill stake all my credit, yon will tind 
every thing far bevond what I have re- 
presented. 1 confess, indeed, I love Mi- 
mitius (as he justly deserves), with all 
the warmth of the most ardent aflf^rtion ; 
but for that very reason I would not 
ascribe more to his merit, than I know it 
will support. Furewcl. 


To Septilius Clarus. 

ow happened it, my friend, that 
you did not keep your engagement 
the other night to sup with me r ftut 
take notice, justice is to be had, and I 
expect you shall fully reimburse me the 
expense I was at to treat you ; which, 
let me tell you, was no small sum. I 
had prepared, you must know, a lettuce 
a-piecc, three snails *, two eggs, and a 
barley cake, with some sweet wine and 
snov,- f ; the snow most certainly I shall 


* A dish of .-nails was very common at a Ro- 
man talde. The manner u-ed to fatten thuni is 
rclatefl by some very grave authors of antiquity ; 
and Pli;iy the elder mentions one Fuliu:; Iljr- 
pinus uho had studied that art witii so much 
success, that the shells of some of his snails would 
contain about ten quarrs. In some parts of 
Switzerland this fuod is still in high r. pute. 

-f- The Romans used snow not only to cool 
freir liquors, but their stomachs, after having in- 
flarr.eil theniselvts with iiigh eating: This cus- 
lou still prevails in Italy, especially in Naples, 
■wiiorc they drink verj- few liquors, not so much 
as water, that have not lain iu fresco, and e\ery 
ii'idy from the hiarhcst to the lowest makes usf; of 
« : in-^omucJi th it a scircitv of snow would rai?e 

charge to your account, as a rarity that 
will not keep. Desidesall these curious 
dishes, there were olives of Andalusia, 
gourds, shalols, and a hundred other 
dainties equally sumptuous. You should 
Iike<.vise hnvt bcenentertainedcitherwitli 
an interlude, the rehearsal of a poem, or 
a piece of music, as you likerl best ; or 
(such was my liberality) with all three. 
But tlie bixurtnis delicacies J and Spa- 
nish danceiN of a certain I know 

not who, Avure, it seems, more to your 
ta<te. liovover, I shall have my revenge 
of yon, il"ppiid upon it ; — in what man- 
ner, shall be at present a secret. In gooil 
truth it wasnot kind, thus to mortify your 
friend, I had almost said yourself; — ami 
tipon seiond thoughts I do sa}- so: for 
how agreeably should we iiave spent the 
evening, in laughing, trifling, and deep 
speculation ! You may sup, I confess, 
at many places more splendidly ; but you 
can be treated no where, believe me, 
with more unconstrained cheerfulness, 
simplicity, and freedom : only make the 
experiment; and if you do n«t ever 
afterwards prefer my table to any other, 
never favour me with your company 
again. Farewel. 



To Eriicius. 

CONCEIVED an affection for my friend 
Pompeius Saturnius, and admired his 
genius, even long before I knew the ex- 
tensive variety of his talents; but he 
has now taken full and unreserved pos- 
session of my whole heart. I have heard 
him in the unpremeditated, as well as 
studied speech, plead with no less warmth 
and energy, than grace and eloquence. 
He abounds with just reflections; his 
periods are graceful and majestic; his 
words harmonious, and stamped with 

a mutiny at Naples, as nmch as a dearth of corn 
or provisions in another ci-untry. 

;J: In the original tin; dishes are specified, viz. 
Oy.-.tcrs, tlie matrices of sows, and a certain sea 
shell-lish, prickly like a hedge-hog, callcfl F.clii- 
ntis, all in the hicjiicst estimation ainon;; the 
Roman admirers of table-luxui-y ; as appears by 
numberless passai?e-s in the classic writers. Our 
own country had the honour to furnish them 
With oysterh, which they fetched from Sand- 
wich : Montanus, mentioned by Juvenal, wass« 
W(;il skilled in the science of Rood catins:, tiiathc 
Could tell by the fir^t taste whether th;y came 
from thence or oot. 


Sect. II. 

P L I N Y 


tlif authority of gciuiuic antitjuity. These 
iHiitcd (Qualities iiifiniti;ly tleligiit v<>ii, not 
oiilv wlicn vou are carr'unl aloii^, if I 
inav so say. witli tiuMX'sistless flow of his 
charming aii'l er.i|)hatical elocution; but 
wht^ii coiisicicreil distinct and apart from 
rhc advantui^f. I am persuadod you will 
le of tills opinion when yon peruse his 
rations, and Nvill not liesitr.te to place 
:)im in the same rank with the ancients, 
Avhoin he so iu'.|)pi!v imitaics. l»nt you 
will view him with still hi<,'lier pleasure 
in tiiccharacterof an liistorian, where his 
stvle is at once concise and clear, smooth 
.nd sublime; and the same enersjy <if 
expression, thon<^h with more closeness, 
runs through his harangues, which so 
eminently distinguishes and adorns his 
pleadings. Ikit these are not all his ex- 
cellencies; lie has composed several 
jmetical pieces in the mamn r of my ta- 
vourite (^alvus and Catullus. What 
sirokes of wit, what sweetness of num- 
bers, what pointed satire, and what 
touches of the tender passion appear in 
ids verses I in the midst of which he 
sometimes designedly falls into an agree- 
able negligence in Ills metre, in imitation 
too of those admired poets. He read to 
Mie, the other day, some letters ^hich he 
assured me A\ere wrote by his wife. I 
fancied i was hearing IMautus or Terence 
in prose. If they are that lady's (as l^e 
positively afllrms),or liis own (which he 
absolutely den i<is), either way he deserves 
e(]ual applause ; whetlier ior writing so 
pt)litely himself, or thr having so liiglily 
improved and refined the genius of his 
wife whom he married voung and unin- 
;^tructed. His works are never out of my 
hands; and whetlier I sit down to write 
any thing myself, or to revise what I 
liave already wrote, or am in adispositiou 
to amuse myself, I constajitly take vip 
this agreeable author; and as often as I 
do so, he is still new. Let nie strongly 
rccoLMmemi liim to the same degree of 
intimacy with you; nor be it any pre- 
judice to his merit that he is a cotempo- 
rary writer. Ha<l he flourished in some 
distant age, not only his works, buttlie 
very pictures and statues of him, would 
have been passionately inquired after ; 
and shall we then, from a sort of satiety, 
and nietely because he is present among 
us, sufler his talents to languish and fade 
aw-ay unhonourcd and unadmircd ? It 
is surely a very perverse and envious dis- 
position, to look with indilibrtnce ujx>u 

a man worthy of the highest approbation 
for no other reason but because we have 
it ill our power to see him und to con- 
verse with him, and not only to give him 
our applause, hut to receive liiin into our 
friendship. Varewel. 

L !■: T r !•: r x. 

To CurncUiit Tacilns. 

T HAVE frequent del)a'»-s witli a learned 
and judicious |)ersoii of my acfpiaint- 
3nce, who admires nothing so inucli in 
the eloquf^nce of t'le bar as conciseness. 
1 agree with him, where the cdu-,e will 
admit ofthis manner, it may be jiroperlv 
euough pursued; but to insist, that to 
omit what is material to be njentioned, 
or only slightly to touch upon those 
points which should be strongly incul- 
cated, and urged hon»e to the minds of 
the audience, is in etfect to desert the 
cause one has undertaken. In many cases 
a copious nrinner of expression gives 
strength and weight toour ideas, whicli 
fiequently make impressions upon the 
luind, as iron does upon the solid bodies, 
rather by repeated strokes than a single 
blow. In answer to this he usually has " 
recourse to authorities; and produces 
Lysias amongst ttie (ireciaus, and Cato 
and the two Gracchi among our own 
countrymen, as instances in favour of 
the ef)ncise style. In return, 1 name 
Demosthenes, iEschyne.s, Hisperides, and 
many others, in opposition to Lysias ; 
wiiilc I confront Cato and the Gracciii. 
witli Ciesar, Pollio, Coelius,and above all 
Cicero, whose longest oration is generally 
esteemed the best. It is m good com- 
positions, as in every thing else that is 
valuable ; the more there is of them, the 
better. You ma\- observe in statues, 
basso-relievos, pictures, and the bodicsof 
men, and even in animals and trees, that 
nothing is more graceful than magnitude, 
if it is acconipanied witli proportion. 
The same holds true in pleading; aod 
even in books, a large volume carrier 
something of beauty and autliority in its 
ver^' size. IMy antagonist, who is ex- 
tremely dexterous at evading an argu- 
ment, eludes all this, and much more 
which 1 usually urge to the same purpose, 
by insisting that those very persons, upon 
whose works I found my opinion, made 
considerable additions to their orations 
when thev published them. This I 
ileny ; and appeal to the harangues of 


T»iimberle<5 orators; particular!}- to those 
of Cicero for Mureiiaaml Varcnus, where 
he seems to have given us little more than 
the general charge. Whence it appears, 
that many things which he enlarged 
upon at the time he delivered those ora- 
tions, were retrenched when he gave 
them to the public. The same excellent 
orator informs us, that, agreeably to the 
ancient custom which allowed oidy one 
counsel on a side, Clueiitius had no other 
advocate but himself; and tells us far- 
ther, that he em|)loyed four whole days 
in defence of Cornel ius: by wliichit 
plainly appcarsthat those orations which, 
when delivered at their fidl length, had 
necessarily taken up so much time at the 
bar, were greatly altered and abridged 
■when he afterwards comprised thtni iu 
a single voUnne, though I must confess, 
indeed, a large one. But it is objected, 
there is a great difl'crence between good 
pleading and just composition. This 
opinion, I acknowledge, has some fa- 
vourers, and it may be true ; neverthe- 
less I am persuaded (though I may per- 
haps be mistaken), that, as it is possible 
a pleading may be well received by the 
audience, which has not merit enough to 
recommend it to the reader, so a good 
oration cannot be a bad pleading: for 
the oration upon paper is, in truth, the 
original and model of the speech that is 
to be pronounced. It is for this reason 
ive find in many of the best orations ex- 
tant, numberless expressions which have 
the air of un|)remeditatcd discourse; and 
this even where we are sure they were 
never spoken at all : as for instance in 
the following passage from the oration 
against Verres, — "A certain mechanic 
•' — what's his name? Oh, I am obliged 
"to you for helping me to it: yes, I 
"mean Polycletus." It cannot th^ 
be denied, that the nearer approach a 
speaker makes to the rules of just compo- 
sition, the more perfect he will be in his 
art; always supposing, however, that he 
has the necessary indulgence in point of 
time; for if he be abridged of that, no 
imputation can justly be fixed upon ihe 
advocate, though certainly a very great 
one is chargeable upon the judge. The 
sense of the law is, I am sure, on my 
side, which are by no means sparing of 
the orator's time; it is not brevity, butan 
enlarged scope, a full attention to every 
thing material, which they reconnnend. 
And how is it possible for an advocate to 



acquit himself of that dutj', unless in the 
most insignificant causes, if he affects to 
be concise ? Let me add what experience, 
that unerring guide, has taught me: it 
has frequently been my province to act 
both as an advocate and as a judge, as I 
have often assisted as an assessor*, where 
I have ever found the judgments of man- 
kind are to be influenced by difl'orent ap- 
plications; and tliat the slightest circum- 
stances often produce the most important 
consequences. There is so vast a variety 
in the dispositions and imderstandings of 
men, that they .seldom a^ree in their 
opinions about any one point in debate 
before iheni; or if they do, it is gene- 
rally from the movement of different pas- 
sions. Besides, as every man naturally 
favours his own discoveries, and when he 
hears an argument made use of which 
h?.d before occurred to himself, will cer- 
tainly embrace it as extremely convinc- 
ing, the orator therefore should so a- 
dapt himself to his audience as to throw 
out something to every one of them, that 
he may receive and approve as his own 
peculiar thought. I remember when Re- 
gulus and 1 were concerned together in a 
cause, he said to me. You seem to think 
it necessary to insist upon every point; 
whereas I always take aim at my adver- 
sary's throat, and there I closely press 
him. ('Tis true, he tenaciously holds 
whatever part he has once fixed upon ; 
but the misfortune is, he is extremely 
apt to mistake the right place.) I an- 
swered. It might possibly happen that 
what he took for what he called the 
throat, Avas in reality some other part. 
As for me, said I, who do not pretend 
to direct my aim with so much certainty, 
I attack every part, and push at every 
opening; in short, to use a vulgar pro- 
verb, i leave no stone unturned. As in 
agriculture, it is not my vineyards, or 
my woods alone, but my fields also that 
1 cultivate; and (to pursue the allusion) 
as I do not content myself with sowing 
those fields with only one kind of grain, 
but employ several different sorts: so iu 
my pleadings at the bar, 1 spread at large 
a variety of matter like so many different 
seeds, in order to reap from thence what- 
ever may happen to hit : for the dispo- 
sition of your judges is as precarious and 

* The Pi actor was assisted by tea avcssors, five 
of whom were senators, and the rest kiiights. 
With these ])C was obliged to eonsult before he 
prcno'-mred scntcuee. 


Sect. II. 

P L I X Y. 


as litlle to be ascertained, ai that of soils 
and seasons. J renienilnr the (oniic 
writer Kiipo! is mentions it in of 
that excellent orator Pericles that 

On Ills lips persuns'mii tiiiiij?. 
And |>(j\vt;i fill ri'iHoii nil'tl iii-; tnnijuc: 
Tims he alimccuulii Uoast tlieart, 
To cluu'ii) ;>t once and stiii!^ tiic heait. 

f>ut could Pericles, without ilie richest 
variety oJ'cxpressioM, and merely by tbrce 
of the concise or the rapid style, or both 
together (for they are extremely dif- 
ferent), have exerted that char:ii and that 
»itini>; of which the poet here Rpeaks ? To 
ilelight and to persuade requires time 
and a great compass of language; and to 
leavea sting in 'he minds of hisuudience, 
is an effect not to be cxjjected from an 
orator wlio slightly pushes, but froiu 
him, and him only, who thrusts liome 
and deep. Another comic poet ', speak- 
ing of the same orator, says. 

His mighty words like Jove's own fliutider roll ; 
Greeee hears and trembler to her iiiunj:it soul. 

But it is not the concise and the reserved, 
it is the copious, the lUitjestic, and the 
sublime orator, who w iih the blaze and 
thunder of his cloijuence hurries impetu- 
ously along, and bears dow n all before 
him. There it a just mean, I own, iu 
everything : but he equally deviates iVom 
that true mark, who falls short of it, as 
he who goes beyond it; he who confines 
himself in too narrow a compass, as he 
who launches out with too great a lati- 
tude. Hence it is as common to hear 
our orators condemned for being too bar- 
ren, as too luxuriant; for not reaching, 
as well as for overllowing the bounds of 
their subject. Both, no doubt, are eijiially 
distant from the proper medium ; but 
with this dillerence, however, that in the 
one the fault arises from an excess, in the 
other from a deficiency ; an error w hich 
if it be not a sign of a more correct, yet 
is certainly of a more exalted genius. 
When I sav this, I would not be under- 
stood to approve that everlasting talker f 
mentioned in Homer, but that other X 
described iu tlie following lines: 

Frequent and .soft as falls the winter snow. 
Thus from his lips tlic copious periods How. 

Mot but 1 extremely admire him too §, of 
whom the poet says. 

Few weie his word?, but wonJerruUy strouj. 

* Aristophanes. 
f Thersiies, Iliad ii. v. 212. 
% Ulysses, Iliad iii. v. 22;2-. 
§ Muaclaus, iUd. 

Yet if I were to choose, I should clrarly 
give the preference to the style resembling 
winter snow, that is, to the full and dif- 
fusive ; in short, to that |)omp of elo- 
(|uence which seems all heavenly and 
divine. But ('tis urgi'(l) the harangue of 
a more moderate length is most ge- 
nerally admired, h is so, I confess: 
but by whom.? By the indolent only ; 
and to fix the standard by the laziness 
and false delicacy of thcscj would surelv 
be the highest absurdity. Were you to 
consult persons of this cast, they would 
tell you, not only that it is best to say 
little, but tliat it is best to say nothing. — 
Thu.?, my friend, I have laid before you 
my scntmients upon this subject, which 
I shall readily abandon, if I find they are 
not agreeable to yours. But if you should 
dissent from me, I btg you would com- 
nmnicate to me your reasons. For though 
i ought to yield in this case to your more 
enlightened judgement, yet in a point of 
such consequence, I had rather receive 
ray conviction from the force of argu- 
ment than autiiority. If you should b*' 
of my opinion in this matter, a line or 
two from yon in return, intimating your 
concurrence, will be sufficient to confirm 
me in the justness of my sentiiDents. 0& 
the contrary, if yoti think me mistaken, 
I l^eg you would give me your objections 
at large. Yet has it not, think you, 
.something of the air of bribery, to ask 
only a short letter if you agree with mc; 
but enjoin jou the trouble of a very long 
one, if you are of a contrayy opinion.'' 


L E T T E R XI. 

To Cafilius Severus. 

AM at present detained in Rome (and 
have been so a considerable time) 
under the most alarming apprehensions, 
Titus Aristo, whom I Infinitely love and 
esteem, is fallen into a dangerous and 
obstinate illness which deeply affects me.- 
Virtue, knowledge, and good sense, shine 
out w ith so superior a lustre in this excel- 
lent man, that learning herself and every 
valuable endownvent seems involved in 
the danger of his single person. How 
consummate is his knowledge both in the 
political and civil laws of his country ! 
How thoroughly conversant is he in every 
branch of hTstoVy and antiquity ! Ihere 
is no article of science, in short, you^ 
would wish to be infornted of, in which' 
¥ he 


E L E G A N T E P I S T L E S. 

Book I. 

lie is not skillcil. As for my own ])art, 
Avhenever 1 would acquiiint nivsolt with 
any abstruse point of literature, lliave re- 
course to him, as to one who supplies me 
with its most hiilden treasures. \V'h;it un 
amiable sincerity, what a noble dlirnitv is 
there in his conversation ! How humble, 
yet howgraceful ishisdiflulencel Though 
lie conceives at once everv point in de- 
bate, yet he is as slow to decide as he is 
quick to iippreiiend, calndy ami delibe- 
rately weighiiigevcrv'opposite reason that 
is otlered, and tracing it, with a most 
judicious penetration, from its source 
through all its remotest conse(iuences. 
His diet is frugal, his dress plain ; and 
whenever I enter his chamber, and view 
him upon his couch, I consider the scene 
before me as a true image of ancient 
simplicity, to which his illustrious mind 
reflects the noblest ornamerit. lie places 
no part of iiis happiness in ostentation, 
but refers the whole of it to conscience; 
and seeks the reward of his virtue, not 
in the clamorous appluu-es of the world, 
but in the silent satisfaction which results 
from having acted well. Inshort, you will 
not easily find his equal even among our 
^ philosophers by profession. Hefrcfiueuts 
not the places of public disputations*, 
nor idly anmses himself and others with 
vain and end less controversies. His no- 
bler talents are exerted to more ust i'ul 
purposes; in thescenesofcivil andactive 
life. Many has he assisted with his in- 
terest, still more with his advice ! But 
though he dedicates his time to the ail'airs 
of the world, he regulates his conduct by 
the precepts of the philosophers; and in 
the practice of temperance, piety, justice 
and fortitude, he has no superior. It is 
. astonishing with what patience he bears 
his illness; how he struggles with pain, 
endures thirst, and quietly submits to the 
troublesome regimen necessarvin araging 
fever. [le lately called me, and a few 
more of his particular friends, to his bed- 
side, and begged we would ask his i)hv- 
sicians what turn they apprehended his 
distemper would take': that if they pro- 
nounced it incurable, he might volunta- 
rily put an end to his life; but if there 
were hopes of a recovery, however tedi- 
ous and difficult, he might wait theevent 
with patience : for so much, he thought, 
was due to the tears and intreaties of his 

* Tie philosophers used to bold their disputa- 
iTuns in the Gymuasia and Porticos, being places 
»t wtfbt puJt)Uc r«bori for walkinf, &c. 

wite and daughter,aud to the aflectionate 
intercession of his friends, as not volunta- 
rily to abandon our hopes, if in truth 
they were not entirely desperate. A re- 
solution this, in my estimation, truly hc- 
roical, and worthy of the highest ap- 
plause. Instances are frequent enough 
in the world, of rushing into the arms of 
death without reflection, and by a sort of 
blind impulse: but calmly and delibe- 
rately to weigh the reasons for life or 
death, and to be determined in our choice 
as either side of the scale prevails, is the 
mark of an uncommon and groat mindf. 
We have had the satisfaction of the opi- 
nion of his physicians in his favour ; and 
may heaven give success to their art, and 
free me iVoiii this restless anxiety ! If that 
should happily be the event, I shall im- 
mediately return to my favourite Lauren- 
tiniim, or, in other words, to my books 
and studious retirement. At present, so 
much of my time and thought is em- 
ployed in attendance upon my friend, 
and in my apprehensions for him, that I 
have neither leisure nor inclination for 
subjects of literature. Thus have I in- 
foriiied you of niy fears, my wishes, and 
my intentions. Communicate to me, in 
your turn, but in a gayer style, an ac- 
count not oidy of what you are and havp 
been doing, but even of your future de- 
sigtis. It will be a very sen.sible consola- 
tion to me in this perplexity of mind, to 
be assured that yours is easy. FarcwOL 



To Bebius. 

V friend and guest Tianquillus hat 
an inclination to purchase a small 
farm, of which, as I am informed, an ac- 
quaintance of yours intends to dispose. I 
beg you would endeavour he may have 
it upon reasonable terms; a circumstance 
which will add to his satisfaction in ob- 
taining it. A dear bargain is always dis- 
agreeable, particularly as it is a reflec- 
tion upon the purchaser's judgment. 
There are several circumstances attending 
this little villa, which (suppositig my 
friend has no objection to the price) are 
extremely suitable to his taste : the con- 

f The general lawfulness of self-murder was a 
doctrine by no meaiu universally received in the 
ancient Pagan world ; many of the nio->t consi- 
di^rablu names, both Greek and Roman, having 
fixprewly declaied against tJjat practice. 


Sect. II. 

P L r N Y. 



venicnt distance from Rome, the good- 
ness of the roads, the .snialliiess of the 
b"ildin'^, and the very few acres of land 
around it, whieli is just enough to amuse, 
but not employ him. To a man of the 
studious turn that Tran(|uillMS is, it is 
sufFieicnt if he has hut a small spot to re- 
lieve the mind and divert the eye, w here 
he may saunter round his grounds, tr;i- 
verse his single walk, grow familiar wiih 
his twoorthree vines, and count his little 
plantations. 1 mention these particulars, 
to let von see how much he will be 
obliged to me, as I shall to you, if you 
can help him to the purchase of this little 
box, so agreeable to his taste, upon terms 
of which he shall have nooccasion to re- 


To Voconius Eoniunus. 

OME has not for many years beheld 
a more magnificent and solemn 
spectacle, than was lately exhibited in 
the public funeral of that great man, 
the illustrious and fortunate * Virginius 
Rufus. He lived thirty years in the full 
enjoyment of the highest reputation : and 
as he had the satisfaction to see his actions 
celebrated by poets, and recorded by 
historians, he seems even to have anti- 
cipated his fame with posterity. He was 
thrice raised to the dignity of consul, that 
he who refused to be the fust of princes f, 

* The ancients seem to have considered for- 
tune as a uiark of merit in the person who was 
Urns distinguished. Cicero (to borrow the ob?er- 
Tation of an excellent writer) recommended Pom- 
pey to the Romans for their general upon three 
accounts, as he was a man of courage, conduct, 
and soodforiiirie ; and not only Sylla the dicta- 
tor, but several of the Roman emperors, as is still 
to be seen upon their medals, among other titles, 
gave themselves that of/c/ir, or fortunate. 

f At the time of the general defection from 
Nero, Virginius was at the head of a very power- 
ful army in Germany, which had pressed liun, 
and even attempted to force him, to accept the 
title of emperor. But he constantly refused it ; 
adding, that he would not even sutler it to be givip 
to any pei-son but whom the senate should elect. 
With this army lie marched agaiiutVindcx, who 
had put himself at the head of 10l),0tH) Gauls. 
Having come up with him, he ga\e him battle, 
in which V'index was slain, and his forces entirel3- 
defeated. After this victor>',when Nero's death 
was known in the army, the soldiei-s renewed 
their application to Virgmius to accept the im- 
perial dignity ; and though one of the tribunes 
ixished into his tent, and threatened that he should 
eithir receive t'le fmpire, or li'/s sn-cd throngh his 
toiij, he resolutely per^Uicd. in his former senti- 

might at least be the highest of snhj*?ct^ 
As he escaped the resentment oitjios* 
emperors to whom his virtues had ^iven 
umbrage, antl even rendered him odious, 
and ended his days when this best of 
princes, this friend of mankind!, was ia 
()uitt possession of the empire, it seems as 
if Providence had purposely preserved 
him to these times, that he might receive 
the honour of a |)u!)lic funeral. He ar- 
rived in full tranquillity, and universally 
revered, to the eighty-fourth year of hi.* 
age; having enjoye<l an uninterrupted 
state of health during his whole life, ex- 
cepting only a paralytic disorder in his 
hand.s, which, however, was attended 
with no pain. Ijis last sickness, indeed, 
was severe and tedious ; but even the ac- 
cident that occasioned it added to his 
glory. As h(; was preparing to return 
his public acknowledgments to the em- 
peror, who had raised him to the consul- 
ship, a large volume, which he acci- 
dentall3n"eccivcdatthat time, too weighty 
for a feeble old man, slipped out of his 
hands. In hastily endeavouring to re- 
cover it, the [.avcment being extremely 
slippery, he fell down and broke his 
thigh bone; which fracture, as it was 
unskilfully set at first, and having besides 
the infirmities of age to contend with, 
could never be brought to unite again. 
The funeral obse;-uies paid to the me- 
mory of this great man, have done ho- 
nour to the emperor, to the present age, 
and even to eloquence herself. The con- 
sul Cornelius Tacitus pronounced his fu- 
neral oration ; for, to crown the series of 
his felicities, he received the applause of 
the most eloquent of orators. He died full 
of years and of glory, as illu.strious by 
the honours he refused as by those he 
acquired. Still, however, he will be 
missed and lamented bj'the world, as the 
bright model of a better age ; especially 
by myself, w ho not only admired him as 
a patriot, but loved him as a friend. We 
were not only natives of the same pro- 
meuts. But as soon as the news of Nero's death 
was confirmed, and that the senate had declared 
for Galba, he prevailed with the army, though 
With much difficulty, to do so too. 

+ The justness of this glorious title, the friend 
of mankind, here given tj Nena, is confirmed by 
the onci'.rrent testimony of all the historians of 
these times. That excellent emperor's short reign 
seems inJeed to have been one uninterrupted <e- 
r;ej of generous and benevolent actions ; and he 
u-,ed to say himself, he had the satisfaction of 
being conscioiis he had nut cjmmitted a single 
act that Could give just oJ^nce to any man. 
F 2 viug^j 


E L E G A NT E P I S T L V. S. 

Ijook I. 

vince, anil of neii^hhonrinti towns, but 
oMr estates were contit;uoiis. IJesidts 
theseacci'lental coiinoxions with him, he 
\va^ also left guar !ian to me; and imleod 
he treated me wiih the aUection of a pa- 
rent, U henever 1 oflbred jnyself a can- 
didate for any employ inent, he constantly 
supported me with his interest; as in all 
the honours I have obtained, though he 
had long since renounced all olliccs ot 
this nature^ he would kindly give up the 
repose of his retirement, and come in per- 
son to solicit for me. At the time when 
it is customary for tlie priests to nominate 
such asthev judge worthy to be received 
into their sacred ollice *, he constantly 
proposed me. Even in his last sickness 
I received a distinguishing markofiiis 
aftection ; being apprehensive he might 
be named one of the five commissioners 
appointed by the senate to reduce the 
public expenses, he fixed upon me, young 
as I am, to carry his excuses, in pre- 
ference to so many other friends of su- 
perior age and dignity; and in a very 
obliging manner assured me, that had he 
a son of his own, be would nevertheless 
have employed me in that ollice. Have 
I not sutikient cause then to lament his 
death, as if it were immature, and thus 
pour out the fulness of my grief in the 
bosom of my friend? if indeed it be rea- 
sonable to grieve upon this occasion, or 
to call that event death, which, to such a 
man, is r:)ther to be looked upon as the 
period of his mortality than the end of 
his life. He lives, my friend, aiid will 
continue to live for ever; and his fame 
will spread farther, and be more cele- 
brated by mankind, now that he is re- 
moved fiom their sight. 

I had many other things to write to 
you, but my ujind is so entirely taken up 
with this subject that 1 cannot call it off 
to any other. Virginius is constantly in 
jny thoughts ; the vain but lively impres- 
sions of him are con'inually before my 
eyes, and 1 am for ever fondly imagining 
thati hear him, converse with him, and 
embrace him. There are, perhaps, and 
possibly hereafter will be, some few who 

* Namely, of Augiirs, This coUeicc, as regu- 
lated b\' .Sj-lla, ronsistcd of fifteen, who where all 
persons ofthe first dstinrtion in Rome : it wasa 
priesthood for life, of a cliaracter indelible, which 
no crime orforfeiture could ettare ; it was neces- 
sary that every candidate sliould be nominated to 
the people by two Au.?urs, who gave a solemn tes- 
timony upon oath ot" hre dij»ity and litnet* for 
tbat office. 

may rival him in virtue; but not one, I 
am persuaded, that willcver equal him iii 
glory. Eareuel. 


L E 1" r 1". U XIV. 
'/'() J'auliiii/s. 

iiKTiiLii I have reason for my rage, 
is not (juite so clear; however won- 
drous angry 1 am. But love, you know, 
will sometimes be irrational ; as it is often 
ungovernable, and ever jealous. The 
occasion of this my formidable wrath is 
great, you niust allow, were it but just : 
yet taking it for granted, that there is as 
much truth as weight in it, I am most 
vehemently enraged at your long silence. 
WouKl you soften my resentment ? Let 
your letters for the future be very fre- 
(juent, and very long. I shall excuse you 
upon no other terms; and as absence 
from Kome, or engagement in business, 
is a plea 1 can by no means admit; so 
that of ill health, the gods, I hope, will 
not suffer you to allege. As for myself, 
I am enjoying at my villa the alternate 
pleasures of study and indolence; those 
happy privilegcsof retired leisure! Fare- 


To Ncpos. 


V. had received very adrantageous 
accounts of Iseus, before his arrival 
here; but he is superior to all that was 
reported of him. He possesses the utmost 
facility and copiousness of expression, 
and his unpremeditated discourses have 
all the])ropriety and elegance of the most 
studied and elaborate composition. He 
speaks tlted'rcck language, or rather the 
genuine Attic. His exordiums are polite, 
easy, and harmonious; and, when occa- 
sion requires, solemn and majestic. He 
gives his audience liberty to call for any 
question they please, and sometimes even 
to name what side of it he shall take ; 
when immediateFy he rises up in all the 
graceful attitude of an orator, and enters 
at once into his subject with surprising 
fluency. His reflections are solid, and 
clothed i n the choicest expressions, wh ich 
present themselves to him with the utmost 
facility. The ease and strength of his 
most unprepared discourses plainly dis>- 
cover he has been very conversant in 
th^ best authors> and much accustomed^ 


Sfct. II. 

P L I N V. 


to compose hlmsplf. He opens his subject 
with great propriety; his style is clear, 
hiS reasoning stronj^s his inferences just, 
and liis figures graceful and .sublinjc. In 
a wijnl, he at once instructs, entertains, 
and aflects you, and each in so high 
a degree, that you are at a l'>.-,s to deter- 
mine in which of those talents he most 
excels. His arguments are fur.ned in all 
the strength and conciseness of the strict- 
est logic ; a jioint not very easy to attain 
even in studied compositions. His me- 
mory is so extraordinary, that he will re- 
jjeat what he has before spoke extempore, 
ivilhout losing a single word. This won- 
derful facullv he h;.s accjuired by great 
application and practice, for his whole 
time is so devoted to subjects of this na- 
ture, that he thinks and talks of nothing 
else. Tliough he is above sixty-three 
years of age, he still chooses to continue 
in this profession ; than which, it must be 
owned, none abounds with men of more 
worth, simplicity, and integrity. We who 
are conversant in the real contentions 
ofthe bar, unavoidably contract a certain 
artfulness, however contrary to our na- 
tural tempers: Imt the business ofthe 
schools, as it turns merely upon matters 
of imagination, atlords iin employment as 
innocent as it is agreeable ; and it must, 
methinks, be |)articularlvso to those who 
are advanced in years; as nothing can 
be more desirable at that period of life, 
than to enjoy those reasonable pleasures, 
vhich are the most pleasing entertain- 
ments oi" rur joulli. i lot>k therefore 
upon Iseus, notonlv as the most eloquent, 
but the most haj>pv of men ; as I shall 
esteem you the most insensible if you ap- 
pear to slight his acquaintance. Let me 
prevail with you then to come to lionie, 
if not upon my account, or any other, at 
least for the pleasure of hearing this ex- 
traordinary person. Do you remember 
to have read of a certain inhabitant of 
the city of Cadiz, who was so struck 
with the illustrious character of Livy, 
that he travelled to Rome on purpose to 
see that great genius ; and, as soon as iie 
had satisfied his curiosity, returned home 
again? A man must have a very inele- 
gant, illiterate, and indolent (I had almost 
said a very mean) turn of mind, not to 
think whatever relates to a science so en- 
tertaining, so noble, and so i>(>lite, worthy 
of his curiosity. You will tell me, pi r- 
haps, you have authors in your own study 
et^ually eloquent. I allow it ; and those 

aiithors you may turn over at any time, 
but you cannot always have an opportu- 
nity of hearing Iseus. licsides, we are 
infmitelj' more aHected with what wc 
hear, than what we read. There is 
something in the voice, the countenance, 
the habit*, and the gesture of the 
speaker, that concur in fixing an impres- 
sion upon th.c mind, and gives this me- 
thod of instruction greatly the advantage 
of any thingOne can receive from books; 
this at least was the opinion of /Eschines, 
who having read to the liliodiansaspeech 
of Demosthenes, which they loudly ap- 
plauded : " liut how," said he, " would 
" you have been alVected, had you heard 
" the orator himself thundering out tliis 
"sublime harangue?" ilLschines, if v.e 
may believe Demosthenes, had great dig- 
nity of utterance ; yet, you see, he could 
not but confess it would have btiena con- 
siderable advantage to the oration, if it 
had bein pronounced by the author him- 
self, in all the pompand energy of his 
powerful elocution. What I aim at by 
this, is, to persuade you to come and 
hear Iseus ; and let me again intreat you 
to tlo so, if for no other reason, at least 
that you may have the pleasure to say, 
you once heard him. i'avewel. 


To Caninius. 

TTow is m)' friend employed ? Is it in 
the pleasures of study, or in those of 
the field ? Ur does he unite both toge- 
ther, as he well may, on the banks of 
our favourite Lariusf ? The fish in that 
noble lake will supply yon with sport of 
that kind ; as the woods that surround it 
will afVord you game; while the solem- 
nity of that sequestered scene will at the 
same time dispose your mind to contem- 
plation. Whether you are entertained 
with all, or any of these agvecoble amuse- 
ments, far be it tliatlshoui J say! envyyou; 
but, I must confess, I greatly regret that 
I cannot partake of them too ; a happi- 
ness I as earnestly long for, as a man in a 
fever docs ior drink to allay his thirst, or 

* The ancients tbonjht cvorj' thiny that con- 
cerned an orator worthy o: ihcir at:t!Uiun, even 
to his very (frcss. 

f Now called Lago di Cumo. iii ihe Milanese. 

Couium, ihe place where Pi:ny was born, and 

near to which Caninius had a co'.intvy hj..:.e. was 

situated upou the border of this lake. 

F 3 baths 

K L E G A N T i: 1* I S T L E S. 

Book I. 

baths and fountains to assu:i£:^t» his heat. 
Shall I never break loosu (if I may not 
disentanpjle myself) from these tics that 
thus closely withhold nit? I diuibt, in- 
deed, never; for new afKiirs are daily 
increasing, while yet the former renjain 
unfi.iished; such an cndle-;strain of busi- 
ness rises upon me, and rivets my chains 
j>till faster! Earewel. 

from an earnest desire of hearing, is as 
aijreeable to me as the loudest approba- 
tion. Do not then, by this uineasonuble 
reserve, defraud your labours any longer 
of a iViiit so certain and so tlesirable; if 
yon should, the world, I ftar, will be apt 
tocharj^eyou with caix'lessncssand indo- 
lence-, or, perhaps, witii timidity. Fare- 


To Octfiiius. 

y^ov are certain!}- a most obstinate, I 
^ had almost said a most cruel man, 
thus to withhold from the world such ex- 
cellent compositions! \]mv long do you 
intend to deny vo'ir friends the pleasure 
of your vcrsrs, and yourself the glory of 
them? Sutler them, I ir.treat you, to 
come abroad, and to be admired ; as ad- 
mired they undonbtedly will he, where- 
everthe Roman language is understood. 
The public, believe nie, has long and 
earnestly expected tiicm, and j'ou ought 
not to disappoint or delay it any longer. 
Some few poems of yours have already, 
contrary to your inclination, indeed, 
broke their prison, and escaped to liaht: 
these 11 you do not collect together, 
some person orotherwill claim the agree- 
able wanderers as their own. Remember, 
my friend, the mortality of human na- 
ture, and that there is nothing so likely 
to preserve \our name as amonument of 
this kind ; all others are as frail and pe- 
rishable as the men whose memory they 
pretend to perpetuate. You will say, I 
suppose, as usual, let my friends see to- 
that. May you find many \vhose care, 
fidelity, and learning, render them able 
and willing to undertake so considerable 
a charge ! But surely it is not altogether 
prudent to expect from others, what a 
man will not do ior himself. However, 
as to publishing of them, I will press you 
Jio farther; be that when you shall tlunk 
proper. But let me, at least, prevail witii 
you to recite thnn, that vou may be more 
disposed to send them abroad ; and may 
receive the satisfaction of that applause, 
which I will venture, upon v-ery just 
grounds, to assure you of beforehand. I 
please myself with imagining the crowd, 
the admiration, the applause, and even 
the silence that will attend you : for the 
silence of an aiuliexice, when it proceeds 


To Pn'scKs. 

A s I kno'.v von gladlv embrace every 
-'■'- opportunity of obliging me, so there 
is no man to whom I had rather lay my- 
self under an obligation. I apply to you, 
therefore, preferably to any body else, 
for a favour which I urn extremely de- 
sirous of obtaining. You, who are at the 
head of a very considerable army, have 
i^.iany opportunities of exercising ^our 
generosity; and the length of time you 
have enjoyed t hat post, must have enabled 
you to provide for all your own friends. 
1 hope you will now turn your eyes upon 
some of mine: they are but a few indeed 
for whom I sliall solicit you ; though 3'our 
generous disposition, I know, would be 
better pleased if the number were greater. 
But it would ill become me to trouble 
you with recommending more than one 
or two; at present I will only mention 
Voconius Romanus. His father was 
of great distinction among the Roman 
knights; and his father-in-h, .', or, as I 
might more properly call him, his second 
father (for his aflectionate treatment of 
Voconiusentitleshimto thatap|>ellation,) 
was still n)ore conspicuous. IJis mother 
was one of the most considerable ladies of 
Upper Spain: you know what character 
the people of that province bear, and 
how remarkable they are for the strict- 
ness of their manners. As for himsell^ 
he has been lately admitted into the sa- 
cred order of priesthood. Our friendship 
began with our studies, and we were early 
united in the closest intimacy. We lived 
together under the same roof in town and 
country, as lie shared with me my most 
serious and my gayest hours : and where, 
indeed, could I have found a more faith- 
ful friend, or more agreeable companion ? 
In his conversation, and even in his very 
voice and countenance, there is the most 
amiable sweetness; as at the bar he dis- 
covers an elevated genius, an easy and 


5ect. II. 

P L I N V. 

i:armonious elocution, a dear and peno- 
Iratingapprchensiuu. lie has so happy' 
a turn for epistohiry wrilhig*, that were 
you to read his letters, vou wouhl ima- 
gine tlie\' had been dictated by the Muses 
tiiemselves. I love hini with a more than 
common afVection, ami I know he returns 
it with equal ardour. Even in the earlier 
part of our lives, I warmly embraced 
every opportunity of doing him all the 
good olliccs wliich then lay in my power ; 
as I have lately obtained for him of the 
eni[)erorf, the privilege granted to those 
■who have three children [j;. A favour 
which though Cipsar very rarely bestows, 
and always with great caution, yet he 
conferred, at my recjuest, in such a man- 
ner as to give it the air and grace of 
being his own choice. The best way of 
shewing that I think he deserves the 
obligations he has alrendv received from 
me, is, by adding more to them, espe- 
cially as lie always accepts my favours 
with so much gratitude as to merit far- 
ther. Thus 1 have given you a faithful 
account of Romanus, and informed you 
how thoroughly I have experienced his 
Avorth, and ho\v much I love him. Let 
me intreat you to honour him with your 
patronajje in away suitable to the gene- 
rosity ot your heart and the eminence of 
your station. But above all, admit him 
into a share of your atfection ; for though 
you were to confer upon him the utmost 
you have in your power to bestow, you 
can give him nothing so valuable as your 
friendship. That you may see he is 
worthy of it, even to the highest degree of 
intimacy, Ihave sent you thisshorlsketch 
of his character. I should continue my 
intercessions in his behalf, but that I am 
sure you do not love to be pressed, and I 
have already repeated them in every line 
of this letter; for to shew a just reason 
ibr what one asks, is to intercede in the 
strongest manner. Farewel. 

* It appeai>- from this and smnc other passages 
in the-;e U>ttcr>, that tlic ait of 0[>istolary writUiir 
was esteemed by the Romans m the number of 
liberal and polite accomplishments. 

f Trajan. 

;J: By a law pa^^^cd A. U. 7G2, it was enacted, 
that whatever citizen of Rom< had three ciiil- 
tlren, should be excused from all troublesome 
offices where he lived. This privilege the em- 
peror sometimes extended to iiio>e who were not 
li-gally entitled to it. 



To J'alerianus. 

nw goes on your old estate at INIarsi § ? 
and how^ do you approve of your 
new purchase ? Has it as inany beauties 
in your eye now, as l)el"orc you bought 
it r That would be extraordinary indeed I 
for an obj» ct in possession seldom retaiui 
the same charms it had in pursuit. As 
for myself, the estate left me by my mo- 
ther uses me but ill; however, I value it 
for her sake, and am besiiles grown a 
good deal insensible by a long course of 
bad treatment. Thus, frequent com- 
plaints generally end at last in being 
ashamed of complaining any more. 

L E T T li R XX. 

To Gallus. 

■\7'0L- are surprised, it seems, tliat I am 
^ so fond of my Laurentinumil, or (if 
you like the appellation better) my Lau- 
rens : but you will cease to wonder, when 
I acquaint you with the beauty of the 
villa, the advantages of its situation, and 
the extensive prospect of the sea-coast. 
It is but seventeen miles distant from 
Rome : so that having finished my affairs 
in tow n, I can pass my evenings here 
without breaking in upon the business of 
the day. There are two different roads to 
it; if you go by that of Laurentuni, you 
must turn off at the fourteenth mile- 
stone ; if by Ostia, at the eleventh. Both 
of them are in some parts sandy, which 
makes it something heavy and tedious if 
you travel in a coach, but easy and plea- 
sant to those who ride. The landscape 
on all sides is extremely diversitied, the 
prospect in some places beingconfined b)'- 
woods, in others extending over large 
and beautiful meadows, where number- 

§ One of the ancient ('ivisions of I'aly, com- 
prehending part of what is now called the Far- 
ther Abruzza. 

II Pl'aiy had no estate round this seat, his 
whole posessions here being included in this 
house and gardens. It was merely a winter 
villa, in whicii he used to spend some of the cold 
nionths, whenever his business admitted of his 
absence from Rome: and for this reason it is 
that we find warmth so much considered in the 
disposition of the several apartments, &c. And 
indeed he seems to have a principal view to its 
advantages as a winter houie tluoughout the 
whole description of it, 

F 4 i«^s 


E L L G A N T E IM S T L E S. 

iJook I. 

less floclis of sheep and henls of cattle, 
Nvhich the severity of the winter has 
drove from the mountains, fatten in the 
vernal warmth of this rich pasturage. 
My villa is large enough to atlonl all 
conveniences, without being expensive. 
The porch before it is plain, hut not 
mean, through which you enter into a 
portico in the form of the letter 1), which 
includes a small bnt agree:iblc area. This 
allbrdsa very commodious retreat in Inid 
weather, not only as it is inclosed with 
windows, but particularly as it is shel- 
tered by an extraordinary projection of 
the roof. From the middle of this por- 
tico yon pass into an inward court ex- 
tremely pleasant, and from thence into a 
handsome hall which runs out towards 
the sea; so that when there is a south- 
west wind it is gently washed with the 
waves, which spend themselves at the 
toot of it. On every side of this hall 
there are either folding-doors or windows 
equally large, by which means yuu have 
a view from the front and the two sides, 
as it were of three ditfcrcnt seas; from 
the back part you see the middle court, 
tlie portico, and the art a ; and by another 
view you look through the portico into 
the porch, from whence the prospect is 
terminated by the woods and mountains 
which are seen at a distance. <_)n the 
left-hand of this hall, something farther 
from the sea, lies a large drawing room, 
and beyond that a second of a smaller 
size, w hich has one w indow to the rising, 
and another to the setting sun ; this has 
likewise a prospect of the sea, but being 
at a greater distance, is less incommoded 
by it. The angle which the ynojection 
of the hall forms with this drawing room, 
retains and increases the warmth of the 
sun, and hither my family retreat in 
winter to perform their exercises. It is 
sheltered from all winds except those 
which are generally attended with clouds, 
so that nothing can render th!> place use- 
less, but what at the same time destroys 
the fair weather. Contiguous to this, is 
a room forming the segment of a circle, 
the windows of which are so placed as to 
receive the sun the whole day. In the 
walls are contrived a sort of cases, which 
contain a collection of such authors 
whose works can never be read too often. 
From hence you pass into a bed-chamber 
through a passage, which beiu"- boarded, 
and suspended as it were over a stove 
which runs uaderneathj tempers the heat 

which it reci ives and conveys to all parts 
of this room. The remainder of thisside 
of the house is appropriated to the use of 
my slaves and freed nieii; but, however, 
most of the apartments in it are neat 
pnoii'j;!i to enlirtain any of my friends, 
who are inclined to be my guests. In 
the opposite wing is a room ornanR-nted 
in a vL-rv tleganf taste; next to which lies 
anolhtr roouj, which, though Urge for a 
parlour, makes but a moikrate dining- 
room ; it is exceedingly warmed and 
enlightened not only by the direct rays of 
the sun. but by their rellection from the 
sea. Beyond this is a bed-chamber, to- 
gether with its ante-chamber, the height 
of which renders it cool in sun^.mer, as 
its being sheltered on uU sides from the 
winds, makes it warm in winter. To this 
apartment another of the same sort is 
joined by one common wall. From 
thence you enter into the grand and 
spacious cooliu^-rnom* belonging to the 
balhsf, from the opposite walls of which 


* The principal use of tliis mom seems t» 
have been tiesiirned to prepare the bodies oi 
tli(j.<e who h;ul been in tlic former rooiii, fur 
tiicir jroino; into the wanner air. 

-}• The eu-itoin <jf ba-hing in hot water was 
become so habitual tu the Konians in Pliny's 
time, tliat they eveiy day praci ised it before they 
sat do-.VM to eat; for wliich reason, in the city, 
the public baths were extremely immerous; in 
which Vitruvius eivc-; us to understantl tiiere 
were for each sex three rooms for batiiiug, one 
of Cold water, one of warm, and one still warm- 
er ; and there were ceils of three degrees of heat 
for sweating : to the before-mentioned membcre 
were added others for nnoi»ti>i!r and bodily exer- 
cises. The last thing they did before they en- 
tered into the dining-room' was to bathe; what 
preceded their washing was their exercise in the 
spheristerium, prior to which it was their custom 
to anoint themselves. As for their sweating- 
rooms, tho'.igh they were doid)tIess in ;ill their 
baths, we do not lind them to have been used 
but upon particular occasions. 

The Rqman magniiicence seems to have parti- 
cularly displayed itself in the article of their 
baths. SciK'ca, dating one of his epistles from a 
villa which once belonged to the famous .Scipip 
Africanus, takes occasion from tlxMice to draw a 
parallel between the simplicity of tlie earlier 
ages, and the luxury of his own times in that 
instance. ]?y the idea he gives of the latter, 
they were works of the high<-st splendour anU 
expevce. The walls were composed of Alex- 
andrine marble, whose veins were polished and 
brightened in such a manner as to look like a 
pictiu'e: the edges of the basons were set round 
with a most valuable kind of stone, found in 
Tiiasius, one of the Greek islan<ls, varie^ted 
with virins of dilVercnt colours, interspersed vvitli 
streaks of gold; liie water was co'»vey<.d through 
silveipipes, and fell, by several difleif nt desceuts. 

Sect. II. 

P L 1 N Y. 


two round basons pr»jjoct, larpe enoii£rli 
to swim ill. Coiitigi;oiis to tliis is the 
perruniiiiL^- room, tlieu the swcutiiig- 
roon», iiiid beyond that, the rnrnace 
which conveys the hcnt to the baths: 
ad'joininjEf are two other little bathing- 
rooms, wliicli are fitted up in an elegant 
rather than costlv manner: annexed to 
tliis is a warm bath of extraonlinary 
workmanship, wherein one may swim, 
and have a ])rosp('ct at the same time of 
the sea. Not far from hence stands the 
tennis-court, which lies open to the 
warmth of the afternoon sun. From 
thence you ascend a sort of turret, which 
contains two entire apartments below; 
as there are the lianie number above, be- 
sides a dining-ior)ni which commands a 
very extensive prospect of the sea and 
coast, together with the beautiful villas 
that stand interspersed upon it. At the 
other end is a secon<l turret, containing a 
room which faces the rising and setting 
sun. IJihind this is a huge room for a 
repository, next to which is a gallery of 
curiosities, and underneath a spacious 
dining-room, where the roaring of the 
sea, even in a storm, is heard but faintly : 
it looks upon the garden and the gestatio 
which surrounds the garden. 'I'he ges- 
tatio is encomi)assed with a box-tree 
hedge, and, where that is decayed, with 
rosemary : for the box in those parts 
which are sheltered by the buildings, 
preserves its verdure perfectly well : but 
where by anopen situation it lies exposed 
to the dashing of the sea- water, though 
at a great distance, it entirely withers. 
Between the garden and this gestatio runs 
a shady walk of vines, which is so soft 
that you may walk bare-foot upon it 
without any injury. The garden is 
chietly planted with fig and mulberry 
trees, to which this soil is as favourable 
as it is averse to all others. In this place 
is a banqueting-room, which, though it 
stands remote from the sea, enjoys how- 
ever a prospect nothing inferior to that 
view; two apartments run round tha 
back part of it, whose windows look 
upon the entrance of the villa, and into 
a very pleasant kitchen-garden. From 
hence an inclosed portico "'extends itself, 
which by its grandeur you might take 

in beautiful cascades. The floors were inlaid 
witli precious gems, and an intennixtuve of 
statues and colonnai'os contributed to throw an 
air of elegance and grandeur upon the whole. 

* These inclosed porticos diticred no other- 
wise from our present gallerie?, than that they 

for a public one ; it has a range ot win- 
dows on each side, but on that wliich 
looks towards the sea, they are douhln 
the number of those next the garden. 
When the weather is fair and serene, 
these are all thrown open; but if it 
blows, those on the side the wind sits arr 
shut, while the others remain unclosed 
without any inconvenience. iJefore thi» 
])oi'tico lies a terrace perfumed Avith vio- 
lets, and warmed by llie rellection of the 
sun from tlu; portico, whicli as it retains 
the rays, so it keeps oil' the north-east 
wind; and it is as warm on this side an 
it is cool on the opposite; in the same 
manner it is a defence against the south- 
west; and thus, in short, bv means of 
its several sides, breaks the force of the 
w inds from what point soever they blow. 
These are some of the winter advantages 
of this agreeable situati(»n, \\hich how- 
ever are still more considerable in sum- 
mer; for at that season it throws a shade 
upon the terrace during all tlie forenoon, 
as it defends the gestatio, and that part of 
the irarden w hich lies contiguous to it, 
from the afternoon sun, and casts a 
greater or less shade, as the day either in- 
creases or decreases; but the portico it- 
self is then coolest when the sun is most 
scorching, that is, when its ra)'s fall di- 
rectly upon the roof. To these advan- 
tages I must not forget to add, that by 
swtting open the windows, the western 
breezes have a free draught, and by that 
means the inclosed air is prevented from 
stagnation. On the upper end of the 
terrace and portico stands a detached 
building in the garden, which I call my 
favourite ; and in truth I am extremely 
fond of it, as I erected it myself. It con- 
tains a very warm winter room, one side 
of which looks upon the terrace, the 
other has a view of the sea, and both lie 
exposed to the sun. Through the fold- 
ing-doors you see the opposite chamber, 
and from the window is a prospectof the 
inclosed portico. On that side next the 
sea, and opposite to the middle wall, 
stands a little elegantretired closet, which, 
by means of glass doors and a curtain, \i 
either laid into the adjoining room, or se- 
parated from it. It contains a couch and 
two chairs: as you lie upon this couch, 
from the feet you have a prospect of the 
sea; if you look behind, you see the 
neighbouring villas; and from the head 

had pillars in them : the n=e of this room was 
for walking. 



!• L E G A N T E P I S T L E S. 

Book I. 

TOM have a view of the woods: these 
throe viewsmay bcsoen eitherdistinctly* 
from so many (lifieieiit windows in tlic 
room, or blended together in one con- 
ftfsetl prospect. Adjoining to this, is a 
beiUchannber,^ whic h neither the voice of 
the servants, the murmur of the sea, nor 
even thf roaring of a teini'cSi, can reach, 
ror liglitning nor t!ie day itself can pe- 
netrate it, uidess you open the windows. 
'Ihis profound tranquillity is occasioned 
by a jia^sage, which divides the wall of 
this chamber from that of the gardt'U, 
and l!)us by means of that void inter- 
vening space every noise is drovvneil. 
Annexed to this is a small stove-room, 
which by opening a little window warms 
the hed-chamber to the degree of heat 
Te(j'iired. Beyond this lies a chamber 
and ante-chamber, which enjoys the sun, 
thougii obliquely indeed, from the time 
it rises till the afternoon. When I retire 
to this garden apartment I fancy myself 
a hundred miles from my own house, and 
take particular pleasure in it at the feast 
of tl>e Saturnaliaf, v.hen, by the licence 
«f that season of joy, every other part of 
my villa resounds with the mirth of my 
domestics: thus I neither interrupt their 
riiversions, nor they my studies. Among 
the pleasures and conveniencies of this 
situation there is one disadvantage, and 
that is the want of a running stream ; but 
this defect is in a great measure supplied 
by wells, or rather I should call them 
springs, for they rise very near the sur- 
face. And indeed the quality of this 
coast is pretty remarkable; for in what 
part soever you dig, yon meet, upon the 
Hrst turning up of the ground, with a 
spring of pure water, not in the least salt, 
tljough so near the sea. The neighbour- 
ing forests aflbrd an abundant supply of 
fuel; as every other convenience of life 
Biay be liad from Ostia: to a moderate 
man, indeed, even the next village (be- 
tween which and my house there is only 
one villa) would furnish all the common 
necessaries of life. In that little place 

* It must have been from the micltllc of the 
room tliat he I'ould see all ihefc prospects sepa- 
rate and distinct, whieh upon a near approach 
to any particular window must Lave ai)peared 

f A feast held in honour of the ^ud Saturn, 
"^'hich be.^an on the 19th of Dtceinbrr, and con- 
tinued, as some say, for seven days. It was a 
tiiTic of froneral rejoiciniij particidarly among 
the slaves, who had at this season the privilege 
cit treating tli»jir pia«:ters with great fre'-'dyru. 

there are no less than three public baths; 
which is a great convenience if it happens 
that my friends come in uncxpectedlv, 
or make too short a stay to allow time for 
pre|)aring mv own. The whole coast is 
beautifully diversified by the joining or 
detached villas that are spread upon it, 
which, whether you view them frrnn the 
sea or the shore, have a much more agree- 
able eilect than if it was crowded with 
towns. It is sometimes, after a long calm, 
good travelling upon the coast, though in 
general, by the storms driving the waves 
upon it, it is rough and uneven. I can- 
not boast that our sea produces any very 
extraordinary fish; however, it supplies 
us with exceeding fineaoals and prawns : 
but as to provisions of other kinds, my 
villa pretends to excel even inland coun- 
tries, |)articularly in milk, for thither the 
cattle come from the meadows in great 
numbers in pursuit of shade and water. 
Tell me now, have I not just cause to 
bestow my time and my aflection upon 
this delightful retreat? Surely you are 
unreasonably attached to the pleasures of 
the town, if you have no inclination to 
take a view of it ; as I much wish you 
bad, that to so many charms with which 
my favourite villa abounds, it might have 
the very considerable addition of your 
presence to recommend it. Farevvel. 



To Mauriciis. 

HAT can be more agreeable to me 
than the office you have enjoined 
me, ofchusing a proper tutor for your 
nephews? It gives mc an opportunity of 
revisiting the scene of my education, and 
ofturning back again to the most pleasing 
part of iny life. I take my seat, as ibr- 
merlj-, among the young lads, and have 
the pleasure to experience the respect my 
character in eloquence meets with from 
them. I lately came in upon them \vl)i!c 
they were warmly declaiming before a 
very full audien,ce of persons of the first 
rank; the moment I appeared, they were 
silent. I mention this for their honour, 
i-ather than my own; and to let j'ou see 
the just hopes you may conceive of 
placing your nephews here to their ad- 
vantage. I purpose to hear all the seve- 
ral professors ; and when I have done so, 
I shall write you such an account of them 
as will enable you (as far asa letter can) 


Sect. II. 

P L I N Y. 


ti) judge of llieir respective abilities. 
The faithful execution of this important 
commission is what I owe to the friend- 
sljip that subsists between us, and to the 
nu'inorj' of vour brother. Nothing cer- 
taiiilv is more your conctfrn, than that his 
children (I woujfi have said yours, but 
that I know you now look upon ihein 
even Avith more tenderness than your 
own) mav be found wortliy of such a fa- 
ther, and such an uncle; and I should 
have claimed a part in that care, though 
you h;ul not re(|uired it of me. I am 
sensible, in choosifiga preceptor, I shall 
draw upon me the displeasure of all the 
I'est of that profession : but when the in- 
terest of these young men is concerned, I 
esteem it my duty to hazard the displea- 
sure, or even enmitv, of anv man with 
as much resolution as a parent would i'vr 
his own children. Tarewel 


To Cereal is. 

disadvantageous circumstance, which at- 
tends the speech in question, that it is 
chiefly of the argumentative kind; and 
it is natural for an author to suspect, that 
what he wrote with labour will not be 
read with pleasure. For who is there so 
unprejudiced as not to prefer the flowing 
an<l florid oration, to one in this close and 
unornamented style ? It is vt;ry unreason- 
able there should be anv difl'erence ; how- 
ever, it is certain the judges generally ex- 
pect one manner of pleading, and the 
audience another; Avhereas in truth an 
auditor ovight to be affected only with 
those things which would strike him, 
were he in the place of the judge. Ne- 
vertheless, it is possible the objections 
which lie against this piece may be got 
over, in consideration of th? novelty it 
has to recommend it; the novelty I mean 
■with respect to us, for the (.reek orators 
have a method, thougii upon a different 
occasion, not altogether unlike what 1 
made use of. They, when they would 
throw out a law, as contrary to some 

ou advise me to read niv late speech <• i i ' u 

•^ - ' former one unrepealed, argue by corn- 

before an assembly of my friends 
«hall do so, since it is agreeable to your 
opinion, though I hav« manj' scruples 
about it. Compositions of this kind lose, 
I well know, all their fire and force, and 
even almost their very name, by a plain 
recital. It is the se^emnity of the tribu- 
nal, tiie concourse of one's friends, the 
expectation of the success, the emulation 
between the several orators concerned, 
the different parties formed amongst the 
audience in their favour; in a word, it is 
the air, the motion*, the attitude of the 
speaker, with all the corresponding ges- 
tures of his body, which conspire to give 
a spirit and grace to what he delivers. 
Hence those who sit when they plead, 
(though they have most of the otirer ad- 
vantages I just now mentioned, yet, from 
that single circumstance, weaken and de- 
press the whole force of their eloquence. 
The eyes and hands of the reader, those 
important instances of graceful elocu- 
tion, being engaged, it is no wonder the 
hearer grows languid while he has none 
of those awaliening charms to excite and 
engage his attention. To these general 
considerations i must add this particular 

* Some of the 'Roman oraters •were as much 
too velieuient in tlicir action, as those of our 
own coimtry are too calm and .spiritless. In the 
violeneeof their elocution tliej- not only used all 
the wannth of iresturc, but aotuElly walked back- 
wards and lb. wanls. 

paring those laws together; sol, on the 
contrary* endeavoured to shew that the 
crime, which I was insisting upon as 
falling within the intent and meaning of 
the law relating to public extortions, was 
agreeable not only to that, but likewise to 
other laws of the same nature. Those 
who are not conversant in the laws of 
their country, can have no taste for rea- 
sonings of this kind ; but those who are, 
ought to be so much the more pleased 
with them. I shall endeavour, therefore, 
- if }ou persist in my reciting it, to collect 
* a judicious audience. But before you de- 
termine this point, I intreat you tho- 
roughly to weigh the dilliculties I hare 
laid before you, and then decide as reason 
shall direct; for it is reason that must 
justify you : obedience to your com- 
mands will be a suflficient apology for 
mc. Farewel. 

To Calvisius. 

T NEVER spent my time more agreeably, 
I think, than I did lately w^ilh Spurin- 
na. I am so much pleased with the unin- 
terrupted regularity of his way of life, 
that if ever I should arrive at old age, 
there is no man whom I would sooner 
choose for my model. I look upon order 
in huDian action?, especially at that 



l>ot)k I. 

advanced period. \\ itii the same sort of 
})lca>ure as I behold the settled course of 
the heavenly bodies. In youth, indeed, 
there is a certain irregularity and agita- 
tion by no means unbecoming; but in 
age, when business is unseasonalde, and 
ambition indecent, all should be cahn 
and uniform. This rule Sptirinna religi- 
ously pursues throughout his whole con- 
duct. Even in those transactions which 
one might call minute and inconsiderable 
did tliev not occur everv dav, ho observes 
a certain periodical season and mclhod. 
The tirsi part of the morning he devotes 
to study; at eight he dresses and walks 
about three miles, in which he enjoys at 
once contemplation and exercise. At his 
retur.i, if he has any friends with him in 
his house, he enters upon some polite and 
useful topic of convcrsiilion ; if he is 
alone, somebody reads to him; and some- 
times too when he is not, if it is agree- 
able to his company. When this is over 
he reposes himself, and thcii again either 
takes up a book, or falls into sbme dis- 
course even rnore entertaining and in- 
structive. He afterwards takes the air 
in his chariot, either with his wife (who 
is a lady of uncommon merit) or with 
some friend: a happiness which lately 
Tvas mine ! — How agreeable, how noble 
is the enjoyment of him in that hrjur of 
privacy! You would fancy you were 
hearing some worthy of ancient times, 
inflaming your breast with the most he- 
roic examples, and instructing your mind 
with the most exalted precepts ; which 
yet he delivers with so modest an air 
that there is not the least appearance of 
dictating in his conversation. When he 
has thus taken a tour of about seven 
miles, he gets out of his chariot and 
walks a mile more, after which lie returns 
home, and either reposes himself, or re- 
tires to his study. He has an excellent 
taste for poetry, and composes in thelyric 
manner, both in (;reek and Latin, with 
great judgment. It is surprising what 
an ease and spirit of gaiety runs through 
his verses, which the merit of th(! author 
renders still more valuable. When the 
baths are readjs which in winter is about 
three o'clock, and in summer about two, 
he undresses hinuelf ; and if there hap- 
pens to be no wind, he walks for some 
time in the sun. After this he plays a 
considerable time at tennis ; for i)y"this 
sort of exercise too, he combats the effects 
•f old age. When he has bathed, he 

throws hiinself upon his conch till supper 
time*, and in the meanwhile some agree- 
able antl entertaining author is read to 
him. In this, as in all the rest, his friends 
are at full liberty to partake; or to em- 
jjlov themselves in anv other manner 
more suitable to their ta-;te. You sit down 
to an elegant yet frugal repast, which 
is served up in pure and antique plate. 
He has likewise a con)plete equipage fur 
his side-board, in Corinthian metal f, 
which is Iiis pleasure, not his passion. At 
histabh^he is frequently entertained with 
comedians, that even his very amuse- 
ments may be seasoned with good sense ; 
and tluxigh he continues there, even in 
summei-, till tlie night is something ad- 
vanced, vet he prolongs the feast with so 
much affability and politeness, that none 
of his guests ever think it tedious. Bv 
this rm-'hod of living he has j)reserved 
all his senses entire, and his body active 
and vigorous to his seventv-eighth year, 
without discovering any appearance of 
Old age, but the wisdom. This is a sort 
of life which I ardently aspire after; as 
I purpose to enjoy it, when I shall anite 
at those years which will justify a retreat 
from busmess. In the mean while lam 
embarrassed with a thousand affairs, in 
which Spurinna is at once my support 
and mv example. As long as it became 
him he entered into all the duties of pub- 
lic life. It was by passing through the 
Aarious offices of the state, by governing 
of provinces, and by indefatigable toil, 
that he merited the repose he now enjoys. 
I propose to myself the same course and 
the same end ; and I give it to you under 
my hand that I do so. If an ill-timed 
ambition should carry me beyond it, pro- 
duce this letter against me, anil condemn 
ii)e to repose, whenever I can enjoy it 
without being reproached with indolence. 

* This was the principal meal amonsr the Ro- 
mans, ;it wliicli all tlieir feasts and invitations 
were luailc ; they usually ijugau it about tlieir 
ninth hum', answerinjr prettj' ncailj' to owv three 
o'clock in the aftcrnoun. Eut as Si)nriniia, we 
fni'l, (li<l not enter upan the exercises which al- 
ways preceded this meal till the ei.slith or nintli 
liuur, if we allow about three hours for that pur- 
pose, he could not sit down to table till towards 
six or seven o'clock. 

f This inetal, whatever it was composed of 
(for tiiat point is by no means clear), was so high- 
ly esteemed among the aucients, thut they pre- 
ferred it even to gold. 

^ct. ir. 

P L I N Y. 



To Ilispulla. 

r is not easy to determine whether my 
love or esteem were greater fur that 
wise and excellent wiaii your father: but 
this is most eertaiii, that in respeel to his 
memory and your virtues, 1 have the teu- 
derest value tor you. Can I fail then to 
wish (as I shall by ever}' means in my 
power endeavour) that your son may 
copy the virtues of both his grandfathers, 
particularly his maternal ? as indeed his 
father and his uncle w ill furnish him also 
with very illustrious examj)les. The suix-st 
inethotl to train him up in the steps of 
these valuable men, is early to season his 
mind with jmlite learning and useful 
knowledge; and it is of the last conse- 
i|uencc from whom he receives these in- 
structions. Hitherto he has had his edu- 
cation under your eye, and in your house, 
where he is exposed to few, 1 should ra- 
ther say to no wrong impressions. But 
lie is now of an age to be sent from 
liume, and it is time to place him with 
suiuc professor of rhetoric; of whose dis- 
cipline and method, but above all, of 
wliosc! morals, you may be well satisfied. 
Among the many advantages for which 
this amiabli' youth is indebted to nature 
and fortune, he has that of a most beau- 
tiful person: it is necessary, therefore, in 
this loose and slippery age, to find out 
one who will not only be his tutor, but 
his guardian and his guide. I will ven- 
ture to recommend Julius Geiiitor to you 
under that character. I love him, I con- 
fess, extremely : but my aiVection does 
by no means prejudice my judgment; on 
the contrary it is, in truth, the etlect of 
it. Plis behaviour is grave, and his mo- 
rals irreproachable ; perhaps something 
to(j severe and rigid for the libertine 
manners of these times. His qualifica- 
tions in his profession you may learn 
front many others; for the art of elo- 
quence, as it is open to all the world, is 
soon discovered; but the qualities of the 
heart lie more concealed, and out of the 
reach of common observation; and it is 
on tliat side I undertake to be answerable 
for my friend. Your son will hear no- 
thing from this worthy man, but what 
will be for his advantage to know, nor 
learn any thing of which it would be 
tiappier he should be ignorant. He w ill 
repruscat to him as oftco, and witli as 

much zeal as you or I should, the virtues 
of his family, and what a glorious weight 
of characters he has to support. Yon 
will uot hesitate then to place him with 
a tutor, whose first care w ill be to form 
his maiiuers, and afterwards to instruct 
him in eloquence ; an attainment ill ac- 
quired if with the neglect of moral im- 
piuvements. Earewel. 


To Maccr. 

I HAVE the pleasure to find you are «<♦ 
great an admirer of my uncle's works, 
as to wish to ha\e a complete collection 
of them, and for that purpose desire uic 
to send you an account of all the treatises 
he wrote. I will point them out to you 
in the order in which they were com- 
posed; for however immaterial that may 
seem, it is a sort of information not at all 
unacceptable to men of letters. The 
first book he published was, a treatise 
concerning The Art of using the Javelin 
on Horseback: this he wrote when we 
commanded a troop of horse, and it is 
drawn up with great accuracy and judg- 
ment. The Life of Pomponius Secundus, 
in two volumes : Pomponius had a very 
great afiectioi) for him, and he thought 
lie owed this tribute to his memory. 
The Histon- of tlie Wars in Germany, in 
twenty books; in which he gave an ac- 
count of all the battles we were engaged 
in against that nation. A dream which 
he had when he served in the army in 
Gcrmanv, first suggested to him the de- 
sign of this work. He imagined that 
Drusus Nero (who extended his concjuests 
very far into that country, and there lost 
his life) appeared to him in his sleep, 
and conjured hiin not to sufier his me- 
mory to be buried iu oblivion. He has 
left us likewise A Treatise upon Elo- 
quence, divided into six volumes. In 
this work he takes the orator from his 
cradle, and leads him on till he has car- 
ried him up to the highest point of per- 
fection in this art. Li the latter part of 
Nero's reign, when the tyranny of the 
times made it dangerous to engage in 
studies of a more free and elevated spirit, 
he published a piece of criticism in eight 
books, concerning ambiguity in expres- 
sion. He has completed the history 
which Aufidius Bassus left unfinished, and 
has added to it thirty bool:.s. And lastly, 
he has left thirty-seven books upon the 
subject of Natui-al liistory : this is a work 




l^ook I. 

of ijreat compass and learning, and almost 
as tull of variety as Nature herself". You 
will wonder how a man so engaged as he 
wa-s, ( ould find time to compose such a 
number of books, and some of tliein too 
upon abstruse subjects. But your surprise 
will rise still higher when you hear, that 
for some time he engaged in the profes- 
sion of an advocate, that he died in his 
fifty-sixth year: that from the time of 
his quitting the bar to his death, he was 
employed in the execution of the highest 
posts, and in the service of his prince. 
But he had a ([uick apprehension, joined 
to unwearied application. In summer he 
always began his studies as soon as it was 
night*, in winter generally one in the 
morning, but never later than two, and 
©ften at midnight. No man ever spent 
less time in bed, insomuch that he would 
sometimes, without retiring from his 
books, take a short sleep, and then pur- 
sue his studies. Before day-break he used 
to wait upon Vespasian ; who likewise 
chose that season to transact business. 
When he had finished the aftkirs which 
that emperor committed to his charge, 
he returned home ajrain to his studies. 
After a short and light repast at noon 
(agreeably to the good old custom of our 
ancestors), he would frcfjuently in the 
summer, if he was disengaged from busi- 
ness, repose himself in the sun; during 
which time some author was read to him, 
from whence he made extracts and obser- 
vations, as indeed this was hi.s constant 
method whatever book he read; for it 
was a maxim of his, that " no book 
" was so bad, but something might be 
" learned from it." ^A'^hen this was over, 
he generally went into the cold bath, 
and as soon as he came out of it, just took 
a slight refreshment, and then reposed 
himself for alittle while. Thus, as if ilhad 

* The distribution of time among the Romans 
was extremely different from tlic method in use 
amongit us. Tiiey measured the night into four 
equal parts, which they called -xalchci, each con- 
taining the space of tii/tc hoursj and paitofthese 
they devoted either to tiie pleasuresof tlie table or 
to study. The natural daythcy divided into twelve 
hours, the first beginning with sun-rise, and the 
last ending with sun-set : by which means tlieir 
tours were of unequal length, varj-ing according 
to the different seasons of the year. The time 
for business began with sun-rise, and continyed 
to the fifth hour, being that of dinner, which 
with them was only a slight repast, From thence 
to the se^•enth hour was a time of repose : a lus- 
tom which still prevails in Italy. The eighth 
bour was employed in bodily exercises; after 
which they constantly bath^d^ and from thence 
went t» supper. 

been a new day, he immediately resumed 
his studies till supper time, when a book 
was again read to him, upon which lie 
would make some hasty remarks. I re- 
member once his reader having pronoun- 
ced a word wrong, somebody at the table 
made him repeat it again: upon which 
my uncle asked his friend if he understood 
it) Who replying, "Yes;" " Why 
" then," said he, " would you make 
" him go back again ? We have lost by 
" this interruption above ten Hives:" so 
covetous was this great man of time ! In 
summer he always rose from supper by 
day-light, and in winter as soon as it wa.s 
dark; and this was an invariable law 
with him. Such was his manner of life 
amidst the noise and hurry of the town ; 
but in the country his whole time was 
devoted to study without intermission, ex- 
cepting only when he bathed. But in 
this exception I include no more than the 
time he was actually in the bath ; for all 
the while he was rubbed and wiped, he 
was employed either in hearing some 
book read to him, or in dictating himself. 
In his journeys he lost no time from his 
studies, but his mind at those seasons be- 
ing disengaged from all other thoughts, 
applied itself wholly to that single pursuit. 
A secretary T constantly attended him in 
his chariot, who, in the winter, wore a 
particular sort of warm gloves, that the 
sharpness of the weather might not occa- 
sion any interruption to liis studies; and 
for the same reason my uncle always used 
a chair in Rome. I remember he once 
reproved me for walking: "You might," 
says he, "emplo)' those hours to more ad- 
" vantage ;" for he thought all was time 
lost that was not given to study. By 
this extraordinary application he found 
time to write so many volumes, besides 
one hundred and sixty which he left me, 
consisting of a kind of common-place, 
wrote on both sides in a very small cha- 
racter; so that one might fairly reckon 
the number considerably more. I have 
heard him say, when he was comptroller 
of the revenue in Spain, Largius Licinius 
oHered him four hundred thousand ses- 
terces? for these manuscripts; and yet 
they were not then quite so numerous. 
When you reflect upon the books lie has 
read, and the volumes lie has wrote, ar© 

f The word in the original implies a person 
wlio wrote short-hand ; an art which the Ro- 
mans carried to its highest i^erfection. 

+ About 3200/. of our money. 


Sect. II. 

P L 1 N Y. 


you not inclined to suspect that he never 
was engaged in the alHiirs ot the public, 
or the service of his prince? On the other 
hand, when you are informed how inde- 
fatigable he was in his studies, are not 
you disposed to wonder that he read and 
wrote no more? For, on one side, what 
obstacles would not the business of a court 
throw in his way? And on the other, 
what is it that such intense application 
might not perform ? 1 cannot but smile, 
therefore, when I hear myself called a 
studious man, who in comparison to him 
am a mere loiterer. But why do I men- 
tion myself, who am diverted from these 
pursuits by numberless affairs both pub- 
lic and private? Even they whose whole 
lives are engaged in study, must blush 
when placed in the same view with him. 
I have run out my letter, I perceive, be- 
yond the extent I at first designed, which 
was only to inform you, as you desired, 
what treatises he has left behind him. 
But I trust this will not be less acceptable 
to you than the books themselves, as it 
may possibly not only raise your curio- 
sity to read his works, but your emula- 
tion to copy his example by some at- 
tempts of the same nature. Far«wel. 

To Scverus. 

1HAVE lately purchased with a legacy 
that was left me, a statue of Corin- 
thian brass. It is small indeed, but well 
executed, at least if I have any judge- 
ment; which most certainly in matters 
of this sort, as perhaps in all others, is 
extremely defective. However, I think I 
hav^ a taste to discover the beauties of 
this figure: as it is naked, the faults, if 
there be any, as well as the perfections, 
are more observable. It represents an old 
man in a standing posture. The bones, 
the muscles, the veins, and wrinkles, are 
so strangely expressed, that you would 
imagine the figure to be animated. The 
character is well preserved throughout 
every part of the body: the hair is thin, 
the forehead broad, the face shrivelled, 
the throat lank, the arms languid, the 
breast fallen, and the belly sunk ; as the 
whole turn and air of the figure behind 
is expressive of old age. It appears to be 
aatique, from the colour of the brass, in 
short, it is a performance so highly fi- 
nished as to merit the attention of the 
most curious, and to aftbrd, at the same 

time, pleasure to the most common ob- 
server: and tills imluced me, who am a 
mere novice in this art, to buy it. But I 
did so, not with any intent of placing it 
in my own house (I'orl have yet nothing 
of that kind theri-), but with a design of 
fixing it in some conspicuous place in my 
native province, perhaps in the temple of 
Jupiter: lor it is a present well worthy 
of a temple and a god. I desire therefore 
jou would, with that care with whicli 
you always execute my requests, give 
immediate orders for a pedestal to ha 
made for it. I leave the choice of the 
marble to you, but let my name be en- 
graven upon it, and, if you think proper, 
my titles. I will send the statue by the 
first opportunity ; or possibly (which J 
am sure yon will like better) I may bring 
it myself; for 1 intend, if I tan (ind lei- 
sure, to make an excursion to you. Thii 
is a piece of news which 1 know you will 
rejoice to hear ; but you will soou change 
your countenance when I tell you, my 
visit will be only for a few days; lor the 
same business that now detains me here. 
Mill prevent my making a longer stay. 


To Tranquilhis. 

rpHF. obliging manner in which you 
■■• desire me to confer the military tri- 
bunate upon your relation, which 1 had 
obtained of the most illustrious* Neratius 
Blarcelius for yourself, is agreeable to 
that respect with which you always treat 
me. As it would have given me great 
pleasure to have seen you in that post, s« 
it will not be less acceptable to me to 
have it bestowed upon one whom you re- 
commend. For hardly, I think, would 
it be consistent to wish a man advauccd 
to honours, and yet envy him a title far 
nobler than any other he can receive, 
even that of a generous and an allec- 
tionate relation. To deserve and to grant 
favours, is the fairest point of view in 
which we can be placed ; and this ami- 
able character will be yours, if you re- 
sign to j'our friend what is due to your 
own merit. I must acknowledge at the 
same time, I am by this means advancing 
my own reputation, as the world will 
learn from hence, that my friends not 

* This was a title given to all senators, in the 
times of the latter enipcror-;. 



E L E U A :> T }• P I S T L E S. 

Book I. 

only have it in their power to enjoy such 
an honoura])U> post, but to dispose of it. 
I readily therefore eoniply with yiinr gi- 
iierous retjue^t; and as vour name is not 
y»'t entered upon the roll, I can without 
jifftcuily insert Silvanus's in its stead: 
.ind may he accept this fijood office at 
your hands with the same irrateful dis- 
position that 1 am oure you will receive 
mine. Fare we 1. 

To Catilius. 

I ACCEPT of vour invitation to supper; 
but I must nr-ike this agreement be- 
forehand, that vou dismiss me soon, and 
treat mc fru;^ally. Let onr entertniu- 
ment abound only in philosophi'al con- 
rersation; and even that too with mode- 
ration. There are certain midnighV par- 
ties, which Cato himself could not safe- 
ly fall in with; though I must confess at 
the same time, that .Julius Csesar*, when 
he reproaches him upon that head, ex- 
alts the character he endeavours to ex- 
pose : for he describes those persons who 
met this reeling patriot, as blushing when 
thcv discovered Vvho he was; and adds, 
you would have thought that Cato had 
detected them, and not they Cato. Could 
he place the dignity of Cato in a stronger 
light, than by representing him thus ve- 
nerable, even in his cups? As for our- 
selves, nevertheless, let temperance not 
only spread our table, but regulate our 
hours; for we are not arrived at so high 
a reputation, that our enemies cannot 
censure us but to our honour. Farcwcl. 


To Procuhts. 

■«roc desire mc to read your poems in 
^ my retirement, and to examine whe- 
ther they are fit for public view; and aft- 
er Requesting me to turn some of my lei- 
sure hours from my own studies to yours, 
you remind mc that Tally was remark- 
able for liis generous en conragement anrj 
patronage of poetical geniuses. But you 
did not do me justice, if you supposed I 
wanted cither intreaty or example upon 
this occasion, who not only honour the 
mu-jes with the most religious regard, but 

* Julius Cae?ar wrote an invrctivc a<ja;n3t Cato 
of Utica, to which, it is probal)le, Pliny here 

have also the warmest frlcndsliip for 
yourself: 1 shall therefore do what you 
require, with as nmch pleasure ;is care. 
I believe I may venture to declare be- 
forehand, that your performance is ex- 
tremely beautiful, and ought by no means 
to be suppressed ; at least that was my opi- 
nion when I heard you recite it: if in- 
ileeJ your manner did not impose upon 
me; for llie skill a\id harmony of your 
elocution is certainly enchanting. I trust, 
however, the charming cadence did not 
entirely overcome the force of my criti- 
cism; it might possibly a little S((fien its 
severity, but could not t(itally, 1 imagine, 
disarm me of it. I think therefore 1 may 
now safely pronounce my opinion of 
your poems in general : what tliey are in 
their several parts, I shall judge when i 
read them. Earewel. 



To Nepos. 

HAVE frequently observed, thai, a- 
mongst the noble actions and remark- 
able sayings of distinguished persons in 
either scx, those which have been most 
celebrated have not always been the most 
illustrious; and I am confnmed in this 
opinion, by a conversation I had yester- 
day with i'annia. This lady is grand- 
daughter to that celebrated Arria, who 
animated her husband to meet death by 
her own glorious example. She informed 
me of several particulars relating to Arria, 
not less heroical than this famous action 
of her's, though less taken notice of: 
which I am persuaded will raise your ad- 
miration as much as they did mine. Her 
husband Ciecinna P<Etus, and her son, 
were both at the same time attacked with 
a dangerous illness, of which the son died. 
This youth, who had a most beautiful 
person and amiable behaviour, was not 
less endeared to his parents by his virtues 
than by the ties of atlection. His mother 
managed his funeral so privately, that 
Ptetus d id not know of his death. When- 
ercr she came into his bed-chamber, she 
pretended her son ^^■as better: and as 
often as he imjuired after his health, 
would answer that he had rest(!d well, or 
had ate with an appetite. When she 
found she could no longer restrain her 
grief, but her tears were gushing out, 
she would leave the room, and having 
given vent to her passion, return agaiu 
with dry eves and a sercae couuteiiiujce,- 

Sect. 11. 

P L 1 x\ V. 


us Ifslie had (lisiui^sid cv i r\ sentiment o 
sorrow at her eiitr;iiicc. Tlie action* 
was, no doubt, trulv in^hlf, Avhcii draw- 
ing the (I.TLTnor she |j|iiiii(ed it in her 
breast, luul then picseiitcd it to licr hus- 
band with that evt-r lucniorablu, 1 liad al- 
most said, thai di\ iin! I'Xj.ressiou, " Pxtus, 
it is not painful." It nuist howi-vtr hi: 
considereil, w hen alio spoke and acted 
tlius, sht; had the pros[)ect of iniiuortai 
glory l)cfore her eyes to encourage and 
support her. ]5ut was it not something 
much greater, without the view of sucli 
p(jwerful motives, to hide her tears, to 
ronceal her grief, and cliecrfnlly seem 
tiie motlier when she was so no more.'' 

Scribonianus had taken up arms in 11- 
lyria against Clau<lius, where having lost 
liis bfe, Pietus, who was of his party, 
was brought prisoner 1o liome. \\'heii 
they were going to put him on board a 
ship, Arria besought the soldiers that slie 
jnight l)e perniitteil to go with him: 
CertainU', said she, vou cannot reluse a 
uian of consular dignity, as tic is, a few 
ilaves to wait upon him; but if you will 
take me, 1 alone Avill perform their of- 
tice. This favour, however, she could 
not obtain; upon wiiich she liired a 
small fishing ve.ssel, and boldly ventured 
to follow the ship. At her return to 
iKome, she met the wife of Scribonianus 
in the emperor's palace, who pressing 
her to discover all she knew of that iu- 
fcurrection. What ! said she, shall I re- 
gard tliy advice, who saw thy husbaaid 
murdered even in thy very arms, and yet 
.survivest him? An expression which 
plainly shews, that the noble manner in 
^vhich she put an end to her life was no 
unpremeditated etlect of sudden passion. 
"Wlicn Thrasca, who married her daugh- 
ter, vva.s dissuading her from her purpose 
of destroying herself, and, among other 

* The story, as mentioned by several of the 
wnrifiit liistoiiaus, is to this purpoic: Partus 
h;i\ id;^ joined Si'riboniaiuis, wlic was in arms in 
Jllyria against Claudius, was lakcii at'ttr the 
death of the latter, and coiulenuiej to death. 
Ari'ia, having in vain solieiled liis lift, persuaded 
him to destroy hinnelf, rather than su/lcr tlie 
i.Mrnoniiuy of fallind: hy the executioner's hands; 
.nud in order to tiieouvapco hiin to an act, to 
whif.Ii it -cenis lie was not niueli inclined, she set 
him the example in the manner Pliny relates. 

In a pleasuic-house belonging- to tlie Villa 
I-udovisa at Rome there is a fine statue repre- 
fMitiugr il)e action: PaHus is stabbiiii: himself 
with one hand, and holds up the dyini? Arria 
with the other. Her sinking body hangs so 
tOitfQ, as if cvciy joi^it were relaxed. 

;■ arguuicnts which lie used, .said to her. 
Would yon then advise your daut;liter 
to die with me, if my life were to be 
taken from me.' Most cortainlv I would, 
she r-.plied, if she had lived as long and 
*in as much harmony with you, as 1 
have with my I'lttus. This answer 
greatly heightened the alarm of her fa- 
niily.and made them observe her for the 
future more narrowly; which when she 
perceived, she as^nn-d them all their 
caution wouKI be to no purpose. Vou 
may oblige me, said she, to execute mv 
resolution in a \vay that will give ni'e 
more pain, but it is impo.ssibleyou should 
prevent it. She had scarce 'said this, 
^vheii slie sprang from her chair, and 
running her head with the utmost vio- 
lence against the wall, she fell down, in 
appearance de id. But being brought to 
lier.self, I told you, said she, if you would 
not suii'er me to take the easy paths to 
dentil, I should make mv way to it 
through .some more diflicult pa.ssage. 
iSow, is there not, my friend, .something 
much greater in all this, than the so 
much talked of, " P.x'tus, it is not pain- 
ful?" to which, indeed, it seems to have 
led the way : and yet this last is the fa- 
vourite topic of fame, while all the for- 
mer are pas.sed over in profound silence. 
Whence 1 cannot but infer, what I ob- 
served in the beginning of my letter, that 
the most famous y.ctions are not always 
th« most noble. I'arewel. 


To SL-rviaims. 

rr\) what shall I attribute your long 
J- silence? Is it want of health, or 
waul of leisure, that prevents your writ- 
ing? Or is it, perhaps, that you have 
no opportunity of conveying vour let- 
ters? Free me, I intreat you, from the 
perplexity of these doubts ; for thev are 
more, be assured, than I am able to sup- 
port; and do .so, even though it be at 
theexpenccof an express messenger: I 
will gladly bear his charges, and even 
reward him too, should he bring me the 
news I wish. As for myself, 1 a;n well ; 
if that, with an\" propriety, can be said 
of a man who lives in the utmost sus- 
pense and anxiety, under tlie apprehen- 
sions of all the accidents which can 
possibly bcfal the friend ht- mi>st tenderly 
loves. Earewel. 


E L E G A N T E P I S T E E S. 

lkK)k L 

To Maximus. 

You remember, no rlnubt, to have road 
what conimotions were occasioned 
bv tlie law which directs that the elec- 
tions of magistrates shall be by ballotin}:^, 
and how much the author * of it was 
both approved and condemned. Yet 
this very lawthescnate lately unanimous- 
ly received, and upoi\ the election day, 
w ith one consent, called for the ballots. 
It must be ownc<l, the method by open 
Toles had introduced iiUo the senate 
more riot and disorder than is seen even 
in the assemblies of the people ; all order 
in speaking, all decency of silence, all 
dignity of character, was broke through ; 
and it was universal dissonance and cla- 
mour ; here, the several candidates run- 
ning from side to side with their patrons; 
there, a troop collected together in the 
middle of the senate-house ; and, in short, 
the whole assembly divided into separate 
parties, created the most indecent con- 
fusion. Thus widely had we departed 
from the manners of our ancestors, who 
conducted these elections with a calmness 
and regularity suitable to the reverence 
•which is dueto the majesty of the senate. 
I have been informed by some who re- 
member those times, that the method 
•bserved in their assemblies was this; the 
Ramc of the person who oftered himself 
for any office being called over, a pro- 
found silence ensued, when immediately 
the candidate appeared, who after he had 
spokenfor himself, and given an account 
to the senate of his life and manners, 
called witnesses in support of his cha- 
racter. These were, either the person 
under whom he had served in the army, 
or to whom he had been Queestor, or 
both (if the case admitted of it); to whom 
he also joined some of those friends who 
espoused his interest. They delivered 
what they had to say in his favour, in 
few words, but witli great dignity : and 
this had far more influence than the mo- 
dern method of humble solicitation. 

* The author of tlils law was one Gabinius, a 
tribune of the people, A. U. 614. It gave a very 
«onsi<lerable blow to the intiuence of the nobility, 
as in this way of balloting, it could not be dis- 
covered on which side the people gave their votes, 
and consequently took oil' that restraint they 
ketbre lay under, bj the fear of ©fftiidiijif khtir 

Sometimes the candidate would object 
either to the birth, or age, or character 
of his competitor; to which the senate 
would listen with a severe and impartial 
attention; and thus was merit generally 
preferred to interest. But corruption 
having abused thiswise institution of our 
ancestors, we were oblig^l to have re- 
course to the way of balloting, as the 
most probable remedy for this evil. The 
method being new, and immadiately put 
in practice, it answered the present pur- 
pose very well: but, lam afraid, in pro- 
cess of lime it will introduce new incon- 
veniences; as this manner of balloting 
seems to aflbrd a sort of screen to injustice 
and partiality. For how few are there 
w ho preserve the same delicacy of con- 
duct in secret, as when exposed to the 
view of tiie world? The truth is, the 
generality of mankind revere Fame more 
than Conscience. But this, perhaps, 
may be pronouncing too hastily upon a 
I'uture contingency: be it therefore as it 
may, we have in the mean time obtained 
by this method an election of such ma- 
gistrates as best deserved the honour. 
For it was with us as with those sort of 
judges who are named upon the spot, 
we were taken before we had time to be 
biassed, and therefore determined im^ 

I have given you this detail, not onlj 
as a piece of news, but because I am glad 
to seize every opportunit}^ of speaking 
of the republic; a subject, which as we 
have fewer occasions of mentioning thin 
our ancestors, so we ought to be more 
careful not to let any of them slip. In 
good earnest, I am tired with repeating 
over and over the same compliments, 
IIow d' ye do? and I hope you are well. 
Why should our letters for ever turn 
upon trivial and domestic conceras? It 
is true, indeed, the direction of the pubr 
lie weal is in the hands of a single per- 
son, who, for the general good, takes 
upon himself solely to ease us of the care 
and weight of government ; but still that 
bountiful source of power permits, by a 
very generous dispensation, some streams 
to flow down to us : and of these we 
may not only taste ourselves; but thus, 
as it were, administer them to our absent 
friend*. Earewftl. 

Sect. II. 

P L I N Y. 



To Fabatus. 

^ov have long desired a visit from your 
"*- gratid-d;iugluer * and mvsclf. No- 
thing, he assured, could be more agree- 
able to us both ; tor \v(; etjuallv wish to 
see you, audarc deterniiued to delay that 
pleasure no longer. Tor this purpose, 
our baggage is actually making ready, 
and we are hastening to you with all the 
expedition the roads will permit. We 
shall stop only once, and that for a short 
time ; intending to turn a little out of the 
way in order to go into Tusv.anv ; not 
for tiie sake of looking upon our estate 
and into our family concerns, for that wc 
could defer to another opporl unity ; but 
to perform an indispensable duty. There 
is a town near my estate, called Tittr- 
num-upon-the-Tiber-f-, which put itself 
under my patronage when I was yet a 
youth. These people enter extremely 
into my interest, celebrate mv arrival 
among them, express the greatest concern 
when I leave them, and, in short, give 
every proof of an affection towards me, 
as strong as it is undeserved. That I 
may return their good offices, (for what 
generous mind can bear to be excelled in 
acts of friendship?) I have built a tem- 
ple in this place, at my own expence; 
and as it is finished, it would be a sort of 
impiety to omit the dedication of it any 
longer. We design, therefore, to be 
there on the day that ceremony is to be 
performed, and I have resolved to cele- 
brate it with a grand feast. We mav 
possibly continue there all the next dav, 
but we shall make so much the mote ex- 
pedition upon the road. May we have 
the happiness to find you and your 
daughter in good health! as I am sure 
we shall in good spirits, if you see us 
safely arrived. I'arewel. 


To Clemens. 

pEGULus has lost his son; and it is 
-*•'■ perhaps the only undeserved misfor- 
tune which could have befallen him ; for 
I much doubt w hether he thinks it one. 
The boy was of a sprightly but anlbi- 
yuous turn ; however, he secured capable 

* Calphurnia, Plinj^'s wife. 
j- Nuw C:tta di C'astollo. 

enough of steering right, if he could have 
avoided splitting upon his father's exam- 
ple. Regulus gave iilm his freedom J, 
in order to entitle him to the estate leit 
him by his mother; and when he got 
into possession of it, endeavoured (as th« 
character of the man made it generally 
believed) to wheedle him out of it, by th« 
mostsingular and indecent complaisance. 
This perhaps you w ill scarce think cre- 
dible : but if you consider Regulus, j-oa 
will not be long of that opinion. How- 
ever, he now expresses his concern forth* 
loss of this youth in a most outrageous 
manner. The boy had « great nundier 
of little coach and saddle horses; dog3 
of different sorts, togetlw^r with parrots, 
black-birds, and nightingales § in abun- 
dance: all these Regulus slew|| round 
the funeral pile of his son, in the osten- 
tation of an adlcted grief. Heisvisitecl 
upon this occasion by a surprising num- 
ber of people, who though they secretly 
detest and abhor him, yet ari' as assiduous 
in their attendance upon him, as if they 
w-ere influenced by a principle of real 
esteem and atfection ; or, to speik my 
sentiments in few words, they endeavour 
to recommend themselves to his favour 
by following his example, ile has retired 
to his villa across the Tiber; where he 
has covered a vast extent of ground witli 
his porticos, and crowde;! all the shors 
with his statues: for he blends prodiga- 
lity with covetousness, and vain-glory 
with infam}^. By his continuing there, 
he lays his visitors under the great incon- 
venience of coming to him at this un- 
wholesome season ; and he seems to con- 
sider the trouble thev put themselves to, 
as a matter of consolation. He gives 
out, with his usual absurdity, that he de- 

+ Tlie Romans had an absolute power over 
tlicir cliildren, of which no age or station of the 
la.ter Jeprived them. 

§ Tliis bird was much esteemed among nice 
caters, and was sjhl at a hif;h price. Horace 
mentions, as an instance of great extravagance, 
two brothers wlio used to dine upon tliem : 

QuinU pwj.enies Arri, par nohile fralrum 

Luscimai soliri impcnso praiiderc coiintas. 

L. 2. Sat. 3. 

A noble pair of brothers 

On nigtjtingales of monstrous purchase din'd. 
JIr. Francis. 

|] From an unaccountable notion that pre- 
vailed among the ancients, that the ghosts de- 
lighted in blood, it was customaiy to kill a great 
number of b-^a^ts, and throw them on the fune- 
ral pile. In the more ignorant and bnrbarous 
ages, men were the wubupp)' victims of this hor- 
rid rite. 

(r 2 si«rn3 


E L i: c; A N T !•: i' i s t l e s. 

liook r. 

cicrn<5 to marrv. You must expfct, tlicro- those spccii^s of poetry. Is it possible, 
foro, to hear shortly of the weddint^ of :i that ;i Roman t:i!i write (ncek in sa 
:nan opprest with sorrow and years; t^ much perfection r I protest 1 (h) not he- 
is, of one who marries both too soon and fu'Vi- Athens hi'rs<»lf <-in l)e more Attic, 
too hite. Do von ask me why I conjee- To own the trnlli, 1 cannot but envy 
turethns? Certainly, not because he af- CJreccf the honour of your preference, 
firms it himself (tor never was there so And since yon can write thus eleirantly 
infai\K>nsa li^r), but because there is no in a lorei<j;n lan^uacje, it is past conjee- 
doubt that He<;ulus will do every thing ture what yon coidd have [)erformed in 
lie oii<jht not. Farcwel. vour on n. laicwel. 


L E T T i: R XXXVI. 

To Antoninux. 

T:i\T you have twice enjoyed tlic dipf- 
nitv of consul, with a conduct eijwal 
to that of our most illustrious ancestors; 
that tew (vonr modesty will not sulli?r 
me to say none) ever have, or ever will 
come up to the integrity and wisdom <>f 
your Asiatic administration ; that in vir- 
tue, in authority, and even in years, yon 
are the first of Romans; these, most cer- 
tainly, are shinini^ and noble parts of 
your character; nevertheless, I own it 
is in your retired hours that I most ad- 
mire you. To season the severity of 
business with the sprightliness of wit, 
and to temper wisdom with politeness, is 
as dilVicult as it is gi*eat ; yet these un- 
common (jualities vou have most happily 
united in those wonderful charms, which 
not only grace vour conversation, but 
particularly distinguish your writings. 
Your lips, like tlie venerable old man's 
in Homer*, drop honey, and one would 
imagine the bee had diffused her s\\eet- 
ness over all you com[»ose. These were 
the sentiments I had when I lately read 
your (ireek epigrams and satires. What 
elegance, what beauties shine in this col- 
lection I how sweetly the numbers flow, 
and how exactly are they wrought up in 
the true spirit of the ancients! What a 
vein of wit runs througii every line, and 
how conlormable is the whole to the 
rules of ju'<t criticism I I fancied I had 
got in my hands Calliinachus or Ihsiod ; 
or, if possible, sojue poet even superior 
to these; though indeed, neither of those 
authors excelled, as you have, in botli 

Td Koct airo y'/.xcTr^i a^Atrof yy.v/.i'xy zav 
ciJir,. 11. I.<2.f7. 

rxperifnc'd .Vstor, in [icrsna'^ioD skill'd; 
Words aweet iis howey injw Ins lips distill'd. 

Po r£. 


To Xdsci. 

STORM of hail, I am informed, has 
destroyed all the produce of niv 
estate in Tuscany; whilst that which I 
have <ui the other side the I'o, though it 
has proved extremely fruitful this season, 
vet Irom the excessive cheapness of every 
tiling, turns to small account. Lauren- 
tiinun is the single y)ossession which 
yields me any advantage. 1 have no- 
thing there, indeed, but a house and gar- 
dens; all the rest is barren sands; still, 
however, my best productions rise at 
Laurentinum. It is there I cultivate, if 
not my lands, at least my mind, and 
f(jini many a composition. As in other 
places I can shew you full barns, so there 
1 can entertain you with good store ol 
the literary kind. Let me advise you 
then, if you wish for a ncver-failing re- 
venue, to ])urchase something upon this 
contemplative coast. I'arevvel. 



To Lcpidits. 

HAVE often told you that Regulus i- 
a man of spirit; whatever lie engages 
in, he is sure to execute it in a most ex- 
traordinary manner. He chose lately to 
be extremely concerned for the loss of 
his son: accordingly he mourned for him 
in a way which no man ever mourned 
before. He took it into his head that he 
Mould have several statues and represen- 
tations of him; immediately all the arti- 
sans in Rome are set to work. Colours, 
wax, brass, silver, ivory, marble, all 
exhibitthe figure of young Regulus. Not 
long ago he read, before a numerous 
audience, a panegyric upon the life of 
his son : a large book upon the life of a 
boy ! then a thousand transcribers were 
employed to copy this curioas anecdote, 


N.ct. II. 

1' I, 1 N V. 


whicli In- dispelled all over the empire. 
He wrote likewise ;iM)rt of circular letter 
to t!ie several Dccurii, to desire tliey 
would choose out one ottlieir order wiio 
Jiad a stroiicj clear voice, to read this eii- 
lofjy to the ptople ; and lam infornud 
it has been (lone accordingly. Had this 
spirit (or whatever else vou Avill call an 
earnestness in execuling all one under- 
takes) heen rightiv applied, what infi- 
nite good might it have produced ! The 
misiortune is, this active cast is generally 
Rlri)nge.>t in men of vicious charactirs: 
tor as ignorance begets rashness, and 
know ledge inspires caution ; so modesty 
is apt lo depress and weaken the great and 
Avell-lormed genius, whilst boldness sup- 
portsand strengthens low and little minds, 
liegulus is a strong proof of the truth of 
this observation: he has a weak voice, 
an awkward address, a thick speech, a 
slow imagination, and no memory; in a 
vord, he has nothing but an extrava- 
gant genius: and yt't bv the assistance of 
this flighty turn and much impudence, 
he passes with many lor a finished orator. 
Herennius Senecio reversed C'ato's de- 
finition of an orator *, and applied it with 
great justness to Regnlus: An orator, 
said he, is a bad niun unskilled in the art 
of speaking. And, in good earnest, C'a- 
to's definition is not a more exact de- 
scription of a true orator, than Scnecio's 
is of the character of this man. Would 
you make a suitable return to this letter, 
let lire know if yon, or any of my friends 
in your town have with an air of pleasan- 
try mouthed (as Demostiiencs calls it) 
this melancholy piece to the people, like 
a stroller in the niaiket-place. For so 
absurd a performance must move rather 
laughter than compassion ; and indeed 
the composition is as puerile as the sub- 
ject, larcwel. 



lo Cornel /Its Tacitus. 

REJOTcr. that you are safely arrived 
in Home; for "though I am always de- 
sirous to see you, 1 am more particularlv 
80 now. I purpose to continue a few 
days longer at mv house at Tusculum, in 

* Cato, as we leani fr'nii Nonius, c.impo<e;l a 
ncati-e upon rhct,o;ic, for the use of his son, 
.vliercin he tlelined nri 'ovator to be, a good man 
skilJeJ ill the art of speaking. 

order to finish a work wliiili I have upon 
my hands. I'or I am afraid, should 1 
put a stop to this design now that it is so 
nearly completed, 1 shall find it diflicult 
to resume it. In the mean while, that I 
may lose no time, i-.endthis letter before 
me, to retjuest a favour of you, w Inch I 
hope shortly to ask in person. iJut he- 
lore 1 inform you what my request is, I 
must let you intolheoccasion of it. Ijeing 
latel}' al Comum, the place of rny nati- 
vity, a young lad, son to one of my 
neighbours, made me a visit. I asked 
him whether he studieil oratory, and 
where? he told me he did, and at Mc- 
diolaiiumf. And why not liere? Be- 
cause (said his father, who came with 
him) we have no masters. "No! (said 
" 1), surely it nearly concerns you who 
" are lathers (and verv opportunely se- 
" veral of the company were so) that 
" your sons should receive their educa- 
" tion here, rather than any where else. 
" 1 or where can they be placed more 
" agreeably than in their own country, 
" or instructed with more safety and less 
" cxpence than at home and under the 
" eveof their parents? Upon what very 
" easy terms might you, bv a general 
" contribution, procure proper masters, 
" if you would only apply, towards the 
" raising a salary for them, the extraor- 
" dinary expence it costs vou fi)r your 
" sons' journeys, lodgings, and whatever 
" else you pay for upon account of their 
" being abroad; as pay, indeed, you must 
" in such a case for every thing. Though 
" 1 have no children myself, yet I shall 
" w illingly contribute to a desii^n so be- 
" nelicial to (what I look upon as a 
" child, or a parent) my country; and 
"therefore I will advance a third part 
" of any sum you shall think proper to 
" raise for this purpose. I would take 
" upon myself the whole expence, were 
" 1 not apprehensive that my benefaction 
" might hereafter be abused and per- 
" verted to private ends; as 1 have ob- 
" served to be the case in several places 
" where public foundations of this nature 
'• have been established. The single 
" means to prevent this mischief is, to 
" leave the choice of the masters entirely 
" in the breast of the parents, who will 
" be so much the more careful to deter- 
" mine properly, as they shall be ob- 
f liged to share the expence of main» 


f Milan. 

" tainm'T 



Book L 

" taining them. Tor though they may 
*' be careless in disposing of another's 
" bounty, they will certainly be cautions 
*' how tlicv apply their own; and will 
" see thai none but those \\ ho deserve it 
*' shall receive my money, when thoy 
" must at the same time receive theirs 
" too. Let my exan)plethen encourage 
" you to unite heartily in this useful de- 
*'sign; and be assured t!ic greater tiic 
" sum my share shall amount to, the 
*' more agreeable it will be tome. You 
"can undertake nothing that willbe 
" more advantageous to your children, 
*' nor more acceptable to your countrv. 
" They will by this means receive their 
" education where they receive their 
" birth, and be accustomed from their 
" infancy to inhabit and ail'ect their na- 
•' tivesoil. May you be able to procure 
" ])rofessors of such distinguished abili- 
" ties, that the neighbouring towns shall 
" be glad to draw their learning from 
" hence; and as you now send your 
" children to foreigners for education, 
" may foreigners in their turn Hock 
•' hither for their instruction." 

I thought proper thus to laj' open to 
you the rise of this ailiiir, that you might 
be the more sensible how agreeable it 
will be to me, if you undertake the office 
I request. I intreat you, therefore, with 
all the earnestness a matter of so mueh 
importance deserves, to look out, amongst 
the great numbers of men of letters 
which the reputation of your genius 
brings to you, proper persons to whom 
we may apply for this purpose; but 
without entering into any agreement 
Vvith them on my part. For I would leave 
it entirely free to the parents to judge and 
choose as they shall see proper : all the 
share I preteud to claim is, that of con- 
tributing my care and my money. If 
therefore any one shall be found who 
thinks himself qualified for the under- 
taking, he maj' repair thither; but with- 
out relying upon any thing but his me- 
rit. Farewel. 


To Valerius Puulinus. 

•nrjoicE with me, my friend, not only 
•Tv upon my account, but your own, 
and that of the public; for eloquence is 
still held in honour. Being lately engaged 
to plead in a cause before the Centum- 
irjri, the crowd was so great that I could 

not get to my place, but in passing by the 
tribunal where the judges sat. And I 
have this pleasing circumstance to add 
farther, that a young nobleman, having 
lost his robe in the press, stood in his vest 
to hear me for seven hours together: for 
so long I was speaking; and with a suc- 
cess equal to mv great fatigue. Come 
on then, my friend, ami let us earnestly 
pursue our studies, nor screen our own 
indolence under pretence of that of the 
public. Never, we may rest assured, will 
there be wanting hearers and readers, so 
long as we can suppl)' them with orators 
and authors worthy of their attention. 


To Gull as. 

•vrou acquaint me that Ccecilius, the 
^ consul elect, has commenced a suit 
against CorrelHa, and earnestly beg me 
to undertake her cause, in her absence. 
As I have reason to thank you for your 
information, so I have to comi) of 
your intreaties: Avithout the first, indeed, 
I should have been ignorant of this aflair, 
but the last was unnecessary, as I want no 
solicitations to comply, where it would 
be ungenerous in me to refuse ; for can I 
hesitate a moment to take upon myself 
the protection of a daughter of Correl- 
lius? It is true, indeed, though there is 
no particular intimacy between her ad- 
versary and me, we are, however, upon 
good terms. It is true likewise, that he 
is a person of great rank, and who has a 
claim to particular regard from me, as he 
is entering upon an ofiice which I have 
had the honour to fill ; and it is natural 
for a nuin to be desirous those dignities 
should be treated with the highest respect, 
which he himself once possessed. Yet 
these considerations have little weight, 
when i reflect that it is the daughter of 
Correllius whom I am to defend. The 
memory of that excellent person, than 
whotn this age has not produced a man 
of greater dignity, rectitude, and good 
sense, is indelibly impressed upon my 
mind. I admired him before I was ac- 
quainted with him; and, contrary to 
what is usually the case, my esteem in- 
creased in proportion as I knew him bet- 
ter: and indeed I knew him thoroughly, 
for he treated me without reserve, and 
admitted me to share in his joys and his 


Sect. ir. 

P L f N Y. 


sorrows, \a his gay and his serious hours. 
When I was but a youth, he esteemed, 
auvl (I will even venture to say) revered 
me as ill had been his equal. When I 
solititcil any post ot" honour, Jie supported 
rue with his interest, and reconunended 
me by hin testiniony ; when I entered 
upon it, he was my introducer and my 
attendant ; when I exercised it, he was 
my guide and my counsellor. In a word, 
wherever my interest was concerned, he 
exerted hiiuselt' with as njucli alacrity as 
if he had been in all his health and vi- 
gour. In private, in public, and at 
court, how olten has he advanced and 
supported my reputation ! It happened 
once, that the conversation before the 
emperor Nerva turned upon the hopeful 
young men of that time, and several of 
the company were pleased to mention me 
with api)lause : he sat for a little while 
silent, which gave what lie said the 
greater weight ; and then with that air 
of dignity, towhidi yon are no stranger, 
I must be reserved, said he, in my praises 
of Pliny, because he does nothing with- 
out my advice. By which single sentence 
he gave me a greater character than I 
would presume even to wish for, as he 
represented my conduct to be always 
such as u isdom must approve, since it 
was wholly under the direction of one of 
the wisest of men. Even in his last mo- 
ments he said to his daughter (as she 
often mentions), I have in the course of 
a long life raised up many friends to you ; 
but there is none that you niav more as- 
suredly depend upon, than Fliny and 
Cornutus A circumstance I cannot re- 
flect upon, without being deeply sensible 
how much it is incumbent upon me, to 
endeavour to act up to the opinion so 
excellent a judge of mankind conceived 
of me. I shall therefore most readily 
give my assistance to (^orrellia in this 
aft'air; and willingly hazard any dis- 
pleasure I ma\' incur by appearing in 
her cause. Though I should imagine, if 
in the course of my pleadings I should 
find an opportunity to explain and en- 
force, more at large than I can do in a let- 
ter, the reasons 1 have here mentioned, 
upon which 1 rest at once my apology 
and my glory; her adversary (whose suit 
may perhaps, as you say, be entirely un- 
precedented, as it is against a woman) 
will not only excuse, but approve my 
conduct, l-'arewel. 

Tu Iliapulla. 

As you arc an exemplary instance of 
tender regard to your family in ge- 
neral, and to your late excellent brother 
in particular) whose all'ection you return- 
ed with an equal warmth of sentiment ; 
and have not only shewn the kindness of 
an aunt, but supplied the loss of a tender 
parent to his daughter*, you will hear, 
1 am well persuaded, with infinite plea- 
siue, that she behaves worthy of her 
father, her grand-father, and yourself. 
She possessesanexcelleat understanding, 
together with a consummate prudence, 
and gives the strongest testimony of the 
purity of her heart by her fondness of 
me. Her aifection to me has given her 
a turn to books; and my compositions, 
which she takes a pleasure in reading, 
and even getting by heart, are conti- 
nually in her hands. How full of tender 
solicitude is she when I am entering upon 
any cause ! How kindly docs she rejoice 
with me when it is over ! While I am 
pleading, she places persons to inform 
her from time to time how I am heard, 
what applauses I receive, and what suc- 
cess attends the cause. When at any 
time I recite my works, she conceals lier- 
self behind some curtain, and with secret 
rapture enjoys my praises. She sings my 
verses to her lyre, with no other master 
but love, the best instructor, for her guide. 
From these happv circumstances I draw 
mv most assured hopes, that the harmony 
be'tween us will increase with our days, 
and be as lasting as our lives. For it is 
not mv youth or mv person, which tira« 
gradually impairs; "it is my reputatioa 
and my glory of which she is enamoured. 
But what less could be expected from one 
who was trained by your hands, and 
formed bv your instructions; who was 
early familiarised und; r your roof with 
all that is worthy and am'iable, and was 
first taught to conceive an aliection for 
me, by the advantageous colours ia 
which you were pleased to represent me? 
And as you revered mymother with all 
the respect due even to a parent, so yott 
kindly directed and cneouraged my in- 
fancy, presaging of me from that early 
period all that my wife now fondly 

* Ciili'hurnia, PliuyV: wife. 
Q 4. imaginrfS 


E L V. (; A X T T. V 1 S T L K S. 

Book I. 

imagines I really am. Accept therefore 
of our mutual tlianks, tiiat you have 
thus, as it were desi<;iu(lly, "formed us 
lor each otlier. i'arewtl. 


To M^txiiiius. 

T HAvr already aei|uaiiited you vi(I) my 
-^ opinion of each uarticLilar part of \ our 
Avork, as I perused it; 1 iimst no\v tell 
you my general thoughts of the whole. 
Jt is astrongand beautiful performance; 
the sentiments aresul)lli:iean(l masculine, 
ftnd conceived in all the variety oi'a preg- 
nant imagination ; the diction is chaste 
and elegant; the figures are ha|)pily 
chosen, and a copious and ditliisive vein 
ol eloquence runs through the w hole, and 
raises a very high idea of the author. 
You seem borne away by the full tide of 
a strong imagination and deep sorrow, 
which nmtually assist and heighten each 
other; for your genius gives sublimity 
and majesty to your passion; and your 
passion adds strength and poignancy to 
your genius. Farewel, 


Inther*: and I am so much the morr 
anxious for his welfare and good conduct, 
as he is the oidy hnincli of the familv 
remaining. You know the softness and 
solicitude of my heart where 1 have nuv 
tentler attachments ; you must not won- 
der then that 1 have many fears where I 
have great hopes. I'arevvel. 




To Vcliiis Cerealis. 

[ow severe a fate has attended the 
daughters of HelvidiusI tliese two 
sisters are both dead in child-bed, after 
having eacii of them been delivered of a 
girl. This misfortune ])icrces me with 
the deepest sorrow ; as indeed, to see two 
such amiable young iadies full a sacrifice 
to their fruitfulncss in the prime and 
flower of their years, is a misfortune 
which I cannot too greatly lament. I 
lament for the unhappy coiidition of the 
poor infants, who are thus become or- 
phans from their birth : I lament for the 
sake of the disconsolate husbands of these 
Ladies; and I lament too for my own. 
The affect ion 1 bear to the memory of 
their late father is inviolable, as my de- 
fence of him in the senate, and all my 
■writings, will witness for me. Of three 
children which survived him, there now 
remains but one; and hisfamily, that had 
lately so many noble supports," rests only 
upon a single person ! It will however, be 
n great mitigation of my aflliction, if for- 
tune shall kindly spare that one, and ren- 
fJer. him worthy of hi^ father and grand- 

To 1 (I lent, 

FiNG engaged lately in a cau<!e before 
the Centum viri, it occurred to me 
that when i was a youth J was also con- 
cerned in one wdiich passed through the 
same courts. I could not forbear, as 
usual, to pursue the reflection my mind 
had started, and to consider if there wer© 
any of those advocates then present, wlio 
were joined with me in the former cause; 
but I found I was the only person re- 
maining who had been counsel in both; 
such changes does the instability of hu- 
man nature, or the vicissitudesof fortune, 
produce ! Death had removed some ; ba- 
nishment others; age and infirmities had 
silenced those, while these were with- 
drawn to enjoy the happiness of retire- 
ment; one was at the head of an army; 
and the indulgence of the prince had ex- 
empted another from the burthen of ci- 
vil enjploymeuts. What turns of fortune 
have I experienced even iumv own per- 
son ! It was eloquence that first raised 
me; it was eloquence that occasioned my 
disgrace; and it was eloquence that ad- 
vanced me again. The friendships of thr 
wise and good at mv first appearance in 
the world, wtw highly serviceable t« 
me; the same friendships proved after- 
ward extremely prejudicial to my interest, 
and now again they are my ornament and 
support. If }ou compute the time in 
which these incidents have happened, ii 
is but a few years; if you number the 

* The famous Ildvidius Prisciis, who sij- 
iiali^cd hiinsL'lf in the sciiate by tlie tVocdoiii of 
liis >puLchcs in tiivunr of lihfitv, dtiriu!; the 
reigns of fialba, Othp, Vitelliu";, and Ves])asiaii ; 
ill whose tinift he was put to death by the ordev 
of the senate, thnnsh rontrary to the inolina- 
tion of tiif eriipi ri>r, who countennandcd tlie 
execntiou : but it was too late, tlic cxceutionor 
Ixaving performed his cifiice befure the njcssengci; 
arrived, 'faciiiis represents hiiii as acting in all 
the various (hitios of social life witli one con- 
sistent tenor of unifo'in virtue; superior to all 
tenijjtations of wcaltli, of iiitlexiUle intesjrity, 
and unbroken couratre, 


Sect. 11. 

P L I N Y. 


events, it seems an age. A lesson that 
will teach us to check both our despair 
aiMt presumption, \\lit'n\ve observe such 
a variety ot revolutions roll round in so 
swift and narrow a circle. It is my cus- 
tom to communicate tt» my friend all my 
thoujj;hts, anil to set before him the same 
rules and examples bv which I regulate 
my <>v. n conduct : and such was my de- 
sign in this letter. 1 arewel. 



To Mdximus. 

MrsTioN'Ei) to }-ou in a former letter, 
that I apprehended tiie method of 
votiu'jf bv ballots would be attended wi,th 
inconveniencies; and so it has proved. 
At the last election of magistrates, upon 
some of the tablets were written several 
pieces of pleasantry, and even indecen- 
cies; in one particularly, instead of the 
name of the candidate, were inserted the 
names of tiiose who espoused his interest. 
The senate was extremely exasperated at 
this insolence ; and with one voice threat- 
ened the vengeance of the emperor upon 
the author. But he lay concealed, and 
possibly might be in the number of those 
who expressed the greatest indignation. 
^\'hat must one think of such a man's 
private conduct, who in public, upon so 
important an allair, and at so solemn a 
time, could indulge himself in such scur- 
rilous liberties, and dare to act the droll 
in the face of the senate.' Who will know 
it? is the argument that prompts little 
and base minds to cominit these indecen- 
cies. Secure from being discovered bv 
others, and unawed by any self-respect, 
thev take their pen and tablets ; and hence 
arise these buUboneries, which arc fit 
onlv for the stage. What course shall we 
take, what retiiedy apply against this 
abuse r Our disorders indeed in general 
have ever}' where eluded all attempts to 
restrain them. But this is a point much 
too high for us, and will be the care of 
that superior power, who bv these low 
but daring insults has daily fresh occa- 
sions of exerting all his pains and vigi- 
lance. Farewel. 


To ycpos. 

THE request you make me, to super- 
vise the correction of my works. 

which yon have taken the pains to collect, 
I shall most willingly comply with ; as 
indeed there is nothing I ought to do 
with more reutliness, especially at vour 
instance. When a man of such dignitv, 
learning, and »lo<]uence, deepiv engaged 
in business, and entering upon the im- 
portant gnvirnment of a province, has 
so good an opinion of mv works as to 
think them worth taking with him, how 
am I obliged to endeavour that this part 
of his baggage mav not seem an useless 
embarrassment! Mv first care therefore 
shall be, that they may attend vou with 
all the advantages possible; and mvnext, 
to supplv you at your return with others, 
which you mav not think un<leserving to 
be added to them ; for I can have no 
stronirer encouragement to enter upon 
some new- work, than being assured of 
finding a reader of vour taste and dis- 
cernment, iarewel. 


To hi fin: lis. 

T HAVP, brought vou as a present out of 
■* the country, a query wliich well de- 
serves the consideration of vour extensive 
erudition. There is a spring which rises 
ina neighbouring mountain, and running 
among the rocks is received into a little 
banqueting-room, from whence, after 
being detained a short time, it falls into 
the Larian lake. The nature of this 
spring is extremely surprising: it ebbs 
and flows regularlv three times a dav. 
This increase and tlecrease is plainlv vi- 
sible, and very eutertainin<r to observe. 
You sit down b\- the side of the fountain, 
and whilst you are taking a repast and 
drinking its water, which is extremelv 
cool, you see it gradually rise and fall. If 
you place a ring, or any thing else at the 
bottom when it is dry, the stream reaches 
it bv degrees till it is entirely covered, 
and then again gently retires from it ; 
and this you may see it do for three times 
successively. Shall we sav, that some 
secret current of air stops and opens the 
fountain-head, as it advances to or re- 
cedes from it ; as we see in bottles, and 
other vessels of that nature, where there 
is not a free and open passage, though 
you turn their necks tlownwards, vet the 
outward air obstructing the vent, thev 
discharge their contents as it were by 
starts? Or may it not be accounted for 




Book L 

tpon the jamc principle as the flux and 
f etlux of the sea r or, as those rivers w hich 
discharge themselves into the sea, meet- 
ing with contrary winds and the swell ot" 
the ocean, are forced back in their chan- 
nels; so may there not be something 
that checks this fountain, for a time, in 
its progress? or is there rather a certain 
reservoir that contains these waters in 
the bowels of the earth, which while it 
is recraiting its discharges, the stream 
Hows more slowly and in less (|uantity., 
but when it has collected its due mea- 
sure, it runs again into its usual strength 
and fulness ? or lastly, is there not I 
know not what kind of subterraneous 
poize, that throws up the water when the 
fountain is dry, and repels it when it is 
full r You, who are so well qualified for 
the inquiry, will examine the reasons of 
this wonderful appearance*; it will be 
suflkient for me if I have given you a 
clear description of it, Farewel. 

To Maximus, 


AM deeply afflicted v>ith the news I 
have received of the death of Fannius, 
not only as I have lost in him a friend 
whose eloquence and politeness I ad- 
mired, but a guide whose judgment I 
pursued; and indeed he possessed a most 
penetrating genius, improved and quick- 
ened by great experience. There are 
some circumstances attending his death, 
which aggravate my concern: he left be- 
hind him a will which had been made a 
consider;ible time, by which it happens 
his estate has fallen into the handsof those 
who bad incurred his displeasure, while 
his greatest favourites have no share of it. 
But what I particularly regret is, that he 
has left unfinished a very noble work in 
which he was engaged. Notwithstand- 
ing his full emjjloyment at the bar, he 
had undertaken a history of those per- 
sons who had been put to death or ba- 
nished by Nero; of which he had per- 
fected three books. Thev are written 
with great delicacy and exactness : the 
style is pure, and preserves a proper me- 

J There are several of these periodical foun- 
tains in different purts of the world : as we have 
sonic in England. Laj'-well ne;'.r Torbay is men- 
tioned in the Philosophical Traiisar»ions [No. 
lU'k p. 909.] to ebb and (lowfeverui times every 

diuni between the plain narrative and 
the historical : and as they were very fa- 
vourably received by the public, he w;is 
the more desirous of being able to com- 
plete the rest. The hand of death is ever, 
in my estimation, too severe and too sud- 
den when it falls upon such as are em- 
ployed in .some immortal work. The sons 
of sensualitj', who have no views beyond 
the present hour, tenninate with each 
day the whole purpose of their lives; but 
those who look forward to posterity, and 
enileavour to extend their memories to 
future generations b\^ useful labours; — 
to such, death is always inmiature, as it 
still snatches them from amidst some 
unUnislied design. Fannius, long before 
his death, had a strong presenthnent of 
what has happened : he dreamed one 
night, that as he was in his study with 
his papers before him, Nero cume in, 
and placing hinxself by his side, took up 
the three first books oi'his history, which 
he read through, and then v\eut away. 
This dream greatly alarmed him, and he 
looked upon it as an intimation that he 
should not carry on his history any far- 
ther than Nero had read : and so th« 
event proved. 1 cannot reflect upon this 
accident without lamenting that he 
should not be able to accomplish a work, 
which had cost him so much pains and 
vigilance, as "c suggests to me at the same 
time the thoughts of my own mortality, 
and the fate of my writings: and I am 
])ersuaded the same reflection alarms your 
apprehensions for those in which you are 
employed. Let us then, my friend, 
while yet we live, exert all our endea- 
vours, that death, whenever it arrives, 
may find as little as possible to destroy. 


' To Apollinaris. 

THE kind concern you expressed when 
you heard of my design to pass the 
.sunnner at my villa in Tuscany ■\, and 
your obliging endeavours to dissuade me 
from going to a place which yoii think 
unhealthy, is extremely agreeable to inc. 
I confess, indeed, th» air of that part 

f Tiiis was Pliny's prinnipal seat, lying about 
one hundred and lil'ty miles from Hume, where 
he usuallv resided in the summer season. 


Sect. II. 

P L I N Y. 


of Tuscany which lies towards the coast, 
is thick and unwholesome; but my house 
is ^ituated at a "jreat distance from the sea 
vindcr one of the Apenninc mountains, 
which, of all otiiers, is most esteemed for 
the clearness of its air. but that vou may 
lay axiide all apprehensions upon my ac- 
count, 1 will give you a description of the 
temperature of the climate, tlie situation 
of the country, and thel)eauty of my vil- 
la, which I am persuaded you will hear 
witli as much pleasure as I shall relate. 
The ^^■inlers are severe and cold, so that 
myrtles, olives, and trees of tliat kind 
which delight in constant warmth, will 
rot flourish here; but it produces bay- 
trees* in great |)erfection ; yet sometimes, 
though indeed not oftener than in the 
neighbourhood of Rome, they are killed 
by the sharpness of the seasons. The 
summers are exceedingly temperate, and 
continually attended with refreshing 
breezes, which are seldom interrupted by 
high winds. If vou were to come here 
and seethe numbers of old men who have 
lived to be grand-fathers and great 
grand-fiithers, and hear the stories they 
can entertain you with of their ancestors, 
you would fancy yourself born in some 
former age. The disposition of the coun- 
try is the most beautiful that can be ima- 
gined: figure to yourself an immense 
amphitheatre; but such as the hand of 
natme only could form. Before you lies 
a vast extended plain bounded by a range 
of mountains, whose summits are crowned 
with lofty and venerable woods, which 
supply variety of game: from hence, as 
the mountains decline, they are adorned 
with underwoods. Intermixed with these 
are little hills of so strong and fat a soil, 
that it would be dillicult to find a single 
stone upon them : their fertility is no- 
thing inferior to the lower* grounds; and 
though their harvest, indeed, is some- 
thing later, their crops are as w"ell ma- 
tured. At the foot of these hills the eye 
is presented, w herever it turns, with one 
unbroken view of numberless vineyards, 
which are terminated by a border, as it 
were, of shrubs. From thence you have 
a prospect of the adjoining fields and 
meadows below. The soil of ihe former 

* In the original it is laurus, which the inge- 
nious Mr. Martyn, protVssor of botany in Cain- 
bri<l»'c, has given very strong reasons for believ- 
ing is not tlie same with our laurel, but means 
the bay-tree. 

is so extremely stiff, and upon the first 
ploughing it rises in such vast clods, that 
it is necessary to go over it nine several 
times with the largest oxen and the 
strongest ploughs, before they can be 
thoroughly broken, wliilst the enameled 
meadows produc etrefoil, and other kinds 
of herbage as fine and tender as if it were 
but just sprung up, being couiiuually re- 
freshed by never-failing rills. But though 
the country abounds wi^li great plenty of 
water, there are no marshes; for as it is 
arising ground, whatever water it re- 
ceives without absorbing, runs of! into 
the Tiber. This river, which winds 
through the middle of the meadow-s, is 
navigable only in the winter and spring, 
wlien it transports the produce of the 
lands to Rome; but its cliannel is so ex- 
tremely low in summer, that it scarce 
deserves the name of a river; towards the 
autumn, however, it begins again to re- 
new its claim to that title. You could 
not be more agreeably enlertained, than 
bv taking a view of the face of this coun- 
try from the top of one of our neighbour- 
ing mountains: you would imagine that 
not a real, but some painted landscape 
lay befure you, drawn with the most ex- 
quisite beauty and exactness: such an 
harmonious and regular variety charms 
the ejre which way so ever it throws it- 
self. My villa is so advantageously situ- 
ated, that it commands a full view of all 
the country round; yet you go up to it 
by soinsensible a rise.that you find your- 
self upon an elevation without perceiving 
vou ascended. Behind, but at a great 
distance, stand the Apenninc mountains. 
In the calmest days we are refreshed by 
the winds that blow from thence, but so 
spent, as it were, by the long tract of 
land they travel over, that they are en- 
tirely divested of all their strength and 
violence, before they reach us. The ex- 
position of the principal front of the house 
is full south, and seems to invite the af- 
ternoon sun in summer (but something 
earlier in winter) into a spacious and 
well-proportionetl portico, consisting of 
several members,particularlya porch built 
after the manner of the ancients. In the 
front of the portico is asort of terrace, em- 
bellished with various figures, and bound- 
ed with a box-hedge, from whence you 
descend by an easy slope, adorned with 
the representation of divers animals in 
box aHswering alternately to each other, 
into a lawn overspread with the soft, I 



K L i: G A N r i: P I S T L !• s. 

Eook I. 

Ii; «1 n1nio>t said the liipiul ncantlius* : this 
is snrrouiideil hv ;i walkf inclosed with 
*l<>n<ilecvev-<iri'eiis, shapfd into a variety 
lit" t'nn7i<;. iJevoiid it is ilie (iestatio laid 
«Mjt in tlie t'oimofa cirtiis I. ornamented 
in the miiidle Avith hox cnt info nundier- 
h<s (iifieipot fjgnres, to>^ttlier with a 
jilantatinii of shrubs ])revenied by the. 
5hccTs fiom rnnnin«j np too hi^h : tlie 
Avholc is fenced in >\ ilh a \vall covered by 
box, risinif bv ilitlcrtntrange-^ to the top. 
• Ml the onlsidc of a ^^ail lies a meadow 
ihar owes as many beauties to nature as 
all I have been describing within does to 
srt ; at the end of which are se\eral 
oilur meadows and fields interspersed 
Mith thickets. At the extremity of tlic 
porticostandsa grand dining-room, which 
opens upon one end of the terrace; as 
from the windows there is a very exten- 
sive prospect over the meadows up into 
the country, from whence you also have 
a view of the terrace and such parts of 
the house which project forward, toge- 
ther with the woods inclosing the adja- 
cent hippodrome §. Opposite almost to 
the centre of the portico stands an apart- 
ment something backwards, which en- 
compasses a small area, shaded by four 
plane-trees, in the midst of which a foun- 
tain rises, from whence the water run- 
ning over the edges of a marble bason, 
genily refreshes the surrounding plane- 
trees and the verdure underneath them. 
This apartment consists of alied-chamber 
free from every kind of noise, and which 
the light itself cannot penetrate; toge- 

* Sir William Temple supposes the aranthus 
«if tiie ancients to be what we call pericanthe, 
Mor'ern botanists teiTn it garden bear's-foot ; but 
Mr. Castel in liis obsen'ations upon tliispas-a/c, 
w ith lUDie probability, imagines by its cliaractcr 
here that it rcjcinbles moss. 

f This walic is railed in the original Ambiila- 
tio, as what is translated a Terrace is by I'Jiny 
termed Xystus. The Anibnlatio s.r-ms to be 
what we properly call a walk; the Gestatio was 
a place appropriated to taking of exercise in 
their vehicles, and the Xystus in its original sig- 
nification, accordini to the detinition pjven bj- 
Vitruvius, was a lar.,'e portico wherein tHt athle- 
tic exercises were perfoi-me-1 : though it isplairily 
used in this place tor an open walk, ornamented 
much in the manner of our oM-fashioneJ par- 
terres ; but its being raised above the other walks 
which lay in the front, seems to justify its bcinj; 
called a Terrace. 

X The circus was a place set apart for the ce- 
lebration of several pulilic games, particularly 
the <:hariot-i-3CC. Its foiTn was penerally ob- 
long, having a wall quite round with ranges of 
jeats for the C''nven'ence of spectators, 

^ A part of the garden so calltd. 

iher with a common dining-room that I 
use whenever i have none but familiar 
friends with me. A secoiul portico looks 
upon this little area, and has the same 
prospect with the former I just now de- 
scribed. There is besides another room, 
which being situated close to the nearest 
l)lane-tree, enjoys a constant sh ule and 
verdure: itssidesare incrnsted half wav 
with carved marble, and from thence to 
the ceiling a foliige is painted with l)irds 
intermixed among the branches, which 
has an etll'ct ■.-.itogether as agreeable a? 
that of the carving; at the basisf)f which 
is placed a little fountain, that playing 
thro'i^rh several small pipes into a vase, 
produces a most pleasing murmur. From 
a corner of the portico you enter into a 
very spacious chandler opposite to the 
grand dining-room, which from s<ime of 
its windows has a view of the terrace, 
and from others of the meadow, as those 
in the front look upon a cascade, which 
entertains at once bo'h the eye and the 
ear; for the water falling from a great 
height, foams round the marble l>asoii 
which receives it below. 'J'his room is 
extreuicly warm in winter, being much 
exposed to the sun, as in a cloudy davthe 
heat of an adjoining stove very well sup- 
]ilies his absence. From hence vou y)ass 
through a spacious and pleasant undress- 
ing-room into the cold-bath-room, in 
which is a large gloomy bath : but if 
vou are disposed to swim more at large, 
or in warmer water, in the middle of the 
area is a wide bason lor that purpose, and 
near it a reservoir from whence yon may 
be supplied with cold water to brace 
yourself again, if vou should perceive you 
are too much relaxed by the warm. 
Contiguous to the cold bath is one of a 
middling degree of heat, which enjoys thi^ 
kindly warmth of the sun, but not so in- 
tensely as that of the hot bath, which 
projects fart her. This last consists of three 
several divisions, each of difl'erent degrees 
of heat ; the two former lie open to tlie 
full sun, the latter, though not so much 
exposed to its heat, receives an equal 
share of its light. Over the undrtssing- 
room is built the tennis-court, which by 
mean.i of diflerent circles || admits of dif- 

II These circles were probably n<< other than 
particular marks made rin the tio'ir, the success 
of their play depending on the balls hghtmg in 
such a circle alter it had been struck, which it 
V/as the adversary's tju-.iiit;ss to prevent ; and tin; 


Sect. II. 

P T. I N V. 


ferent kinds of games. Not f;ir from tlie 
baths, is the stair-raso w!ii( li leads totlic 
iir.dosfd portico, at'tir having first passed 
through three apartments: one of these 
looks npon the little area with the four 
plane-trees round it, the other has a sight 
of the meadows, and from tlit; thJrd von 
have a view of several vineyards; so that 
they have as manv dilferent prospects as 
expositions. At one end of the inclosed 
portico, and indeed taken ofV from it, is 
a chand)er that looks upon the hippo- 
drome, the vineyards and the monntains ; 
adjoining is u room which has a full ex- 
posure to the sun, especially in winter: 
from iience runs an apartment that con- 
nects the hippodrome with the house: 
anci such is the form and aspect of the 
front. On the side is a summer inclosed 
portico, which stands high, and has not 
only a prospect of the vineyards, but 
seems almost to touch them. I'rom the 
middle <jf this portico vou enter a dining- 
room cooled by the wholesome breezes 
which come from the Apennine valleys : 
from tlie windows in the hack front, 
which are extrenielv large, there is a pros- 
pect of the vim.'vards, as you have also 
another view of them from the folding- 
doors throtii;h the sMiumer portico : along 
that side of this dining-room where there 
are no windows, runs a private stair-case 
forthegreater convcniencv of servingat 
entertainments: at the farther end is a 
«hanil)er from whence the eve is enter- 
tained with a view of the vineyards and 
(what is equally agreeable) of the por- 
tico. Underneath this room is an in- 
closed portico something resembling a 
grotto, which enjoying, in the midst of 
snmmer heats, its own natural coolness, 
neither admits nor wants the refreshment 
of external breezes. After you have 
passed both these porticos, at the end of 
the dining-room stands a third, which as 
the day is more or less advanced, serves 
«ither for winter or summer use. It leads 
to twodift'erent apartments, one contain- 
ing four chambers, the other three, which 
enjoy by turns both sun and shade. lu 
the front of these agreeable buildings lies 
a very spacious hippodrome*, entirely 

many sorts of exercises this room was made lor 
might be divei'silled by lines or circles on ttic 
walls or floor like the game of tenuis, which 
thoucth it takes up one entire room, uiay scr>-e 
fur '-.everal games of the like nature. 

* 'I'lie Hippodromus, iu its proper significa- 
tion, was a place among the Grecians, set apart 
tor hor>e-racinj and other exercises of that kind. 

open in the middle, })v v.diich means the 
eye, upon vonr first entrance, tikes in 
its whole extent at one view. It is en- 
compassed on every side with plane-trees 
covered with that while their 
heads flourish with their own green, their 
bodies enjoy a borrowed venlure : and 
tliusth'? ivy twining round the trunk and 
branches, spreads from tree to tree, and 
connects them together. I'etween each 
plane-tree are planted box-trees, and be- 
hind these bay-trei's, which blend their 
shade with that of th^- ])lanes. Thisplan- 
tation, forming a straight boundary on 
both sides of the hipjodrome, bends at 
the farther end into astmicirrle, which 
being set round and sheltered with cy- 
press-trees, varies the prospect, and casts 
a rleeper and more gloouiv shade ; while 
the inward circular walks (for there arc 
several) enjoying an open exposure, are 
l)erfumed with roses, and correct, by a 
very pleasing contrast, the coolness of 
the shade with the warmth of the sun. 
Having passed through these .several 
winding alleys, you enter, a straitrht 
walk J, which breaks out into a variety 
of others, divided off by box-hedges. 
In one place j'ou have a little meadow; 
in another the box is cut into a th(>usan(l 
diflerent forms §, sometimes into letters, 


But it seem-! here to he notliiiip: more than a 
particular walk, to which Pliny, perhaps, save 
tiiat name.lVcini its bearing some resemblance in 
its form to the public places so called. 

f " What tlie llederK were, that deserved a 
" ]>lare in asranlen (says Sir William Temple in 
" his Essay on Gardening), I cannot guess, un- 
" less they had sorts of ivy unknown to us." But 
it does not seem necessary to have recourse to 
tliat supposition; for there are two sorts among 
us, which are very beautiful plants, the one 
called the silver-striped ivy, the other the yellow 
variegated ivy. The former, perhni>s, is the i)al- 
leiitcs Hedernc? of Virgil ; which epithet, some of 
the critics, not attending to the diflerent kinds 
of ivy, have injudiciously changed for palantes. 

J Here seems to begin what we properly call the 
Guden, and is the only description of a Roman 
one which is come down to us. Vimil, indeed, 
mentions that of his Corycian friend's, but he 
only gives an account of the plants wiiich that 
contented old man cultivated, without describing 
the form iu which his little spot was laid out. 

§ It is very ivmarkable that this false taste in 
gardening, so justly rejected by modern improve- 
ments in that agreeable art, was introduced 
among the Romans at a time when one should 
little expect to meet with anv inelcgancies in the 
polite refinements of life. Matius, the friend of 
Julius Cfcsar, and peculiar favourite of Augustus, 
of whom there is still extant a letter to Cicero, 
greatly admired for the beauty of its sentiment* 





expressing the name of tlie master; some- 
times that of the artificer; whilst here anil 
thero little obelisks rise intermixed alter- 
nately with fruit-trees : when on a suil- 
den, in the midst of this elegant regula- 
rity, you are surprised with an iniitati<in 
of the negligent beauties of rural nature; 
in the centre of which lies a spot sur- 
rounded with a knot of dwarf plane- 
trees*. Beyond these is a walk inter- 
spersed with the smooth and twining a- 
canthus f, where the trees are also cut 
into a variety of names and shapes. At 
the upper end is an alcove of white mar- 
ble, shaded with vines, supported by four 
*mall Carystian pillars 1. From this bench 
the water gushing through several little 
pipes, as if it were pressed out by the 
weight of the persons who repose them- 
selves upon it, falls into a stone cistern 
underneath, from \vhence it is received 
into a fine polished marble basin, so art- 
fully contrived, that it is always full 
■without ever overflowing. When I sup 
here, this basin serves for a table, the 
larger sort of dishes being placed round 
the margin, while the smaller ones swim 
about in the form of little vessels and 
water-fowl. Corresponding to this, is a 
fount^vn which is incessantly emptying 
and filling; for the water, which it throws 
up a great height, falling back again 
into it, is by means of two openings re- 
turned as fast as it is received. Fronting 
the alcove (and which reflects as great an 
ornament to it as it borrows from it) 
stands a summer-house of exquisite mar- 
ble, whose doors project and open into a 
green enclosure; as from its upper and 
lower windows the eye is presented with 
and expression, is said to have fir.-:t taujfht liis 
couritiyiiien tiiii monstrous uiethod of distorting 
nature, by cutting trees into re-ular forms. 

* Tlie plane-tree was extremely cultivated 
among the Romans upon account of its extraor- 
dinary' shade, and they used to nourisli it with 
wine [Plin. Hist. Nat.] in^-tead of water, believ- 
ing (as Sir Willi;im 'I'emple obsen-es) "this tree 
" lo^ cd that liquor, as well as those who used to 
*' drink under its sliade." 

-f- It is probable the acantlius here mentioned 
is not the same plant with that des<nbed above ; 
it is certain at least there were different sorts of 

X This marble came fromCarystus (now called 
Caristo) inEuiicoa, an island in the Archipelago, 
which has since chansjed its name into Ncp:ro- 
ponfe. From lience likewise, it is said, the Ro- 
mans fetched that famous stone out of which 
they spun a sort of HiconibuitiWc cloth, wherein 
they wiapped the bodies of their dead, and 
thereby preserved their ashes distinct and uu- 
muktd with those of tlie funeral pile. 

a variety of diflerent verdures. Next to 
lliis is a little private closet (which 
tiiough it seems distinct, may be laid into 
the same room) furnished with a couch; 
and notwithstanding it has wintlows on 
every side, yet it enjoys a very agreeable 
gloominess, by means of a spreading viae 
wliiili climbs to the top, and entirely 
overshades it. Here you may lie and 
fancy yourself in a wood, with this dif- 
ference only, that you are not exposed to 
the weather ; in this place a fountain 
also rises and instantly|>|)ears : in dif- 
ferent quarters are disposed several mar- 
ble seats, which serve, as well as the 
summer-house, as so many reliefs after 
one is wearied with walking. Near each 
seat is a little fountain ; and throughout 
the whole hippodrome several small rills 
run murmuring along, wheresoever the 
hand of art thought proper to conduct 
them, watering here and there different 
spots of verdure, and in their progress 
refreshing the whole. 

And now, I should not have hazarded 
the imputation of being too minute in 
this detail, if 1 had not proposed to lead 
you into every corner of my house and 
gardens. You would hardly, I imagine, 
think it a trouble to read the description 
of a place, w liich I am persuaded would 
please you were you to se*^ it ; especially 
as you have it in your power to stop, and 
by throwing aside my letter, sit down as 
it were, and rest yourself as often as you 
think proper. I had at the same time a 
view to the gratification of my own pas- 
sion ; as I confess, I have a very great 
one for this villa, which was chiefly built 
or finished by myself. In a word (for 
\s hy should I conceal from my friend my 
sentiments, whether right or wrong ? ) I 
look upon it as the first duty of every 
writer frequently to throw his eyes upon 
his title-page, and to consider well the 
subject he has proposed to himself; ami 
he may be assured if he closely pursues 
his plan, he cannot justly be thought te- 
dious ; but on the contrary, if he suffers 
himself to be carried off" from it, he will 
most certainly incur that censure. Homer, 
you know, has employed many verses in 
the description of the arms of Achilles, 
as Virgil also has in those of iEneas; yet 
neither of the;n are prolix, because they 
both keep within the limits of their ori- 
ginal design. Aratus, you see, is not 
esteemed too circumstantial, though he 
traces and enumerates the minutest stars: 

S. ct. II. 

P L I N Y. 


for he does nol go out of bis way for that 
purpose, he only follows where hi^ sub- 
ject leads hiui. In the same manner (to 
compare small things with great), if en- 
deavouring to give you an idea of my 
house, I have not wandered into any 
thing foreign, or, as it were, devious, it 
is not my letter which describes, but my 
villa which is described, that is to be 
deemed large, lint not to dwell any 
longer upon this digression, lest I should 
myself be condemned by the maxim I 
have just laid down, I have now infDnued 
you why I prefer my Tuscan villa to 
those which 1 possess atTusculum*, Ti- 
berf, and Pricneste;}:. Besides the ad- 
vantages already mentioned, I here en- 
joy a more profound retirement, as I am 
at a farther distance from the business of 
the town, and the interruption of trou- 
blesome avocations. All is calm and com- 
posed; which contributes, no less than 
its clear air and unclouded sky, to that 
health of body and cheerfulness of mind 
which I particularly enjoy there: both of 
which I keep in proper exercise by study 
and hunting. And indeed there is no 
place which agrees better with all my 
family in gc neral ; I am sure at least, I 
have not yet lost one (and I speak it with 
the sentiments I ought) of all tliose I 
brought with me hither: and may the 
gods continue that happiness to me, and 
that honour to my villa ! Farewcl. 


To Capito. 

••rou are not singular in the advice you 
^ give me to undertake the writing of 
liistory ; it is a work which has been 
frequently pressed upon me by several 
others of my friends; and what I have 
some thoughts of engaging in. Not that 
I have any confidence of succeeding in 
this way; that would be too rashly pre- 
suming upon thesuccess of an experiment 
which 1 have never yet made; but be- 
cause it is a noble employment to rescue 
from oblivion those who deserve to be 
eternally remembered, and extend the re- 
putation of others at the same time that 
ue advance our own. Nothing, I confess, 
so strongly allects me as the desire of a 
lasting name : a passion highly worthy of 

* Now called Frascati, fTivoli, and J Pales- 
trina, all of them situated in the Campagna di 
Roma, aad at no great distance from Roaie, 

the humiiii breast, esjiecially of one, who 
not being conscioMs to himself of any 
ill, is not afraid of being known to pos- 
terity. It is the continual subject there- 
fore of my thoughts. 

By what fair died I too may rai?« my name^ : 

for to that I moilerate my wishes ; the 

And gather round Uie world immortal fafti«, 

is much beyond my hopes : 

" Though yet II" However, the 

fust is suiVicient, and history perhaps is 
the single means that can ensure it to me. 
Oratory and poetry, unless carried to the 
highest point of elocjuence, are talent* 
but of small recommendation to those 
w ho possess them ; but history, however 
executed, is always entertaining. Man- 
kind are naturally incjuisitive, and are so 
fond of having this turn gratified, that 
they will listen with attention to the 
plainest matter of fact, and the most idle 
tale. But besides this, I have an example 
in my own family that inclines me to 
engage in this studj', my uncle and 
adoptive father having actpiired great 
reputation as a very accurate historian ; 
and the philosophers, you know, recom- 
mend it to us to tread in the steps of our 
ancestors, when they have gone before us 
in the right path. If you ask me then, 
why I do not immediately enter upon 
the task r my reason is this : I have 
pleaded some very important causes, and 
(though I am not extremely sanguine in 
my hopes concerning them) I have de- 
termined to revise my speeches, lest, for 
want of this remaming labour, all th« 
pains they cost ine should be thrown 
away, and they with their author be bu- 
ried in oblivion ; for with respect to 
posterity, the work that was never 
finished was never begun. You will think, 
perhaps, I might correct my pleadings 
and write history at the same time. I 
wish indeed I were capable of doing so, 
but they are both such great undertak- 
ings, that either of them is abundantly 
sufiicient. I was but nineteen when I 
first appeared at the bar; and yet it is 
only now at last I understand (and that in 

* Virgil. 1 Georg. sub. iuit. 

II Part of a verse from the fifth ^neid, where 
Menestheus, one of the competitors in the naval 
games, who v/as in some danger of being dis- 
tanced, exhorts his men to exert their utmost 
vigour to prevent such a disgruc* 



E L h c; A N T i: P I S T L M S. 

Book I. 

truth but imprrfcctly) what isf'ssential to not sutTicient rosoUitiou to bear tcstimonv 
a complete orator. How then shall I to truth. I expect then that you pro- 
be able to support the weight of an ail- jiarc the way which you have pointed 
•litional burthen? It is true indocil, his- out to me, and dotermine what subject I 
tory and oratory have in manv points a shall fix upon forniv historv, that whea 
cjencral resemblance ; vet in those verv I am ready to enter upon the task you 

have assiijued nie, I mav not be delayed 
by any new dilliculty. Farewel. 


To Salurninus. 

"«r'>i'ii letter made very diflerent i 
-*- pressions upon me, as it brought i 


things in which thev seem to agree, there 
are several circumstances wherein tjjev 
difter. Narration is common to them 
both, but it is a narration of a distinct 
kind: the former contents itself fre- 
quently with low and vulgar facts; the 
latter requires every thing splendid, ele- 
vated, and extraordinarv: strength and 
nerves is sutVicient in that, but beauty and 

ornament is essential to ^/t/.5: fliecxcellen- news which I both rejoiced and grieved 
cy of the one consists in a strong, severe, to receive. It gave me jdeasure when it 
and close style ; of the other, in a diflii- informed mevou were detained in Rome; 
sive, flowing, and harmonious narration: which though you will tell me is a cir- 
inshort, the words, the emphasis, and the cumstance that affords you none, vet I 
whole turn and structure of the periods, cannot but rejoice at it, .since you assure 
are extremely different in these two arts ; me you continue there upon my account, 
for, as Thucydides observes, there is a and defer the recital of your work till 
wide distance between compositions my return ; for which 1 am greatlv ob- 
which are calculated for a present pur- ligedtoyou. But I was much concerned 
pose, and those which are designed to re- at that part of your letter which njen- 
main as lasting monuments to posterity; tioned the dangerous illness of .Julius 
by the first of which expressions he al- Valeiis; though, indeed, with respect to 
ludes to oratory, and by the other to himself it ought to afiect me with other 
history. For these reasons I am not in- sentiments, as it cannot but bo for his 
clined to blend together two perform- advantage the sooner he is relieved by 
ances of such distinct natures, which, as death, from a distemper of which there is 
they are both of the highest rank, neces- no hope he can ever be cured. But what 
sarily therefore require a separate atten- you add concerning Avitus, who died 
tion; lest, confounded by a crowd of in his return from the province where lie 
diflieTent ideas, I should introduce into had been quaestor, is an accident that 
the one what is only proper to the other, justly demands our sorrow. That he 
Therefore (to speak in our language of died on board a ship, at a distance from 
the bar) I must beg leave the cause mav hk brother whom he tenderly loved, 
be adjourned some time longer. In the and from his mother and sisters, are cir- 
n»ean while, I refer it to your considera- cumstances, which though they cannot 
tion from what period 1 shall commence afiect him now, yet undoubtedly did iu 
my history. .Shall 1 take it up from his moments, as well as tend to 
those remote times which have been heighten the aflliction of those he has 
treated of already by others? In this wav, left behind. Howsevere is the reflection, 
indeed, the materials will be readv pre- that a youth of his well-formed disposi- 
pared to my hands, but the collating ol" tion should be extinct in the prime^iof 
the several historians will be extremely life, and snatched from those high ho- 
troublesome; or shall I write ouiv of the nours to which his virtues, had they been 
present times, and those wherein no other permitted to grow to their full maturity, 
author has gone before me? If so, I may would certainly have raised him ! IIo\*^ 
probably give offence to many, and please dirl his bosom glow with the love of the 
but few. I'or, in an age so over-run with fine arts! How many b(;oks has he 
vice, you will find intinitely more to con- perused! how many volumes has he 
demn than approve; yet your praise, transcribed! but tlie fruits of his labours 
though ever so lavish, will be thought too are now perished with him, and lor ever 
reserved ; and your censure, though ever lost to posterity. — Yet why indulge ray 
so cautious, too protuse. However, this sorrow? a passion which, if we once give 
does not at all discourage mc ; for I want a loose to it, will aggravate every the 


Sect. II. 

]• L I N Y. 


slightest circumstanco. I will put an end 
therefore to my letter, that I inay to tiie 
tv.ais wliich yours lius drawn from ma. 


Tu Fabulus*, 

•xrnvK letter informs me that yon have 
•*■ erected a nuhic public porticof, as 
a memorial of vonrseU" and your son, and 
that the next dav after the ceretnony <>f 
opening of it, you engaged to repair and 
beautify the gates of our city at vour 
own charge: thus it islliat you rise from 
one act of munificence to anotlier! I 
take part, believe me, in every thing 
tliat concerns your gloiv ; which, from 
the alliance that is between us, in some 
degree redounds to mine; and am |)lea.-;ed 
to see the memorv of mv father-in-law 
delivered down to posterity by sucii 
beautiful structures. I rejoice too at the 
honour that hereby arises to our native 
province ; and as every thing that tends 
to her advantage is highlv agreeable to 
me, by what hand soever it may be con- 
ferred; so particularly when it is by 
yours. I have only to desire that Ilcaveu 
would continue to cherish in you this ge- 
nerous frame of mind, and to grant j'ou 
many years in which to exertlt; for your 
bounty I am well persuaded will not ter- 
minate here, but extend itself to farther 
acts of beneficence. Generosity, when 
once she is set forward, knows not how- 
to stop her progress; as the more fa- 
miliar we are with the lovelv form, the 
more enamoured we grow of her en- 
gaging charms. Farcwel. 


To Marcclliiuis, 

J \rRiTE this to you under the utmost 
* oppression of sorrow: the youngest 
daughter of my friend I'undanus is de:id ! 
never surely was there a mure agreeable 

* Grandfatherto Calphurnia, Pliny's wife. 

■f These porticos, wliiuli were oairii'd to an 
extreme degree of magniticeuce, served for va- 
rious use«: ioiuetiiiKS for the assembly of the 
senate, sometimes for stands of the most cnrious 
nierehaiiiize. But the general use they were 
put to was, the pleasure of waikiu,:; in them; 
like the present piazzas in Italy. Here likewise 
wo.ks of geaiui were publicly recited, and the 
philvsophci-i held their dUputations. 

and more amiable young person, or one 
who better deserved to have enjoyed a 
long, I had almost said, an immortal life! 
.She was scarce fourteen, and yet had all 
the wisdom of age and discretion of a 
matron, joined with youthful sweetness 
and virgin modesty. With what an en- 
gaging fondues; did she behave to her 
father! how kindly and respectfully re- 
ceive his friends! iiow affectionately treat 
all tho>,e who in their respective offices 
had 1 he care and education of her ! She 
employed much of her time in reading, 
in wiiich she discovered great strength of 
judgment; she indulged herself in few 
dive:-^ions, and those with much caution. 
With what forbearance, with what pa- 
tience, with what courage did she endure 
her last illness! she complied with all the 
directions of her physicians; she fu- 
couraged her sister and her father; and 
when all her strength of body was ex- 
hausted, sapported herself by the single 
vigour of her mind. That, indeed, con- 
tinued even to her last moments, un- 
broken by the pain of a long illness, or 
the terrors of approacliing death; and it 
is a reflection wliich niukes the loss of 
her so much the more to be lamented. 
A loss infinitolv severe ! and more severe 
by the particular conjuncture in which it 
liaj:)poned ! she was contracted to a most 
worth V youth! the wedding day was 
fixed, and we were all invited, llowsad 
a change from the highest joy to the 
deepest sorrow ! Howshalll express the 
wound that pierced my heart, when I 
heard Fundanus himself (as grief is ever 
finding oat circumstances to aggravate 
its me'ancholv) ordering the money he 
had designed to lay out upon cloaths and 
jewels for her marriage, to be employed 
in myrrh and spices for her funeral ! He 
is a man of great learning and good 
sense, who has applied himself from his 
earliest youth to the nobler and most 
elevated studies; but all the maxims of 
fortitude which he has received from 
books, or advanced himself, he now ab- 
solutely rejects, and every other virtue of 
his heart gives place to all a |)arent's 
tenderness. You will excuse, you will 
even ai>prove his sorrow, when you con-: 
sider what he has lost. He lias lost a 
daughter who resembled him in his man- 
ners, as well as his person, and exactly 
copied out ail her father. If you shall 
think proper to write to him upon the 
subject of £0 reasonable a grief, let me 
H rciuiud 

]■ L L G A N T i: P 1 S T L E S. 

Book I, 

rcHiind you not to nsc the rougher argu- 
ments ot consolation, anJ sucli as seem 
to carrv a sort of reproof" with tlicin, but 
those of kind and sympnthizinu^liumani- 
tv. Time will render him nmre open to 
the dictates of reason: for as a fresh 
wound shrinks back from the hand of the 
suTL^eon, but by degrwes submits to, and 
even requires tlie means of its cure; soa 
mind under the first impressions of a mis- 
fortune shuns and rejects all arguments 
of consolation, biit at length, if applied 
•*s ith tenderness, calmly and willingly ac- 
quiesces in them, iarewel. 

To Sjiurinnn. 

KNOWING, as I do, how much you 
admire the polite, arts, and what sa- 
tisfaction you t.;kc in seeing young men 
of quality pursue the steps of their an- 
cestors, 1 seize this earliest opportunity of 
informing you, that I went to-day ta 
hear Calpurnius Piso read a poem he has 
composed upon a very bright and learned 
subject, entitled the Constellations. His 
numbers, which were elegiac, w-ere soft, 
flowing, and easy, at the same time that 
tliey hud all the sublimity suitable to such 
a noble topic. He varied his style from 
the lofty to the simple, from the close to 
the copious, from the grave to the florid, 
with equal genius and judgnient. These 
beauties were extremely heightened and 
recommended by a most harmoninus 
voice; which a very becoming modesty 
rendered still more pleasing. A confu- 
sion and concern in the countenance of a 
speaker throws a grace upon all he 
utters; for there is a certain decent ti- 
midity, w hich, I know not how, is infi- 
nitely more engaging than the assured and 
self-sufficient air of confidence. I might 
mention several other circumstances to 
his advantage, which I am the more in- 
clined to take notice of, as they are most 
striking in a person of his age, and most 
uncommon in a youth of hisquality ; but 
not to enter into a farther detail of his 
merit, I will only tell you, that when he 
Jiad finished his poem, I embraced him 
with the utmostcomplacency; and being 
persuaded that nothing is a greater en- 
couragement than applause, 1 exhorted 
him to persevere in the paths he had en- 
tered, and to shine out to posterity with 
the same glorious lustre which reflected 

from his ancestors to himself. I con- 
grulnlated his excellent mother, and his 
brother, who gained as much honour by 
the generous allcction he discovered upon 
this occasion, as Calpurnius did by his 
eloquence, so remarkable a concern he 
shewed for him when he began to recite 
his poem, and so much pleasure in his 
success. May the gods grant me fre- 
quent occasions of giving you accounts 
of this nature! for I have a partiality t« 
the age in which I live, and should re- 
joice to find it not barren of merit. To 
this end I ardently wish our young men 
of quality would not derive all their 
glory from the images of their an- 
cestors*. As for those which are placed 
in the house of these excellent youths, I 
now figure them to myself as silently ap- 
plauding and cncouragingthcir pursuits, 
and (what is a sufficient degree of honour 
to them both) as owning and confessing 
them to be their kindred. Farewel. 


To Macer. 

A i,L is well with me, since it is so with 
-**• you. You are happy, I find, in the 
company of your wife and son, and are 
enjoying the pleasures of the sea, the 
freshness of the fountains, the verdure of 
the fields, and the elegances of a most 
agreeable villa; for so 1 judge it to be, 
since he who was most happy ere for- 
tune iiad raised him to what is generally 
esteemtd the highest point of human fe- 
licity, chose it for the place of his retire- 
ment f. As for myself, I am employed 
at my Tuscan villa in hunting and study- 
ing, sometimes alternately, and some- 
times both together; but I am not yet 
able to determine in which pursuit it is 
most difficult to succeed. Farewel. 

* Nunc had the right of using family pic- 
tures or statues, but those whose ancestors or 
theiii?<;lvf;» had borne some of the highest digni- 
ties. So that fb*ijus hnaginis was much the same 
thing among tlic Romans, as the right of bearing 
a coat of arnjs among us. 

f It is supposed by some commentators that 
Pliny alludes here to Nci-va, who being suspected 
by Doniitian, was ordend by that emperor t» 
retire to Tarcntum, where, without any viewiof 
reigning, he quietly sat down in the enjeyment 
of a private life ; otlie« imagine that h« mean* 

Sect. II. 


3 9 


To Paulimis. 

A s I know the humanity with which 
-^ you treat your own servants, I do 
not scruple to confess to you the in(hil- 
gence I shew to mine. I have ever in 
my mind Homer's character of Ulysses, 

Who rul'd Iiis pcopU with a father's love. 

Odys<.j. 11, 

And the very expression* in our language 
for the head of a family, suggests the rule 
of one's conduct towards it. But were I 
naturally of a rough and hardened cast 
of temper, th« ill state of health of my 
freed-manZosimus(who has the stronger 
claim to a humane treatment at my 
hands, as he now stands much in need ©f 
it) would be sufficient to soften nie. He 
is a person oi" great worth, diligent iu 
his services, and well skilled in literature; 
but his chief talent, and indeed his pro- 
fession, is thatofa comedian, wherein he 
highly excels. He speaks with great 
emphasis, judgment, propriety, and 
gracefulness; he has a very good hand 
too upon the lyre, which he understands 
better than is necessary for one of his 
profession. To this I must add, he reads 
history, oratory, and poetry, as well as if 
he had singly applied himself to that art. 
I am the more particular in enumerating 
his qualifications, to let you see how 
many agreeable services 1 receive from 
him. He is indeed endeared to me by 
the ties of a long affection, which seems 
to be heightened by the danger he is 
now in. For nature has so formed our 
hearts, that nothing contributes more to 
raise and inflame our inclination for any 
enjoyment than the apprehension of be- 
ing deprived of it; a sentiment which 
Zosimus has given nie occasion to ex- 
perience more than once. Some years 
ago he straine'd himself so much by too 
vehement an exertion of his voice, that 
he spit blood, upon uhich account I sent 
him into Egypt f; from whence, after a 
long absence, he lateh' returned with 
great bepefit to his health. But Jiaving 

• The Latin word for a master of a family, 
implies a f^iihrr of a family. 

■f The Roman physicians used to send their 
patients iu consumptive cases iuto E^ypt, parti- 
cularly to Alesaudria. 

again exerted himself for several days 
together beyond his strength, he was re- 
minded of liis former malady by a slight 
return of his cough, and a spitting of 
blood. For this reason I intend to send 
him to your farm at Forum-Julii J, hav- 
ing frecjuentlv heard vou mention it as an 
exceeding tine air, and recommend the 
milk of that place as very good in dis- 
orders of this nature. I beg you would 
give directions to your people to receive 
him into vour house, and to supply him 
with what he shall have occasion for; 
which will not be much, for he is so 
temperate as not only to abstain from de- 
licacies, but even to deny himself the ne- 
cessaries his ill state of health requires. 
1 shall furnish him towards his journey 
with what will be sufficient for one of 
his abstemious turn, who is coming 
under your roof. Farewel. 



To Calphurnia^. 

Evr.R was business more uneasy to 
me, than when it prevented me not 
only from attending, but following you 
into Campania 'i. As at all times, so 
particularly nosv, I wish to be with you, 
that I mav be a witness what progress 
you make in your strength and recovery, 
and how thetranquillity, the amusements, 
and plenty of that charming country 
agree with you. Were you in perfect 
health, yet I could ill support your ab- 
sence; for even a moment's uncertainty 
of the welfare of those we tenderly love, 
is a situation of mind infinitely painful ; 
but now your sickness conspires with 
your absence to perplex me with a thou- 
sand disquietudes. I fear every thing 
that can befal you, and, as is usual with 
all under the same terrifying apprehen- 
sions, suspect most, what I most dread. 
Let me conjure you then to prevent my 
solicitude by writing to me every day, 
and even twice a day ; I shall be more 
easy at least while I am reading your 

J Frcjus in Provence, the southern part of 

§ His wife. 

II Where fabatus, Calphurnia's grandfather, 
had a villa. This delightful country is celebrated 
by almost every classic author, aud every modern 
traveller, for the fertility of its so.l, ti.e beauty of 
iti landscape, and the tempcraturij of its air. 
H -2 letters ; 


!• L !• G A N T V. P I S .. E S. 

IJook j_ 

letters; though all my apprehensioiiswill 
again return upon mt tliemoniont 1 have 
perused them, rarcwcl. 

To Calpliurnia. 

•yroxi kindly tell me, my ahsoncc is 
-*■ greatly uneasy to you, and that your 
only consolation is iiiconv«rsiiigwithmy 
■works, instead of their author, which 
you tVequcntly phice by your side. How 
agreeable is it to me to know that vou 
thus wisli for my company, and support 
yourself under the want of it by these 
tender amusenRuts! In return, I enter- 
tain myself with reading over your let- 
ters again and again, arid am continually 
taking them up as if I had just received 
tiiem ; but, alas I tiiey only serve to make 
jaie more strongly regret your absence; 
for how amiable must her conversation 
be, whose letters have so many charms? 
Let me receive them, however, as often 
as p<issible, notwithstanding there is still 
a mixture of pain in the pleasure they 
alibrd me. Farcwel. 


To Alb inns, 

T WAS lately at Alsium*, where my 
-■■ wife's mother has a villa which once 
belonged to Verginius Rufus. The place 
renewed in my mind the sorrowful re- 
membrance of that great aud excellent 
man. He was extremely fond of tin's 
retirement, and used to call it, "the nest 
*' of his old age." Wherever I turned 
my eyes I missed my worth}^ friend. I 
had an inclination to visit his monument; 
but I repented of my curiosity, for I founcl 
it still unfinished ; and this not from any 
difficulty of the work itself, for it is very 
plain, or rather indeed slight, but through 
the neglect of him to whose care it was 
entrusted. I could not see without a 
concern mixed with indignation the re- 
mains of a man, whose fame filled the 
whole world, lie for ten years after his 
rleath without an inscription or a name. 
He had however directed that the divine 
and immortal action of his life should be 

* Xo\ir Afzia, not far iVom Coma. 

recorded u[)on his tomb in the following 

Here Rufus lies, wiio Vindex' arms withstood, 
Not fur hiuisrlf, but tor his cuuutry's good. 

But a faithful friend is so rare to \w 
found, and the dead are so often forgot- 
ten, that we shall be obliged to btiild 
evt;nour verv monuments, and anticipate 
the olVice of our heirs. For who is it 
that has not reason to fear what has hap- 
pened to Verginius, may be his own 
case? an indignity which is so nmch 
the more remarkable and injurious, as it 
falls upon one of hisdistinguisheU virtues. 
Fare we I. 

To Muxiinus. 


'ow happy a day did I lately passf 
when having been called by the 
praefectf of Rome to his assistance in a 
certain cause, I had the pleasure to hear 
two excellent young men, Fuscus Sali- 
nator and Nuniidius Quadratus, plead on 
the opposite sides; both of them of ex- 
traordinary hopes and great talents, who 
will one (lay, I am persuaded, prove an 
ornament not only to the present age, 
but to literature itself. They discovered 
upon thisoccasion an admirable probity, 
supported by inflexible courage: their 
habitwasdeceut, their elocution distinct, 
their voice manly, their memory strong J; 


f An officer something in the natin-e of the 
lord mayor aiHong iis. He preceded all other 
eity magistnites, haviiij? power to reci^v e appeals 
from the inl'erior courts, and to decide ahnost all 
eau cs wiihiu the limits of Rome, or a hundred 
miles round. 

X Strcijyth of memory seems to have been a 
quality hi;rhly esteemed aniouc; the Romans, 
J'liny often ment.iouino- it when he draws the 
eharactcvs of his frirnds, as in the number of 
their mo>t*hininK talents. And Qninlilian con- 
sideis it as the nieasui-^ of genius ; tanliim /ii'^enii, 
says he, quantum mcihor'tT, Tlie extraordinary 
perfection in wliich souie of the ancients are 
said to have posses r:d this useful faculty is al- 
most incredible. Our author speaks, in a for- 
mer ier'er, of a firct-k phiioso])hiT of liis ac- 
quaintancp, who, after hnvin^ delivered a long: 
harangue extcnipfire, wowld innnediatcly repeat 
it again, without losuig a single word. .Seneca 
says, he could in his youth repeat two thousand 
uames exactly in the same order they were read 
to him ; and that to try the strength of his me- 
mory, the audieni^c who attended the same pro- 
fessor with himself, wou'd eacli of tiietn give him 
a verse, which he would instantly repeat, begin- 
ning with the last, and so on till the first, to the 


. >'f. ir. 

V I, I N Y 


tlicir genius elevated, and guided hv ;iii 
f(|iial solidity ot" judgment, I took in- 
thiiie pleasure in <)l)seivingtheni displav 
these noble c|ualities; particularly as I 
had the satisfaction to see that while they 
looked upon nie as their guide and mo- 
del, they appeared in the sentiments of 
the audience as my imitators and rivals. 
It Masuday (I cannot hut repeal it again) 
which alioriied nie the most exijuisite 
happiness, and which I shall ever distin- 
guish with the fairest mark *. Tor what 
indeed e<ndd he eitiier more pleasing to 
me on the public account, than to ob- 
serve two such noble youths building 
their fame and glorv upon the polite arts, 
or more desirable upon my own, than to 
be marked out as a worthy example to 
them in their pursuits of virtue? May 
heaven .^till grant me the continuance of 
that pleasure! AntJ you will bear me 
witness, I sincerely implore the gods 
that every man who thinks me deserving 
of his imitation, mav far exceed the mo- 
del he has chosen. I'arewel. 


To Mauri CHS. 

TN compliance with your solicitation, I 
■*■ consent to make you a visit at vour 
Formiau villa, but it is upon condition 
that you put yourself to no inconvenience 
upon my account; a condition which I 
shall also strictly observe on my part. It 
is not the pleasures of vour sea and vour 
coast that I pursue: it is vour companv, 
together with ease and iVcedom from bu^ 
siiiess, that I desire to enjoy ; otherwise 

amount of two\ d. He tells a pleasant 
story upon tliis oocusioii of a rcit:iin poet, wiio 
liaviiia: leeitod a poem in puMic, a pcrsun who 
was present claimed it for liis own, and in proof 
wfits being so, repeated it word for word; wliicli 
the real anUior was not capable of Xuin- 
herless instances niij;iit be collected from the 
ancients to the same pnip-ise; to uicntioii only 
a few move : It is said of Themistoclcs, tliat he 
made himself master of the Persian lang\i:ige in 
a year's lime ; of Mithvidates, that he undei-stood 
as many languages as he counnanded nation-:, 
that is, no less than twenty-two ; of Cyrus, that 
he retained the name of every sinaie soldier in 
his army, liut the tinest compliment that ever 
was paid to a good memory, is what Tully says 
of Julius Caesar in his oration for Li.iijarius, tliat 
" lie never forgot any thing but an injury." 

* Alluding to a custom of the Romans, who 
marked the fortunate days in their calender with 
white, 0". ! the unfortunate with black. 

I might as well remain in Rome: for 
there is no medium worth accepting be- 
tween giving up your time wholly to the 
disposal of others, or reserving it entirely 
in your own ; at least for myself I de- 
clare I cannot relish mixtures of any 
kind, larewel. 

LETT ]•: R LXU. 

To llomannn. 

T uF.LiuvE you were not present at a 
-■■ very droll accident which lately liap- 
pened : 1 was not indeed a w itness to it 
myself; however, I had an early account 
of it. Passieiius Paulus, an eminent Ro- 
man knight, and particularly conspicu- 
ous for his great learning, has a turn for 
elegiac poetry ; a talent which runs in 
the family, for Propertius was his rela- 
tion as well as his countryman. He was 
lately reching a poem which began 
thus : 

^ri^cus, at thy command 

Whereupon Priseus, who happened to 
be present as a particular friend of the 
poet's, cried out, " But he is mistaken, I 
"did not command him." Think what 
a peal of laughter this occasionetl. The 
intellects of Priseus, you nmst know, are 
something suspicious ; houever, as he 
enters into the common oflices of life, is 
called to consultations, and publicly acts 
as a lawyer, this behaviour was ti)e more 
remarkable and ridiculous: and, in truth, 
Paulus was a good deal disconcerted by 
his friend's absurdity. Thus, you see, 
it is not only necessary that an author 
who recites his works in public, should 
hun>elf have a sound judgment, but that 
he takes care his audience have so too. 


To Tacitus, 

YOUR request that I w-ould send you 
an account of my uncle's death, in 
order to transmit a more exact relation of 
it to posterity, deserves my acknowledg- 
ments; for if this accident shall be ce- 
lebrated by your pen, the glory of it I 
am well assured will be rendered for ever 
illustrious. And notwithstanding he pe- 
rished by a raisibriune, which, as it in- 
volved at the same time a most beautiful 
II 3 country 



Book r 

country in ruins, and destroyed so many 
populous cities, seems to promise him an 
everlasting remembrance; notwitlistaml- 
inc he has himself composed manv aiiJ 
last i nil works ; vet I am persuaded the 
mentioning of him in your immortal 
writings will greatly contribute to eter- 
nizii his name. Happy I esteem tiio^eto 
be, whom Providence has distinguished 
M ith the abilities either of doing such 
actions as are worthy of being related, or 
of relating them in a manner worthy of 
being read ; but doubly happy arc they 
who are blessed with both the>e uncom- 
mon talents; in the number of which my 
uncle, as his own writings and your his- 
tory will evidently prove, may justly be 
ranked. It is with extreme willingness, 
therefore, I execute your commands ; an;l 
should indeed have claimed the task, if 
vou had not enjoined it. lie was at that 
time with the fleet under his command 
at Misenum *. On the 23d of August, 
about one in the afternoon, my mother 
desired him to observe a cloud which ap- 
peared of a very unusual size and shape. 
He had just returned from taking the 
benefit of the sunf, and after bathing 
himself in cold water, and taking a slight 
repast, was retired to his study : he im- 
mediately arose and went out upon an 
eminence from whence he might more 
distinctly view this very uncommon ap- 
pearance. It was not at that distance 
discernible from what mountain this 
cloud issued, but it was found afterwards 
to ascend from mount Vesuvius j. lean- 
not give you a more exact description of 
its figure than by resembling it to that of 
a pine-tree, for it shot up a great height 
in the form of a trunk, which extended 
itself 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 
this manner; it appeared sometimes 
bright, and sometimes dark and spotted, 
as it was either more or less iwipregnated 
with earth and cinders. This extraor- 

* In the gulf of Naples. 

•j- The Romans used to lie or waUc naked in 
the sun, after anointing their bodies witli oil, 
■which was esteemed as greatly contributing to 
health, and therefore daily practised by them. 

X About six miles distant from Naples.— This 
dreadful eruption happened A. D. 79, in the first 
year of the emperor Titu*. 

dinary phenomenon excited my uncle's 
philosophical curiosity to take a nearer 
view of it. lie ordered a light vessel to 
be got readv, and gave me the liberty, if 
I thought proper, to attend him. Irather 
chos" to continue mv studies; for, as it 
happened, he had given me an etnploy- 
mciit of that kind. .\s he was coming 
out of the house he received a note from 
Rectina the wit'e of Hassus, who was in 
the utmost alarm at the imminent danger 
which threatened her; for her villa being 
situated at the foot of mount Vesuvius, 
there was no way to escape but by sea; 
she earnestly intreated him then-lore to 
conn to her assistance. He accordingly 
chantred his first desimi, and what he 
began with a philosophical, he pursued 
with an heroical turn of mind. He or- 
dered the galleys to put to sea, and went 
himself on board with an intention of 
assisting not only Rectina, but several 
others : for the villas stand extremely 
thick upon the beautiful coast. When 
hasteningtothe place from whence others 
fled with the utmost terror, he steered his 
direct course 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 
figure of that dreadful scene. He was 
now so nigh the mountain that the cin- 
ders, 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 like- 
wise indangernotonly of being a-ground 
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 con- 
sider whether he should return back 
again, to which the pilot advising him ; 
'* Fortune," said he, " befriends tha 
" brave ; carry me to Pomponianus." 
Pomponianus was then at Stabise §, se- 
parated by a gulf M'hich the sea, after 
several insensible windings, forms upon 
that shore. He had already sent his bag- 
gage on board ; for though he was not 
at that time in actual danger, yet being 
within the view of it, and indeed ex- 
tremely near, if it should in the least in- 
crease, he was determined to put to sea 
as soon as the wind should change. It 
was favourable, however, for carrying 

§ Now called Castel e Mar di Stehia, ia the 
gulf of Naples, 

Sect. II. 

P L I N Y. 


my uncle to Pomponianu'?, whom he 
found in the greatest tonstcrnat ion: Ije 
eribraced him with tcn(Jerne>s, encou- 
raging and exhorting him to keep uj* his 
spirits, an(i the more to dissipate liis tears, 
he ordered, with an air of unconcern, the 
batlisto be got ready ; when at\er having 
bathed, he sat down to supper with great 
cheerfuhiess, or at least (what is fc(|ually 
heroic) with all the appearance of it. 
In the mean while the eruption from 
mount Vesuvius flamed out in several 
places with much violence, which the 
darkness of the night contributctl to ren- 
der still more visible and dreadful, liut 
my uncle, in order to soothe the appre- 
hensions of his friend, assured him it was 
only the burning of the villages, which 
the country people had abandoned to the 
flames: alter this he retired to rest, and 
it is most certain he was so little discom- 
posed as to fall into a deep sleep ; for 
being pretty fat, and breathing hard, 
those who attended without actually 
heard him snore. The court which led 
to his apartment being now almost filled 
with stones and ashes, if he had continued 
there any time longer, it would have 
been impossible for him to have made his 
way out ; it was thought proper there- 
fore to awaken him. He got up, nnd 
went to Pom|)onianus and the rest of hi- 
company, who were not unconcerned 
enough to think of going to bed. They 
consulted together whether it would be 
most pradent to trust to the houses, which 
now shook from side to side with frequent 
and violent concussions ; or tly to the 
open fields, where the calcined stones and 
cinders, though light indeed, yet fell in 
large showers, and threatened destruction. 
In this distress they resolved for the 
fields as the less dangerous situation of 
thetwo; aresolution w hich, whilethe rest 
of the company were hurried into it by 
their. fears, my uncle embraced upon cool 
and deliberate consideration. Thev went 
out then, having pillows tied upon their 
heads with napkins; and this was their 
whole defence against the storm of stones 
that fell round them. Though it was 
now day every where else, with them it 
was darker than the most obscure night, 
exceptingonly what light proceeded from 
the fire and flames. They thought pro- 
per;to go down farther upon the shore, to 
observe if they might safely put out to 
sea, but they found the waves still run 
extremely high and boisterous- There 

my imclc haviu» drunk a draught or two 
of cold water, threw himself down upon 
a cloth which was spread for him, wlien 
immediately the flames and a strong smell 
of sulphur, which was the fore-runner 
of them, dispersed tl,c rest of the com- 
pany and obliged them to arise. He 
raised himself up with the assistance of 
two of his servants, and instautly fell 
down defid ; sufibcated, as I conjecture, 
by son)e gross and noxious vapour, hav- 
ing always had weak lungs, and fre- 
quently subjected to a dilTiculty of breath- 
ing. As soon as it was light again, 
which was not till the third day after 
this melancholy accident, his body wa.«! 
found entire, and without any marks of 
violence upon it, exactly in the same 
posture that he fell, and looking more 
like a man asleep than dead. During all 
this time my mother and I, who were at 
Mi.senum — But as this has no connection 
with your history, so your enquiry went 
no farther than concerning my uncle's 
death ; with that therefore 1 will put aa 
end to my letter: sutler me only to add, 
that I have faithfully related to you what 
I was either an eye-witness of myself, or 
received immediately after the accident 
happened, and before tliere was time to 
vary the truth. You will choose out of 
this narrative such circumstances nsshall 
be most suitable to your purpose; for 
there is a great dillerence between what 
is proper for a letter, and an liistory ; 
between writing to a friend, and writing 
to the public. Farewel. 


To Corndhis Tacitux. 

TUK letter which, in compliance with 
your request, I wrote to you con- 
cerning the death of my uncle, has 
raised, it seems, your curiosity to know 
what terrors and dangers attended me 
while I continued at Misenum; for there, 
1 think, the account in my former broke 

Tho' my shock'd soul recoils, :i!y tongue shall tell. 

My uncle having left us, I pursued the 
studies which prevented my going witli 
him, till it was time to bathe; after 
which I went to suppt-r, and from thence 
to bed, where my ^leep was greatly 
broken and disturbed. Tiiere had been 
for many days before some shocks of an 
H t ' earthquake. 



Book' I. 

earthquake, which the Ic?'? surprised us 
as they are extremely frequent in Cam- 
pania; but thev were so particularly 
violent that night, that they not only 
shook every thing about us, but seenietl 
indeed to threaten total destruction. IVIy 
ino'her flew to my chamber, where she 
fiiund me rising in order to awaken her. 
We went out into a small court belong- 
ing to the house, which separated the sea 
from the buildings. As I was at that 
time but eighteen years of age, I know 
uot whether I should call my behaviour 
in this dangerous juncture, courage or 
rashness; but I took up I.ivy, and amused 
myself with turning over that author, 
and even m-iking extracts from him, as 
if all about me had been in full security. 
While we were in this posture, a friend 
of ray uncle's, who was just come from 
Spain to pay him a visit, joined us, and 
observing me sitting by my mother with 
a book in my hand, greatly condemned 
l)cr calmness, at the same time that he 
reproveil me for my careless security : 
nevertheless I still went on with my au- 
thor. 1 hough it was now morning, 
the light was e>"ceedingly faint and 
languid; the buildings all around us 
tottered, and though we stood upon open 
ground, yet as the place was narrow and 
confined, there was no remaining there 
without certain and great danger; avc 
therefore resolved to quit the town. The 
people followed us in the utmost conster- 
nation, and (as to a mind distracted with 
terror, every suggestion seems more pru- 
dent than its own) pressed in great crowds 
about us in our way out. Being got at 
a convenient distance from the houses, 
we stood still in the midst of a most dan- 
gerous and dreadful scene. The chariots 
which we had ordered to be drawn out 
were so agitated backwardsand forwards, 
though in the open fields, that we could 
not keep them steady, even by support- 
ing them with large stones. The sea 
seemed to roll back upon itself, and to be 
driven from its banks by the convulsive 
motion of the earth; it is certain at least 
the shore was considerably enlarged, and 
several sea-animals were left upon it. On 
the other side, a black and dreadful cloud 
bursting with an igneous serpentine va- 
pour, darted out a long train of fire, re- 
sembling flashes of lightning, but much 
larger. Upon this, our Spanish friend, 
whom I mentioned above, addressing 
himself to my mother and me with great 

warmth and earnestness: '"If your bro- 
" thcr, and your uncle," said he, " is 
" safe, he certainly wishes you may be 
" so too; but if he perished, it was his 
" desire, no doubt, that you might both 
"survive him: Why therefore do you 
" delay your escape a moment r" We 
could never think of our own safety, w« 
said, while we were uncertain of his. 
Hereupon our friend left us, and with- 
drew from the danger, with the utmost 
precipitation. Soon afterwards the cloud 
seemed to descend, and cover the whole, 
ocean ;as, indeed, it entirely hid t lie island 
of Caprea*, and the promontory of -Nli- 
senum. My mother strongly conjured 
me to make my escape at any rate, which, 
as I was young, I might easily do; as for 
herself, she said, her age and corpulency 
rendered all attempts of that sort im- 
possible; however, she would willingly 
meet death, if she could have the satis- 
faction of seeing that she was not the oc- 
casion of mine. But I absolutely refused 
to leave her, and taking her by the hand, 
I led her on; she complied with great 
reluctance, and not without many re- 
proaches to herself for retarding my flight. 
The ashes now began to fall upon us, 
tiiough in no great quantity. I turned 
my head, and observed behind us a thick 
smoke, which came rolling after us like a 
torrent. I proposed, while we had yet 
anj"^ Vight, to turn out of the high road, 
lest we should be pressed to death in the 
dark by the crowd that inllowed us. We 
had scarce stepped out of the path, when 
a darkness overspread us, not like that of 
acloudj' night, or when there is no moon, 
but of a room when it is shut up and all 
the lights extinct. Nothing then was to 
be heard but the shrieks of women, the 
screams of childreuj and the cries of men; 
some calling for their children, others 
for their parents, others for their hus- 
bands, andonly distinguishingeach other 
by their voices ; one lamenting his own 
fate, another that of his family; some 
\yishing to die from the very fear of dy- 
ing, some lifting up their hands to the 
gods; but the greater part imagining 
that the last and eternal night was comc^ 
which was to destroy both the gods and 
the world together f. Among these there 


* An island near Naples, now callffl Capri. 

f The Stoic and Epicurean philosophers held, 
that the world was to 1)6 destroyed by five, and 
all thiiijjs fall again into original chaos, not ex- 

Sect. II. 

P L I N Y, 


were some who aurfrnpiitcd the reil ter- 
rors by imaginary ones, and made the 
frighted multitude falsely believe that 
Misenum was actually in flames. At 
length a [rlimnicrin<T light appeared, 
which we iniagincd to be rather the fore- 
runner of an appntaching burst of (lames 
(as ill truth it was) than the return of 
rlay ; however, tlie fire fell at a distance 
from us: then again we were immersed 
in thick darkness, and a heavy showc-r of 
a.shes raim-d upon us, which we were 
obliged everv now and then to shake of, 
otherwise we sliould have been crushed 
and buried in the heajj. I might boast, 
that during all this scene of horror, not 
a sigh or expression of fear escaped from 
me, had not my support been founded in 
that miserable though strong consolation, 
that all mankind were involved in the 
samccalamitv, and Miat I imagined I was 
perishing with the world itself. At last 
this dreadful darkness was dissipated by 
degrees like a cloud of smoke : the real 
day returned, and even the sun appeared, 
though very faintlj', and as when an 
eclipse is coming on. Every object that 
presented itself to our eves (which were 
extremely weakened) seemed changed, 
being covered over with white ashesi 
as with a deep snow. We returned to 
Misenum, where we refreshed ourselves 
as well as we could, and passed an anxious 
night between hope and fear; though 
indeed with a much larger share of the 
latter; for the earthquake still continued, 
while several enthusiastic people ran up 
and down, heightening their own and 
their friends' calamities by terrible pre- 
dictions. However, my mother and I, 
notwithstanding the danger we had ])ass- 
ed, and that which still threatened us, 
had no thoughts of leaving the place till 
we should receive some account of ray 

And now you will read this narrative 
without any view of inserting it in your 
history, of which it is by no means wor- 
thy; and indeed you must impute it to 
your own request, if it shall appear scarce 
to deserve even the trouble of a letter. 

cepting even the national gods themselves from 
the destruction of this general conflasiration. 

X ^'r. Addison, in his account ot mount Vesu- 
vio, obsenes, that the air of the place is so very 
much imprco-nated with salt pctre, that one can 
scarce imd a stone which has not the top white 
witli it. 


To Tri alius. 

CONSENT to undertake the cause 
which you so earnestly reconmicnd to 
me; but as glorious and honourable as 
it may be, I will not be your counsel 
without a fee. Is it possible, you will 
say, that my friend Pliny should be so 
mercenary? indeed it is; and I insist 
upon a reward which will do me more 
honourthan thcmostflisinterested patron- 
age. I beg of you then, and indeed I 
make it a previous condition, that Cre- 
mutius Ruso may be joined with me ai» 
counsel in this cause. This is a practice 
which I have IVecpiently observed with 
respect to several distinguished vouths ; 
as indeed I take intinite pleasure in intro- 
ducing young men of merit to the bar, 
and assigning them over to fame. But 
if ever 1 owed this good office to any 
man, it is certainly to Ruso, not only 
upon account of his family, but his ten- 
der afiect ion to me; and it would all'ord 
me a very singular satisfaction to have 
an opportunity of seeing him draw the 
attention of the audience in the same 
court and the same cause with myself. 
This I now ask as an obligation to me; 
but when he has pleaded in your cause, 
you will esteem it as a favour done to you ; 
for I will be answerable that he shall ac- 
quit himself in a manner equal to your 
wishes, as well as to my hopes and the 
importance of the cause. He is a youth 
of a most excellent disposition, and when 
once I shall have produced his merit, we 
shall soon see him exert the same gene- 
rous office in forwarding that of others; 
as indeed no man without the support and 
encouragement of friends, and having 
proper opportunities thrown in his way, 
is able to rise at once from obscuritv by 
the brightness of his own unassisted ge- 


To Senianus. 

T AM extremely rejoiced to hear that 
•■■ you design your daughter for Fuscus 
Salinator, and congratulate you upon it. 




liook T. 

His family is patrician *, and both his 
father and mother are persons of the most 
rxalted merit. As for himself, he is stu- 
dious, learned, and eloquent, and with all 
the innocence of a child, unites the 
sprightliness of youth to the wisdom of 
age. I am not, believe mc, deceived by 
my aftcttion, when I give him this cha- 
racter; for though 1 love him, I confess, 
beyond measure (as his friendship and 
esteem for me well dfservf), vet partiality 
has no share in my judgment ; on the 
contrary, the stronger my fondness of 
him is, the more rigorouslv I weigh his 
merit. I will venture then to assure you 
(and I speak it upon my own experience) 
you couk] net have formed to your wish 
a more accomplished son-in-law. i^lay 
he soon present you with a grand-son, 
who shall be the exact copy of his farhcr ! 
And with what pleasure slia!l 1 receive 
from the arms of two such friends their 
chil Iren or grand-chiidren, whom I shall 
claim a sort of right to embrace as my 
«vi n ? Farewel. 


To Pontius. 

T WAS not ignorant of the reason which 
-'• prevented your coming into Campania 
to receive me. But absent as you were, 
might I have judged by the vast quantity 
of provisions of all sorts, with which I 
■was supplied by your orders, J should 
have imagined you had conveyed 3'our- 
self hither withyour whole possessions. I 
inuit own I was so arrant a clown, as to 
take all that was offered me ; however, it 
■was in compliance with the solicitations 
of your people, and fearing you would 
chide both them and me if 1 refused. But 
for the future, if you will not observe 
some measure, I must. And accordingly 
I assured your servants, if ever they were 
thus profuse in their bounty to me again, 
I would absolutely return the whole. You 
will tell me, I know, that I ought to con- 
sider every thing belonging to jou as 
entirely mine. I am extremely sensible 
of that; and therefore I would use them 
with the same moderation as my own. 

* Those families were styled Patrician, whose 
ancestors had been ta' mbei-s of the senate in the 
".'arlicst times %i the regal or consular govern- 


To Suintilian. 

rpHouGii your desires, I know, arc 
-*■ extremely moderate, and the educa- 
tion which your daughter has received 
is suitable to your character and that of 
Tutilius her grandfather; yet as she is 
going to be married to a person of so 
great distinction as Nonius Oeler, whose 
station requires a certain splendour of lir- 
ing, it will he necessary to coirsiderthe 
rank of her husband in her clothes and 
equipage : civcumstancps which, though 
they do not augment our real dignity^ 
yet certainly adorn and grace it. But as 
1 am sensible your fo. tune is not equal to 
the greatness of your mind, I claim to 
myself a pan in your expencc, and like 
another fath. r, present the young lady 
with fifty thousand sestercesf. I he sum 
should be larger but that I am well per- 
suaded the smallness of the present is the 
only consideration that can prevail with 
your modesty not to refuse it. Farewel. 

To Restitiitus. 

THIS obstinate distemper which hangs 
upon you greatly alarms me; and 
though I know how extremely temperate 
you are, yet I am afraid your disease 
should get the better of your moderation. 
Let me intreat you then to resist it with 
a determined abstemiousness : a remedy, 
be assured, of all others the most noble 
as well as the most salutary. There is 
nothing 'inpracticable in what I recom- 
mend: it is a rule, at least, which I al- 
ways direct my family to observe with 
respect to myself. I hope, I tell them, 
that should I be attacked with any dis- 
order, I shall desire nothing of which I 
either ought to be ashamed, or have rea- 
son to repent ; however, if my distemper 
should prevail over my resolution, I for- 
bid that any thing be given me but by 
the consent of my physicians; and I as- 
sure the people about me, that I shall re- 
sent their compliance wikh me in things 
improper, as much as another man would 
their refusal. I had once a most violent 
fever i when the fit was a little abated. 

f About 4ft01. ef our money. 


f^ect. II. 

I» L I N Y. 


and I had been anointed*, my pliysician 
ofTered me something to drink; 1 de- 
sired he would first feel my pidse, and 
upon his seemingto think the lit was not 
fjuite oil', I instantly returned the cup, 
tiiough it was just at my lips. After- 
wards, when I was preparing to go into 
the bath, twenty days from the first ac- 
tack of my ilhiess, perceiving the pl>y- 
sieians whis[)ering together, I enquired 
what they were saying. They replied, 
they were of opinion I might possibly 
bathe with safety, however that they 
Avcre not witliout sonie suspicion of ha- 
zard. What occasion is there, said I, of 
doing it at all? And thus, with great 
complacency, I gave up a pleasure 1 was 
upon the })oii\t of enjoying, and abstain- 
ed from the bath with the same compo- 
sure I was g<jing to enter it. I mention 
this, not only in order to enforce my ad- 
\ ice by examj)le; but also that this let- 
ter may be a sort of tie upon me to per- 
severe in the same resolute abstinence for 
tlie future, i-'arewel. 

To Prasens. 

AUK you determined then to pass your 
whole time between Lucaniaf and 
Campania 1? Your answer, I suppose, 
will be, that the former is your native 
country; and the latter that of your 
wife. This, I admit, may justify a 
long absence, but I cannot allow it as a 
reason for a perpetual one. But are you 
resolved in good earnest never to return 
to Rome, that theatre of dignities, pre- 
ferment, and society of every sort ? Are 
you obstinately bent to live your own 
master, and sleep and rise when you 
think proper? Will you never change 
your country dress for the habit of the 
town, but spend your whole days unem- 
barrassed by business? It is time, how- 
ever, youshould revisitoursceneofhurry, 
were it only that your rural pleasures 
may not grow languid by enjoyment; 
appear at the levees of the great, that 
you may enjoy the same honour yourself 

* Unction was much esteemed and prescribed 
by the ancients. Celsus, who flourished, it is 
supposed, about this time, expressly recom- 
mends it in the remission of aeute distempers. 

f Comprehending the Basilicata, a province 
in the kingdom of Naples, 

I Now called Campagna di Roma, 

with more satisfaction; and mix in our 
crowd, that you may have a stronger re- 
lish for the charms of solitude. But am 
I not imprudently retarding the friend I 
woidd recall? It is these very circum- 
stances, perhaps, that induce you every 
day more and more to wrap yourself up 
in retirement. All however I mean to 
persuade vou to, is only to intermit, not 
renounce your repose. If I were to in- 
vite you to a feast, as I would blend 
dishes of a sharper taste with those of a 
more luscious kind, inord<a- to raise the 
edge of your palate by the one, which 
has been flattened by the other; so I now 
advise you toeuliventhesmooth pteasiires 
of life with those of a quicker relish. 



To Calphumia §. 

T is incredible how impatiently I wish 
for your return ; such is the tender- 
ness of my afl'ection for you, and so un- 
accustomed am I to a separation ! I lie 
awake the greatest part of the night in 
thinking of you, and (to use a very 
common, but very true expression) my 
feet carry me of their own accord to your 
apartment, at those hours I used to visit 
you: but not finding you there, I return 
with as much sorrow and disappointment 
as an excluded lover. The only inter- 
mission my anxiety knows, is when I 
am engaged at the bar, and in the causes 
of my friends. Judge how wretchedmust 
his life be, who finds no repose but in 
business; no consolation but in a crowd. 


To Tuscus. 

You desire my sentiments concerninj 
the method of study you should pur- 
sue, in that retirement to which you have 
long since withdrawn. In the first place 
then, I look upon it as a very advan- 
tageous practice (and it is what many re- 
commend) to translate either from Greek 
into Latin, or from Latin into *ireek. 
By this means you will furnish yourself 
with noble and proper expressions, with 
variety of beautiful figures, and an ease 

^ Hi« wife. 




Book r. 

and strenfith of style. Besides, by imi- 
tating the most approved authors, you 
will find your imagination heated, and 
fall insensibly into a similar turn of 
thought ; at the same time that those 
things which you may possibly have 
overlooked in a common way of reading, 
cannot escape you in translating: and 
this method will open your understand- 
ing and improve your judgment. It mav 
not be ami';-^, after vou have r-ad an au- 
thor, in order to make yourself master of 
hissubject and argument, from his reader 
to turn, as it were, his rival, and attempt 
something of your own in the same way; 
and then make an impartial comparison 
between your performance and his, in 
order to see in what point either you or 
lie happily succeeded. It will be a 
matter of very pleasing congratulation to 
yourself, if you shall find in some things, 
that you have the advantage of him, as 
it will be a great mortification if he 
should rise above you in all. You may 
sometimes venture in these little essays to 
try your strength upon the most shining 
passages of a distinguished author. The 
attempt, indeed, will be something bold; 
but as it is a contention whu h passes in 
secret, it cannot be taxed with presump- 
tion. Notbut that we have seen instances 
of persons, who have publicly entered 
this sort of lists with great success, and 
while they did not despair of overtaking, 
have gloriously advanced before those 
whom they thought it sufficient honour 
to follow. After you have thus finished 
a composition, you may lay it aside, till 
it is no longer fresh in your memor}', and 
then take it up in order to revise and cor- 
rect it. You will find several things to 
retain, but still more to reject ; you will 
add a new thought here, and alter an- 
other there. It is a laborious and tedious 
task, I own, thus to re-inflame the mind 
after the first heat is over, to recover an 
impulse when its force has been checked 
and spent, in a word, to interweave new- 
parts into the texture of a composition, 
without disturbing or confounding the 
original plan; but the advantage at- 
tending this method will overbalance the 
difficulty. I know the bent of your pre- 
sent cittention is directed towards the 
eloquence of the bar; but I would not 
for that reason advise you never to quit 
the style of dispute and contention. As 
land is improved by sowing it with va- 
rious seeds, so is the mind by exercising 

it with different studies. I would re- 
commend it to you, therefore, sometimes 
to single out a fine passage of history; 
sometimes to exercise yourself in the 
epistolary style, and sometimes the 
poetical. I'or it frequently happen?, 
that in pleading one has occasion to 
make use not only of historical, but even 
poetical descriptions; as by the episto- 
lary manner of writing you will acfiuire 
a close and easy expression. It will be 
extremely proper also to unbend your 
mind with poetry ; when I sav so, I do 
not mean that species of it which turns 
upon subjects of great length (for that i^ 
fit only for persons of much leisure), but 
those little pieces of the epigramniatic 
kind, which serve as proper reliefs to, 
and are consistent with employments of 
every sort. They commonly go under 
the title of Poetical Amusements; but 
these amusements have somctirnes gained 
as much reputation to their authors, as 
works of a more serious nature. In this 
manner the greatest men. as well as the 
greatest orators, used either to exercise or 
amuse themselves, or rather indeed did 
both. It issurprising how much the mind 
is entertained and enlivened by these 
little poetical compositions, as they turn 
upon subjects of gallantry, satire, tender- 
ness, politeness, and every thing, in short, 
that concerns life and the alVairs of the 
world. Besides, the same advantage at- 
tends these, as every other sort of poems, 
that we turn from them to prose with so 
much the more pleasure, after having ex- 
perienced the difficulty of being con- 
strained and fettered by numbers. And 
rrow, perhaps, I have troubled you upon 
this subject longer than you desired; 
however, there is one thing which I have 
omitted; I have not told you what kind 
of authors vou should read; though in- 
deed that was sufficient!}- implied when I 
mentioned what subjects I would recom- 
mend for your compositions. Yon ^\ill 
remember, that the most approved 
writersof each sort are to be carefully 
chosen ; for, as it has been well observed, 
" though we should read mucii, we 
" should not read many books*." Who 


* Tims the noble and polite moralist, speak- 
ing of the influence wiiich our reading has upon 
our taste and manners, thinks it improper " to 
call a man well read, who reads many tnithoi-s; 
since he must of necessity have more ill models 
than good; and be mort: stiilTcd with bomhast, 
ill fancy, and wry thoujjht, than !iih.-d with solid 


Sect. n. 


I Of 

those authors are is so clearly settled, 
and so gem-rally known, that J need not 
pf'iiit them out to you; besides, I have 
already extended this letter to such an 
jnnnoderate length, that I have inter- 
rupted, I fear, too long those studies I 
have been rcconiniending. 1 will here 
resign you therefore to your papers, 
which you will now resume; and either 
pursue the studies vou were before en- 
paged in, or enter upon some of those 
which I have advised, l-'arcwel. 



To Prisciis, 

AM deeply afflicted at the ill state of 
health of my friend Tannia^ which she 
contracted during her attendance on Ju- 
nia, one of the Vestal virgins. She en- 
<jnged in this good oflicc at first volunta- 
rily, Junia being her relation; as she 
was afterwards appointed to do it by an 
order from the college of Priests : for 
these virgins, whew any indisposition 
makes it necessary to remove them from 
the temple of Vesta, are always delivered 
to the care and custody of some venera- 
ble matron. It was her assiduity in the 
execution of this charge that occasioned 
her present disorder, which is a continual 
fever, attended with a cough that in- 
creasesdaily. She is extremely emaciated, 
and seems in a total decay of every thing 
but spirits ; those indeed she preserves in 
their full vigour; and in a manner worthy 
the wife of Heividius, and the daughter 
of Thrasea. in all the rest she is so 

sense and just imagination." [Character, v. 1. 
14*2.] When the Goths overran Greece, the li- 
braries ('scaiH;d thiir destruction, by a notion 
which some ot" their leaders industriously propa- 
pated anwng thorn, that it would be more for 
their inter< st to leave those spoils untouched to 
their enemies; as being proper to enervate tlieir 
minds, and amuse them witii vain and idle spe- 
culution.i. Truth, perhap>, has been less a gainer 
by this inultipUcity of books, than error : and it 
may be a question, whether the evcelleut mo- 
dels which have been delivered down to us from 
antiquity, together with those few which modem 
times have produced, by any means balance the 
immoderate weight which must be thrown into 
the opposite scale of writers. The truth is, 
thougli we may be learned by other men's re- 
flections, wise We can only be by our own : and 
the maxim here reconmiended l)y Plinv would 
well deserve the attention of the studious, though 
no other iaconvenieuce attended the reading of 
many books, than that which Sir William Tim- 
ple apprehends from it ; the lessening the force 
*nd growth *f a man's own genius. 

greatly impaired, that I am more thaw 
apprelxns've u[)on her account; 1 am 
dee()ly alllicted. I grieve, my trienri, 
that so excellent a woman is going to be 
removed from the eyes of the world, 
wliich will never, perhaps, again behold 
her eijual. How consunmiate is her vir- 
tue, her piety, her wisdom, her courage ! 
She twice followed her husband into ex- 
ile, and once was banished herself upon 
his account, j'or Senecio, when he was 
tried for writing the life of Heividius, 
having said in his defence tliat he com- 
posed that work at the request of I'annia; 
Metius Carus, with a stern and threaten- 
ing air, asked her whether it was true? 
She acknowledged it was : and when her 
father questioned her, whether she sup- 
plied him likewise with materials for 
that purpoic, and whether her mother 
was privy to that transaction ? she boldly 
confessed the former, but absolutely de- 
nied the latter. Jn short, throughout 
her whole examination not a word es- 
caped her that betrayed the least emotien 
of fear. On the contrary, she had the 
courage to preserve a copy of those very 
books, which the senate, overawed by 
the tyranny of the times, had ordered to 
be suppressed, and at the same time the 
etlects of the author to be confiscated ; 
and took with her as the companions of 
her exile, what had been the cause of it. 
How pleasing is her conversation, how 
polite her address, and (which seldom 
unites in the same character) how vene- 
rable is she as well as amiable ! She will 
hereafter, I am well persuaded, be point- 
ed out as a model to all wives; and per- 
haps be esteemed worthy to be set forth 
as an example of fortitude even to our 
sex; since, while yet we have the plea- 
sure of seeing and conversing with her, 
we contemplate her witii the same ad- 
miration as those heroines who are ce- 
lebrated in ancient history. For my.self, 
I confess 1 cannot but tremble for this 
illustrious house, which seems shaken to 
its very foundations, and ready to fall 
into ruins with her: for though she will 
leave descendants behind her, yet what a 
height of virtue must they attain, what 
glorious actions must they perform, ere 
th'e world will be persuaded that this ex- 
cellent woman was not the last of her 
family I It is an aggravating circum- 
stance of all] iction to me, that by her 
death I seem to lose a second time her 
mother; that worthy motiier (and v.'hat 





can I say higher in her praise ?) of so 
;uiiiable a person ! who, as she was re- 
stored tome ill her daughter, so she will 
now again be taken tVom me, and the 
loss ot" Fannia will thus pierce my heart 
at once with a tre^h stub, and at the same 
time tear open a former wound. I loved 
and honoured them both so highly, that 
I knew not which had the greatest share 
of my esteem and affection ; a point they 
desired might ever remain undetermined. 
In their prosperity and their adversity I 
did them every good office in my power, 
and was their comforter in exile, as well 
as their avenger at their return. But I 
have not yet paid them what I owe, and 
am so much the more solicitous for the 
recovery of this lady, that I may have 
time to acquit what is due from rac to 
her. Such is the anxiety under which I 
write this letter! But if some friendly 
power should happily give me occasion to 
•xchange it for sentiments of joy, I shall 
not complain of the alarms I now sutler. 

To Rufus. 

WHAT numbers of learned men does 
modesty conceal, or love of ease with- 
dra%v from the notice of the world! and 
yet when we are going to speak or recite 
in public, it is the judgment only of os- 
tentatious talents which we stand in awe 
of: whereas in truth, those who silently 
cultivate the sciences have so much a 
higher claim to regard, as they pay a 
calm veneration to whatever is great in 
works of genius: an observation which 
I give you upon experience. Terentius 
Junior having passed through the military 
offices suitable to a person of equestrian 
rank, and executed ^vith great integrity 
the post of receiver-general of the reve- 
nues in Narbonensian Gaul *, retired to 
his estate, preferring the tnjoyraent of 
an uninterrupted tranquillity, to those 
honours which his services had merited. 
He invited me lately to his house, where. 
Looking upon him only as a worthy mas- 
ter of a family, and an industrious far- 
mer, I started such topics of conversa- 

* One of the four principal divisions of an- 
cient Gaul ; it extended from the Pyrenreau 
mountains, which separate France from Spain, 
to the Alp>9, which divide it from Italy, and com- 
prehended Laugued«3C, Provence, Dauphiny, and 

tion in which I imagined he wxs most 
versed. But he soon turned the discourse, 
and with a great fund of knowledge en- 
tered upou })oints of literature. With 
what elegance did he express himself in 
Latin and Greek; for he is so perfectly 
well skilled in both, that whichever he 
uses, seems to be the language wherein 
he particularly excels. How extensive is 
his reading ! how tenacious his memory '. 
You would not imagine him the inha- 
bitant of a country village, but of polite 
Athens herself. In short, his conversa- 
tion has increased my solicitude concern- 
ing my works, and taught me to fear the 
judgment of those refined country gentle- 
men, as much as of those of more known 
and conspicuous learning. And let me 
persuade you to consider them in the same 
light: for, believe me, upon a careful 
observation, you will often find in the, 
literury as well as military world, most 
formidable abilities concealed under a 
very unpromising aj>pearance. Farewel. 


To Maximus. 

THE lingering disorder of a friend of 
mine gave me occasion lately to re- 
flect that we are never so virtuous as when 
oppressed with sickness. Where is the 
man who.under the pain of any distemper, 
is either solicited by avarice or inflamed 
with lust ? At such a season he is neither 
a slave of love, nor the fool of ambition : 
he looks with indifterence upon the 
charms of wealth, and is contented with 
ever so small a portion of it, as being 
upon the point of leaving even that lit- 
tle. It is then he recollects there are 
gods, and that he himself is but a man : 
no mortal is then the object of his envy, 
his admiration, or his contempt: and the 
reportsof slander neither raise his atten- 
tion nor feed his curiosity: his imagina- 
tion is wholly employed upon baths and 
fountains!. These are the subjects of his ^ 
cares and wishes, while he resolves, if JH 
he should recover, to pass the remainder ^ 
of his days in ease and tranquillity, that 
is, in innocence and happiness. I may 
therefore lay down to you and njyself a 
short rule, which the philosophers have 

f It is probable that fevers were the peculiar 
distemper of Rome, as Pliny, in h.s i^ansral il- 
lusions to disorders of the body, seems always 
to consider thcui of tbe iA^muoatory kind. 


Sect. II. 



endeavoured to inculcate at the exprnse 
of many ^vo^d,s, and ev^n many volumes; 
that "we should pr.icti.stj in ht-aith those 
*' resolutions wo form in sickness." Farc- 



To Genitor. 

AM extremely concerned that you have 
lost your pupil, a youtl), as your letter 
assures rue, of such great hopes. Can I 
want to be infonned, that his sickness 
and death must have interrupted your 
studids, knowing, as I do, with what ex- 
actness you fill up every duty of life, and 
how unlimited your affection is to all 
those to whom you give your esteem ? 
As for myself, business pursues me even 
hither, and I am not out of the reach of 
people who oblige me to act either as 
their judge or their arbitrator. To this 
1 must add, not only the continual com- 
plaints of the fanners, who claim a sort 
of prescription to try my patience as 
they please; but the necessity of letting 
out my farms : an alVair w hich gives me 
much trouble, as it is exceedingly diffi- 
cult to find out proper tenants. For these 
reasons I can only study by snatches; still 
however I study. I sometinies read, and 
sometimes I compose ; but my reading 
teaches me, by a very mortifying com- 
parison, with what ill success I attempt 
to be an author myself. Though indeed 
you give me great encouragement, when 
you compare the piece I wrote in vindi- 
f ation of Helvidius, to the oration of De- 
mosthenes against Midias. I confess I had 
that harangue in my view when I com- 
posed mine; not that I pretend to rival 
it (that would be an absurd and mad at- 
tempt indeed), but I endeavoured, I own, 
to imitate it, as far as the difterence of 
our subjects would admit, and as nearly 
as a genius of the lowest rank can copy 
«»ne of the highest. Farewel. 


To Geminius. 

i^UR friend Macrinus is pierced with 
^^ the severest affliction. He has lost 
his wife ! a lady whose uncommon vir- 
tues would have rendered her an orna- 
irieat eyen to ancient times. He lived 
with her thirty-nine years in the most 
u|paterrupted harmony. H«>v respectful 

was her behaviour to him ! nnd how did 
she herself deserve tlie higliest venera- 
tion, asslie blended and united in her cha- 
racter all those amiable virtues that adorn 
and distinguish the ditferent periods of 
female life! It should, methinks, ailbrd 
great consolation to Macrinus, that he 
lias thus long enjoyed so exquisite a bless- 
ing; but that reflection seems only so 
much the more to imbitter his loss ; a» 
indeed the pain of parting with our hap- 
piness still rises in proportion to the 
length of its conti nuance. I cannot there- 
fore but be greatly anxious for so valua- 
ble a friend, till this wound to his peace 
shall be in a condition to admit of proper 
applications. Time, however, together 
with the necessity of the thing, and even 
a satiety of grief itself, will best elTect his 
cure. Farewel. 



To Romanus. 

,\VE you ever seen the source of the 
river Clitumnus r * as I never heard 
you mention it, I imagine not; let me 
therefore advise you to do so immediately. 
It is but lately indeed I had that pleasure, 
and I condemn myself for not having 
seen it sooner. At the foot of a little hill 
covered with venerable and shady cypress 
trees, a spring issues out, which gushing 
in different and unequal streams, forms 
itself, after several windings, into a spa- 
cious bason, so extremely clear that you 
may see the pebbles and the little pieces 
of money which are thrown into it f, as 
they lie at the bottom. From thence it 
is carried ofTnot so much by the declivity 

* Now called Clitumno : it rises a little below 
the village of Campello in Ombria. The inha- 
bitants near this river still retain a notion that 
its waters are attended with a supernatural pro- 
perty, imagining it makes the cattle white that 
drink of it : a quality for which it is likewise ce- 
lebrated by many of the Latin poets. See Ad- 
d'.so}i's Travels. 

f The heads of considerable rivers, hot springs, 
lar/e bodies of standing water, &c. were esteem- 
ed holy among tiie Romans, and cultivated with 
religious cereaionies. " Maenorum flumiuum," 
says Seneca, " capita reveromur^ subita ct ex 
abdito vasti amnis eruptio a;ras habet ; coluntur 
aquarum calentlum fontes, et stagna quxdam, vel 
opacitas, vel immensa altitudo sacravit." Ep. 41 . 
It was customary to throw little pieces of money 
into those fountains, lakes, &c. which had the re- 
putation of being sacred, as a mark of venera- 
tion for those places, and to render the presiding 
deities propitious. Suetonius mentibns this prac- 
tice in the annual vows which he says the Ro- 
mas people made for Xhe health of Augustus. 


I 12 

K L E O A N T K P I S T L E S. 

Book I. 

«f the ground, as by its own strength and 
fulness. It is navigable ahiiost as soon as 
it has quitted its source, and wide enough 
to admit a tree passage for vessels to pass 
by each other, as they sailwith or against 
the stream. The current runs so strong, 
though the ground is level, that the large 
barges which go down the river have no 
occasion to make use of their oars; while 
those which ascend find it difficult to ad- 
vance, even with the assistance of oars 
and poles; and this vicissitude of labour 
and ease is exceedingly amusing when 
one sails up and down merely for plea- 
sure. The banks on each side are shaded 
with the verdure of great numbers of ash 
and poplar trees, as "clearly and distinct- 
ly seen in the stream, as if they were ac- 
tually sunk in it. The water is cold as 
snow, and as white too. Near it stands 
an ancient and venerable temple, where- 
in is placed the river-god Clitumnus, 
clothed in a robe, whose immediate pre- 
sence the prophetic oracles here deliver- 
ed sufticiently testify. Several little cha- 
pels are scattered round, dedicated to 
particular gods, distinguished by diffe- 
rent names, and some of them too pre- 
siding over different fountains. For, be- 
sides the principal one, which is as it 
were the parent of all the rest, there are 
several other lesser streams, which, tak- 
ing their rise from various sources, lose 
themselves in the river: over which a 
bridge is built, that separates the sacred 
part from that which lies open to com- 
mon use. Vessels are allowed to come 
above this bridge, but no person is per- 
mitted to swim except below it*. The 
Hispalletest,to whom Augustus gave this 
place, furnish a public batli, and likewise 
entertain all strangers at their own ex- 
pense. Several villas, attracted by the 
beauty of this river, are situated upon its 
borders. In short, every object that pre- 
sents itself will afford you entertainment. 
You may also amuse yourself with num- 
berless inscriptions, that are fixed upon 
the pillars and walls by different per- 
.Sf>ns, celebrating the virtues of the foun- 
tain, and the divinity that presides over 
it. There are many of them you will 
greatly admire, as there are some that 
will make you laugh ; but I must correct 

♦ The touch of a naked body was thought to 
pollute these consecrated waters, as appears from 
a pnssaije in Taei^us, 1. 14. an. c. "^2. 

f Inhabitants ef a town La Ornbna, now call- 
fcu Sf e!lo. 

myself when I say so; you are too hu- 
mane, I know, to laugh upon such an 
occasion. I'areweK 


To Ursiis. 

tt is long since I have taken either a 
*- book or pen in my hand. It is long 
since I have known the sweets of leisure 
and repose; since I have known, in short, 
that indolent but agreeable situation of 
doing nothing, and being nothing; so 
much have the affairs of my friends en- 
gaged me, and prevented me from en- 
joying the pleasures of retirement and 
contemplation. There is no sort of stu- 
dies, however, of consequence enough 
to supersede the duty of friendship : on 
the contrary, it is a sacred tie which they 
themselves teach us most i-eligiously to 
preserve. Farcwel. 

To Fabatkst. 

YOUR concern to hear of my wife's 
miscarriage will be equal, I know, 
to the earnest desire you have that we 
should make you a great-grandfather. 
The inexperience of her youth rendered 
her ignorant that she was breeding; so 
that she not only neglected the proper 
precautions, but managed herself in a 
way extremely unsuitable to a person in 
her circumstances. But she has severely 
atoned for her mistake by the utmost 
hazard of her life. Though you should 
(as most certainly you will) be afflicted 
to see yourself thus disappointed in your 
old age, of the immediate hopes of leav- 
ing a family behind you; yet it deserves 
your gratitude to the gods, that in the 
preservation of your graad-flaughter, yoii 
have still reason to expect that blessing; 
an expectation so much the more certain, 
as she has given this proof, though an 
unhappy one indeed, of her being capa- 
ble of bearing children. These, at least, 
are the reflect if)ns by which I endeavour 
to confirm my own hopes, and comfort 
myself undermy present disappoiivtment. 
You cannot more ardently wish to have 
great-grandchildren than I do to have 
children, as the dignity of both our fa- 
milies seems to open to them a sure road 
to honours, and we shall leave them the 
glory of descending from a long race of 

* H.s 'Vif^'s 

Sect. II. 

P L I N Y. 


ancestors, whose fame is as extensive as 
tlieir nobility is ancient. M;iy wc l)ut 
have the pieasinc olsceinij them born, it 
will make us amends fur the present dis- 
appointment. I'arewel. 



Tu Jlitpiilla ^. 

'HF.N I consiiler that yon love your 
niece even more tenderly than if 
she were vour own daughter, I ought in 
the first place to ini'orm you of her ru- 
coverv before I tell von she has been ill ; 
that tlie sentiments of joy at the one 
may leave you no leisure to be alllicted 
at the other; though I tVar indeed, after 
your first transports of gratulation are 
over, you will feel some concern, and in 
the midst of your joy for the danger she 
hasesca|)ed, will irendjle at the thought 
of that which he has undergonr. She 
is now, however, in good spirits, and 
again restored to herself and to me, as she 
is making the same pr<)gri'ss in the re- 
covery of her strength and health that 
she did in the loss of them. To say the 
truth (and I may now safely tell it you), 
she was in the utmost hazard of her life; 
not indeed from any fault of her own, but 
a little from the inexperience of hor 
youth. To this must be imputed the 
cause of her miscarriage, and the sad ex- 
perience she has had of the conse(juence 
of not knowing she was breeding. But 
though this misfortune lias deprived you 
of the consolation of a nephew, or niece, 
to supply the loss of your brother; you 
must remember that blessing seems ratlier 
to be deferred than denied, since her life 
is preserved from whom that happiness is 
to be expected. I entreat jou then to 
represent thisaccident to your fatherf in 
the most favourable light; as your sex 
are the best advocates in cases of this 
kind, Farewel. 


To Miiuttiumis. 

nEG vou would excuse me this one 
day: TitiniusCapito is to recite a per- 
formance of his, and I know not whether 


* His wife's aun'. 

f Vabattts, gran Ifathe • to Caluhurnia, Pliuy's 

it is tnnst my inclination or my duty to 
attend him. Me is a man of a most 
amiable ilisposition, and justly to be num- 
bered among the brightest ornaments of 
our ai^e: he stu<liouslv cultivates the po- 
lite arts hiuKL'lf, and generously admire* 
and encourages them in others. To se- 
veral who have distinguished themselve* 
bv their cnm|>ositions, hi; has been the 
defence, the refuge, and the reward; as 
he aiiinds a glorious model and example 
to all in general. In a word, he is the 
restorer and reformer of learning, now, 
alas! well nigh grown obsolete and de- 
cayed. His hou:ie is open to every man 
of genius who has any works to rehearse; 
and it is not there alone that he attends 
these assemblies with the most obliging 
good-nature. I am sure, at least, he ne- 
ver once excused himself from mine, if 
he happened to be at Rome. I should 
therefore with a more than ordinary ill 
ijrace refuse to return him the same fa- 
vour, as the occasion of doing it is pe- 
culiarly glorious. Should not I think 
nivself obliged to a man, who, if I were 
engaged in any law-suit, generously at- 
tended the cause in which I was interest- 
ed? And am I less indebted, now that 
mv whole care and business is of the H- 
terarv kind, for his assiduity in my con- 
cerns of this sort ? A point which, if not 
the only, is how ever the principal instance 
wherein I can be obliged. But though I 
owed him no return of this nature; though 
I were not engaged to him by the reci- 
procal tie of the same good offices he has 
done me ; yet not only the beauty of his 
extensive gen ins, us polite as it is severely 
correct, but the dignity of his subject 
would strongly incite me to be of his au- 
dience, lie has written an account of 
the deaths of several illustrious persons, 
some of which were my particular friends. 
It is a pious ollice then, it should seem, 
as I could not be present at their ob- 
sequies, to attend, at least, this (as I may 
call it) their funeral oration; which, 
though a late, is, however, for that rea- 
son, a more unsuspected tribute to their 
n)cmories. Farewel. 


To Sabinia iiu. 

x^ouii freed-man, whom you lately 
^ mentionedto me with displeasure, hrs 
bean with me, and tlirew hin.iself at my 
fee. with as much iubinissiouas he could 
I have 


havf done at your'. He cariirstly rc- 
«]iit>tc(l me vvitli many tears, and even 
\\ ith all the elo(|<RiKo of silt- nt Sorrow, to 
jiiterctdo tor him; in short, he convinced 
me by his wliole behaviour, that he sin- 
cerely repent.-^ ot" his t'ault. And I am 
persuaded he is thoroughly reformed, he- 
cause he seems entirely sensible ot his 
guilt, I know yon are an<^ry with him, 
and I know too, it is not witlio»it reason ; 
but clemency can never exert itself with 
more applause, than when there is the 
justest cause lor resentment. You once 
had an atlettion for this man, and, I hope, 
will have again: in the mean while, let 
me only prevail with you to pardon him. 
If he should incur your displeasure here- 
after, you will have so much the stronger 
plea in excuse for your anger, as you 
shew yourself more cxorable to him now. 
Allow something to his youth, to his 
tears, and to your own natural mildness 
of temper: do not make him uneasy any 
longer, and I will add too, do not make 
yourself so: for a man of your benevo- 
lence of heart cannot be angry Avithout 
feeling great regret. 1 am afraid, were 
1 to join my intreatics with his, Ishould 
seem rather to compel, than request you 
to forgive him. Yet I will not scruple to 
do it : and in so much the stronger terms, 
as I have very sharply and severely re- 
proved him, positively threatening never 
to interpose again in his behalf. But 
though it was proper to say this to hiiu, 
in order to make him more fearfid of of- 
fending, I do not say so to you, I may, 
perha[>s, again have occasion to intreat 
you upon ins account, and again obtain 
your forgiveness; supposing, I mean, his 
error should be such as may become me 
to intercede for, and you to pardon. 


E L E C. A X T E I' I S T E E S. 

Uook I. 


To Sabi?iiamis. 

GREATLY approve of your having, 
in compliance with my letter, received 
again into your family and favour, a 
freed-man, whom you once admitted into 
a share of your all'ection. It will aflbrd 
vou, I doubt not, great satisfaction. It 
certainly, at least, has me, both as it is a 
proof that you are capable of being go- 
verned in your passion, and as it is an in- 
stance of your paying so much regard to 
me, as either to yield to my authority, or 

to comply wiih my request. Y'ou will 
accept, theret'ore, at once, both of my' 
applause and my thanks. At the same 
time I must advise you to bo disposed 
tor the future to pardon the errors of your 
people, thoui^h there should be none to 
interpose in their behalf. Farewel. 



To Fiiscus. 

ou desire to know in what manner { 
dispose of my time, in my summer 
villa at Tuscum. I rise just when I find 
myself in the humour, though generally 
\\\\\\ the sun; sometimes indeed sooner, 
but seldom later. \\'hcn I am up, I 
continue to keep theshuttcrsof my cham- 
ber-windows closed, as darkness and si- 
lence wonderfully promote meditation. 
Thus free and abstracted from those out- 
ward objects which dissipate attention, I 
am left to my own thoughts; nor sufl'er 
my mind to wander with my eyes, but 
keep my eyes in subjection to my mind, 
w hich, w hen they are not distracted by a 
multiplicity of external objects, see no- 
thing but what the imagination represents 
to them. If I li:ive any composition upon 
my hands, this is the time I choose to 
consider it, not only with respect to the 
general plan, but even the style and ex- 
pression, wtiich I settle and correct as if 
I were actually writing. In this manner 
I compose more or less as the subject is 
more or le<s difticult, and I find myself 
able to retain it. Then I call my secre- 
tary, and, opening the shutters, I dictate 
to him what I hava composed, after 
whici) 1 dismiss him for a little w^hilc, and 
then call him in again. About ten or 
eleven of the clock (for I do not observe 
one fixed hour), according as the weather 
proves, I either walk upon my terrace, 
or in the covered portico, and there I 
continue to meditate or dictate what re- 
mains upon the subject in which I am en- 
gaged. I'rom thence I get into my cha- 
riot, where I employ myself as before, 
when I w as walking or in my study ; and 
find this changing of the scene preserves 
and enlivens my attention. At my re- 
turn home, 1 repose myself; then I take 
a walk; and after that, repeat aloud 
some (ireek or Latin oration, not so. 
much for the sake of strengthening my 
elocution, as my digestion; though in- 
deed the voice at the same time finds its 


SLCt. II. 

P L I X Y. 


account in this prncticp. Tlivii I walk 
ag-'iii, am aiioiiitftl, tiiko iiiv i-xcrcisi-s, 
uuU go into tlic batli. At sn|i|>fr, it 1 
have only my wife or a few tVicuddwith 
ine, sonic author is read to us; and alter 
su|)|)(jr we are entertained cither with 
iimsic or an interlude. When that is fi- 
nished, I take my walk with my family, 
in the nund)er of which I am not without 
.some persons of literature. Tlius we pass 
our evenings in various conversatitju ; 
and the day, even when it is at the long- 
est, steals away imperceptibly. I'pou 
some occasions, 1 change the order in 
certain of the articles above-mentioned. 
For instance, if I have studied longer 
or walked more than usual, after my se- 
cond sleep and reading an oration or two 
aloud, instead of using mv chariot I get 
©n horseback; bv which means I take as 
much exercise and lose less time. The 
visits of mv friends from the neighbour- 
ing villages claim some part of the day; 
and sometimes, by an agreeable interrup- 
tion, they come iu very seasonably to re- 
lieve nic when I am fatiiiued. I now 
and then amusemyself with s|)orting, but 
always take my tablets into the field, that 
though I should not meet with game, I 
may at least bring home something. Part 
•f my time too (though not so much as 

they desire) is allotted to my tenants; 
and I finil their rustic coniplaiiits give a 
zest to my studies and engagements of 
tiie jjoliter kiiid. I'urewel. 

L ]■: 'J' T ]•: K i.xxxvi. 

To the Same. 

You arc much pleased, I fiul, with 
the account I gave yoli in mv former 
letter, of the manner in which I spend 
the summer season at Tuscnm; and de- 
sire to know what alteration I make in 
my method, when 1 am at Laurcntiaum 
in the winter. None at all, except abridg- 
ing myself of my sleep at noon, and em- 
])loying part of the night in study : and 
if any cause req\iircs my attendance at 
Kome (which in winter very frequently 
happens), instead of having interludes or 
music alter supper, I meditate iipon what 
1 have dictated, and by often revising it 
in my own mind, nx it in mv memory. 
Thus I have given you my scheme of 
life in summer and winter; to which you 
mav add the intermediate seasons of spring 
ami autumn. As at those times I lose 
nothing of the day, so I study but little 
ill the night. Farewcl. 

] 2 

Kpistolarnjii Sylloge: 








Sucai Anne Bullen to King Henry. 


YOUR grace's displeasure and my iin- 
prisonmentarethirif^s so strange unto 
ine, as what to write, or Avliat to excuse, 
I am altogether ignorant. Wliereas you 
send unto me (willing me to confess a 
truth, and so obtain your favour) by such 
an one whom you know to be mine an- 
cient professed enemy, I no sooner re- 
ceived thismessageby him, than I rightly 
conceived your meaning; and if, as you 
say, confessing a truth, indeed, may pro- 
cure my safety, I shall, with all willing- 
ness and duty, perform your command. 
Eut let not your grace ever imagine, 
that your poor wife will ever be brought 
to acknowledge a fault, where not so 
much as a thought thereof preceded. 
And, to speak a truth, never prince had 
Avife more loyal in all duty, and in all 
true afFection, than you have ever found 
in Anne liullen ; with which name and 
place I could willingly have contented 
myself, if God and your grace's pleasure 
had been so pleased. Neither did I ;>t 

any time so far forget m5'self in my ex- 
altation, or received queenship, but that 
I always looked for such an alteration as 
now 1 find ; for the ground of my pre- 
ferment being on no surer foundation 
than your grace's fancy, the least alter- 
ation, I know, was fit and sufTicient to 
draw that fancy to some other subject. 
\ ou have chosen lue from a low estate to 
be your queen and companion, far be- 
yond my desert and desire. Jf then you 
found me worthy of such honour, good 
your grace let not any light fancy, or 
bad counsel of mine enemies, withdraw 
your princely favour from me ; neither 
let that stain, that unworthy stain, of a 
disloyal heart towards 3'our good grace, 
ever cast so foul a blot on your most du- 
tiful wife, and the infant princess your 
daughter. Try me, good king, but let 
me have a lawful trial ; and let not mj 
sworn enemies sit as my accusers and 
judges ; yea, let me receive an open trial 
(for ruy truth shall fear no open shame); 
then shall yon see either mine innocence 
cleared, yonr suspicion and conscienc* 
satisfied, the ignominy and slander of the 
world stopped, or my guilt openly de- 
clared. So that \vhat«oeT«r God or yo« 


Sect. I. 



raav dftermine of inr, your '^race may 
be freed tVoin an open censure, and mine 
offence being so lawfully proved, your 
grace is at liberty, both before (iod and 
man, not only toexecute worthy |*iinish- 
ment on me, as an unlawful wile, but to 
follow your aflt-ttion, already settled on 
that party, for whose sake I am now as I 
am, whose name I could some good while 
since have pointed unto your grace, be- 
ing not ignorant of my suspicion therein. 
But if vou have already deteruiiued of 
mc, and that not only my death, but an 
infamous slander nmst bring you the en- 
joying of your desired happiness, then I 
desire of (iml that lie will pardon your 
great sin therein, aiid likewise mine ene- 
mies the instruments thereof; and that 
he will not call vou to a strict account 
for your unpriiuely and cruel usage of 
me, at his general judgment-seat, where 
both vou and mvself must shortly appear, 
and in wlin>;o judgment, I doubt not 
(whatsoever the world may think of me), 
mine innocence shall be openly known 
and suftkientlj- cleared. My last and 
only reqiif^st shall be, that myself may 
only bear the burthen of vour grace's 
displeasure, and that it mav not touch 
the iimocent souls of those poor gentle- 
men, who, as 1 understand, arc likewise 
in strait imprisonment for mv sake. If 
ever I found favour in vour sight, if ever 
the name of Anne liuUen hath been 
pleasing in your ears, then let me obtain 
this request; and I will so leave to trou- 
ble your grace any farther, with my 
earnest prayers to the Trinity to have 
your grace in his good keeping, and to 
direct you in all your actions. From 
my doleful prison in the Tower, the (ith 
of May. Your most leyal and ever 
faithful wife. 

migkty God continue your goodness so 
still, for thereupon hangeth the greatest 
part of my poor husband's comfort and 
mine. The cause of my writing at thig 
lime, is to certify your especial good 
mastership of my great and extreme ne- 
cessity ; w hich, on and besides the charg» 
of mine own house, do pay weekly fifteea 
shillings for the board-wages of my pf)or 
husband and his servant; for the main- 
taining whereof I have been compelled, 
of verj'^ necessity, to sell part of my ap- 
parel, for lack of other substance to make 
money of. Wherefore my most Ijumblc 
petition and suit to your mastership at 
this tmie is, to desire your mastership's 
favourable advice and counsel, w hether I 
may be so bold to attend upon the king's 
most gracious highness. 1 trust there is 
no doubt in the cause of my impediment; 
for the young man, being a ploughman, 
had been diseased with the ague by the 
space of three years before that he de- 
parted. And besides this, it is now 
iive weeks since he departed, and no 
other person diseased in the house since 
that time; wherefore I most humbly 
beseech your especial good mastership 
(as my only trust is, and else know not 
what to do, but utterly in this world to 
be undone) for the love of Cod to con- 
sider the premises, and, thereupon, of 
your most abundant goodness, to shew 
your most favourable help to the com- 
forting of my poor husband and me, in 
this our great heaviness, extreme age, 
and necessity. And thus we and all ours 
shall daily, during our lives, pray to God 
for the prosperous success of your right 
honourable dignity. By your poor con- 
tinual oratrix. 



A Letter from Ludi/ More to Mr. Se- 
crctury Croiuncll. 

T>TGHT honourable and mv especial 
*^*- good master Secretary : in ray most 
humble wise I recommend me unto your 
good mastership, acknowledging mvself 
to be most deeply bound to your good 
mastership for vour manifold goodness 
and loving favour, both before this time 
and yet daily, now also shew n towards 
my poor husband and me, I pray Al- 

Ladi/ Stafford to Mr. Secretary Cronnvell. 


ASTER secretary, after my poor re- 
commendations, which are little to 
be regarded of me that am a poor ba- 
nished creature, this shall be to desire 
you to be good to my poor husband and 
to me. I au) sure it is not unknown to 
you the high displeasurethat botli he and 
i have both of the king's highness and 
the queen's grace, by the reason of 
our marriage Vithout their knowledge, 
wherein w"e both do yield ourselves 
faulty, and do acknowledge that we did 
'l 3 n<^'t 



Book n. 

not well to be so hasty or so bold without 
their kiuiwlejgc. But one thinii, i;*»h1 
master secretary, coiisiiler, that lie was 
young, and love overcame reason; and 
tor my part I saw so much honesty in 
liim that I loved him as well as he did 
me, and was in bon<lage, and glad 1 was 
to be at liberty: so that tor my part 
I saw that all the world did set so little 
by me, and he so much, that I thought 1 
could lake no better v\ay but to take him 
and to torsake all other ways, and live a 
poor honest life with him; and so 1 do 
put no doui)ts but we should, it" we might 
once be so ha|jpy to recover the kinsj's 
gracious tavour and the (jueen's. For 
well I might have had a greater man of 
birth, and a higher; but I assure you I 
could never have had one that should have 
loved me so well, nor a more honest man. 
And besides that, he is both come of 
an ancient stock, and again as meet (if 
it was his grace's pleasure) to do the 
king service as any young gentleman 
in his court. Therefore, good master 
secretary, this shall be my suit to you, 
that for the love that well I know you do 
bear to all my blood, though for my part 
I have not des^erved it but little, by the 
reason of my vile conditions, as to put 
my husband to the king's grace, that he 
may do his duty as all other gentlemen 
do. And, good master secretary, sue for 
U.S to the king's highness, and beseech 
his hi;ihness, which ever was wont to 
take pity, to have pity on us; and that 
it would please his grace of his goodness, 
to speak to the (jucen's grace for us; for 
as far as I can perceive, her grace is so 
highly disijleased with us both, that with- 
out the king be so good lord to us as to 
withdraw his rigour and sue for us, we 
are never like to recover her grace's fa- 
vour, which is too heavy to bear. And 
seeing there is no remedy, for (iod's 
sake help us, for we have been now a 
quarter of a year married, I thank God, 
and t<.o late now to call that again: w here- 
fore there is the more need to help. But 
if I were at my liberty and might chuse, 
I assure you, master secretary, for my 
little time, I have tried so much honesty 
to be in him, that I would rather beg my 
bread with him than to be the greatest 
queen christened; and I believe verily he 
is in the same case with me, for I believe 
verily he would not forsake me to be a 
king; therefore, good master secretary, 
being we are so well together, and do 

intend to live .so honest a life, though it 
be but poor, shew part of your goodness 
to us, as well as vou do to all the world 
besides; for 1 |)ron"iise you ye have the 
name to help all them that have need; 
and amongst all your suitors, 1 dare be 
bold to say that you have no matter more 
to be pitied than ours; ami therefore for 
Ci(,d's sake be good to u.s, for in you is 
alt fiur trust; and I beseech you, good 
master secretary, pray my lord my father, 
and my laiiy, to be gooil to u.s, and to 
let me have their blessings, and my hu.s- 
band their good will, and 1 will never 
desire more of thrm. Also i pray you de- 
sire my lord of Ncniblk, and my lord my 
br( tlier to be good to us; I dare not write 
to them, they are so cruel against us; but 
if with any ))ain that I could take with 
my life 1 niight win their gooel wills, I 
])romise you there is no child living would 
venture more than I; and .so 1 pray you 
to report by me, and you shall find my 
writing true; and in all points which I 
n)ay please them in, I shall be ready to 
obey them nearest my husband, whom I 
am most bound to, to whom 1 most hear- 
tily beseech you to be good unto, which 
for my sake is a poor banished man, for 
an honest and a godly cause; and being 
that 1 have read in old books that some 
for as just causes liave by kings and 
queens been pardoned by the suit of good 
folks, I trust it shall be our chance, 
through your good help, to come to tln^ 
same, as knoweth the God who .sendeth 
you health and heart's ease. Scribbled 
with her ill hand, who is your poor 
humble suitor always to command. 


Earl of Essex to 2ueen Elizabeth. 

THMtoM a mind delighting in sorrow, 
^ from .syjirits wasted in passion, from 
a heart torn in pieces with care, grief, 
and travel, from a man that hateth him- 
self and all things that keepcth him alive, 
^^hat service can your majesty expect, 
since your service past deserves no more 
than banishment or ])rescription in the 
cursedest of all other countries.' Nay, 
nay, it is your rebels' pride and success 
that nmst give me leave to ran.som my 
life out of this hateful prison of my 
loathed body ; Avhich if it happen so, 
vour majesty shall have no cause to Hiis-r 
^ ' lik., 

Sect. I. 



like tho fashion of my death, since the 
course of niv lilo coiiM never please you. 
Your majesty's exiled servant. 



LordC'iancellorE'^i-rton to thcEarl of Essex. 

T is often seen, that he that stands by 
sceth more than he that plaveth the 
game; and, for tlie most part, every one 
in his own cause slaudeth in his own 
light, and seeth not so clearly as he 
should. Your lordship hath dealt in 
other men's causes, and in great and 
veiyiify affairs, willi great wisdom and 
judgment; now your own is in hand, you 
are not to contemn or refu'^e the advice 
of any that love you, how simple soever. 
In this order I ranlc uivself among others 
that love you, none more simple, and 
}ionc that love you with more true and 
honest alFection; which shall plead my 
excuse if you sh.'dl either mistake or 
mistrust my words or meaning. But, in 
your lordship's, honourable wisdom, I 
neither doubt nor suspect the one nor the 
other. 1 will not presume to advise you, 
hut shoot my bolt and tell you what I 
think. The beginning and long con- 
tinuance of this so unsi asonable discon- 
tentment you have seen and proved, by 
vhicli vou aim at the end; if you hold 
still this course, which hitherto you find 
to be worse and worse (and the longer 
you go, the further you go out of the 
way), there is little hope or likelihood the 
end will be better: vou are not yet gone 
60 far, but that vou may well return ; the 
return is safe, but the progress is dan- 
gerous and desperate in this course you 
hold, if you have anv enemies, you do 
that for them which tlicv could never do 
for themselves. Your friends yon leave 
to scorn and contempt: vou forsake 
yourself, and overthrow vour fortunes, 
and ruin your honour and reputation: 
vou give that comfort and courage to 
the ioreign enemies, as greater they can- 
not have; for what can be more welcome 
and pleasing news, than to hear that her 
majesty and the realm are maimed of so 
worthy a member, who hath so often and 
so valiantlj' quelled and daunted them.'' 
\ ou forsake your countrv when it hath 
most need of your counsel and aid: and 
lastly, you fail in your indissoluble duty 
which you owe unto your most gracious 
sovereign, a duty imposed upon you not 
by' nature and policy only, but by the 

religious and sacred bond wherein the 
divine majesty of Almightv Ood h;ithby 
the I ide of Christianity obliged you. 

lor the fuur first, your constant reso- 
lution mav perhaps move yon to esteem 
tlieu) a-J light; but b';ing \\tA\ ^\eighed, 
thcv are not light, nor lightly to be re- 
garded. And for the four last, it may 
be that the clearness of your own con- 
science may seem to con'ent yourself; 
but that is nf»t enouijh; for these duties 
stand not only in contemplation or inw.ird 
meditation, and cannot be performed l)ut 
by external actions, and where tiiat f liU 
eth the substance also laileih. This be- 
ing your presents' ate and condition, what 
is to be done? What is the remedy, niy 
good lord? I lack judgment and wisdom 
to advise you, but I will never want au 
honest true heart to wish you well; nor, 
biing warranted by a good conscience, 
will fear to speak that I ti)ink. I have 
begun plainly, be not otlended if I pro- 
ceed so. Bene credit qui ccdit teinpori : 
and Seneca saith, Cedendum est fortuncE. 
The medicine and remedy is not to con- 
tend and strive, but humbly to yield and 
submit. Have you given cause, and ye 
take a scandal unto you? then all you 
can do is too little to make satisfaction. 
Is cause of scandal given unto your Yet 
policy, duty, and religion enforce you to 
sue, yield, and submit to our sovereign, 
between whom and you there can be uo 
equal proportion of duty, where God re- 
(juires it as a principal duty and care to 
himself, and when it is evident that great 
good may ensue of it to your friends, 
vourself, your country, and your sove- 
reign, ami extreme harm by thecontrary. 
Tliere can be no disiionour to yield; but 
in denyingjdishnuour and impiety. The 
ditliculty (mv good lord) is to conquer 
yourself, which is the height of true va- 
lour and fortitude, whereunto all your 
honourable actions have tended. Do it 
in this, and (Jod will be pleased, her 
niajestv (no doubt) well satisfied, your 
country will take good, and your friends 
comfort by it; and yourself (I mention 
you last, for that of all these you esteem 
yourself least) shall receive honour; and 
your enemies (if V()u have any) shall be 
disappointed of their bitter sweet hope. 

I have delivered what I think sunply 
and plainly: I leave you to determine 
accordingto vour own wisdom: it I have 
erred, it is error amoris, anil not amor 
crroris. Construe and accept it, I be- 
I J. seech. 



Book IL 

seech you, as I meant it: not as an ad- 
vice, but as an opinion to be allowed or 
cancelled at your pleasure. If 1 niitflit 
conveniently havt- conferred with your- 
self in person, I would not bave troubled 
you witii so nianv idle blots. Whatso- 
ever voii judge of this my opinion, yet be 
assured niv desire is to further all good 
means that niav tend to vour lordsliip's 
good. And so wishing you all happiness 
and honour, I cease. Your lordship's 
most re.idy and faithful, though unable 
peor friend. 


The Earl's Aiimcr. 

m rv very good lord, though there is nr>t 
^^ that man this day living whom I 
would sooner make judge of any question 
that might concern me than yourself; 
yet you must give me leave to tell you,, 
that in some cases I must appeal from all 
earthly judges; and if in anv, ihensurciv 
in this, when the highest judge on earth 
hath imposed upon me the lieaviest pu- 
nishment, wit.'iout trial or hearing. Since 
then I nmst either answer your lordship's 
arguments, or else forsake mine own just 
defence, I will force mine aking head to 
dome service for an hour. I must first 
deny my discontentment (which was 
forced to be an humourous discontent); 
and in that it was unseasonable, or is so 
long continuing, your lordship should ra- 
ther condole with me tiian expostulate : 
natural seasons are expected here below, 
but violent and unreasonable storms come 
from above; there is no tempest to the 
passioiiate indignation of a prince, nor 
yet at any time so unseasonable as when 
it lighteth on those that mightexpect an 
harvest of their caret'ul and painful la- 
bours. He that is once wounded nmst 
needs feel smart till his hurt be cured, or 
the part hurt become senseless. But cure 
I expect none, her majesty's heart being 
obdurate; andbe without sense I cannot, 
being of tlesh and blood. But vou may 
say, I aim at the end ; I do more than 
aim, for I see an end of all my fortunes, 
I have set an end to all my desires. In 
this course do I any thing for mine ene- 
mies.' When I was present I found them 
absolute, and therefore I had rather they 
should triumph alone, than have me at- 
tendant upon their chariots. Or do I 
leave my friends.'' When I was a courtier 

I coidd sell them no fruit of my love, and 
now that I am an hermit, they shall bear 
no envy for their love to me. Or do I 
forsake nivself, because I do not enjoy 
myself.^ Or do 1 overthrow my fortune.s, 
because I build not a fortune of paper 
walls, whith every pulVof wind hloweth 
down.' Or do I ruinate mine honour, 
because I leave following the pursuit, or 
wearing the false mark or the shadow of 
honour ? Do 1 give courage or comfort 
to the enemies, because I neglect myself 
to encounter them, or because 1 keep my 
heart from business, though 1 cannot keep 
my fortune from declining? No, no, I 
give every one of those considerations his 
due right, and the more I Aveigh then), 
the more I find myself justified from of- 
fending in anv of them. As for the two 
last objections, that I forsake my country 
when it hath most need of me, and fail 
in that indissoluble duty which I owe to 
my sovereign ; 1 answer. That if my 
country had at this time any need of my 
public service, her majesty that governeth 
it would not have driven me to a private 
life. I am tied to my country by two 
bonds; one public, to discharge carefully 
and industriously that trust which is com- 
mitted to me; the other private, to .sa- 
crifice for it my life and carcass, which 
hath been nourished in it. Of the first I 
am free, being dismissed by her majesty : 
of the other, nothing can free me but 
death, and therefore no occasion of per- 
formance shall sooner offer itself, but I 
will meet it halfway. The indi.ssoluble 
duty I owe unto her majesty, the service 
of an earl and of marshal of England, 
and I have been content to do her the 
service of a clerk, but I can never serve 
her as a villain or a slave. But you say 
I must give way to time. So I do ; for 
now that I see the storm come, I have 
put myself into harbour. Seneca saith, 
we must gire way to fortune: I know 
that fortune is both blind and strong, and 
therefore I go as far as I can out of the 
way. You say the remedy is not to strive : 
I neither strive nor seek for remedy. But 
you say, I must yield and submit : I can 
neither yield myself to be guilty, nor this 
my imprisonment, lately laid upon me, to 
be just; 1 owe so nmch to the author of 
truth, as I can never yield truth to be 
falsehood, nor falsehood to be truth. Have 
I given cause, you ask, and yet take a 
scandal ? No, 1 gave no to take up 
.so much as fimbria his complaint: fori 


Sect. I. 



did totuin Ulum cnrporc nccipcre; I pa- 
tiently bear and sensibly feel all that I 
then rccei ved when this scandal was given 
mc. Nav, when the vilest of all indig- 
nities are done unto ine, doth religion en- 
force me to sue ? Doth Ciod retjnire it ? 
Is it impiety not to do it r Why ? Can- 
not princes err? Cannot subjeets receive 
wrong? Is an earthlv power infinite? 
Pardon inr, pardon me, iiiy lord, I can 
never sul^stribe to tiiese |jrinciplcs. Let 
Solomon's fool langh when he is stricken ; 
let tliosc that mean to make their profit 
of princes, shew to have no sense of 
princes injuries; let them acknowledge an 
infinite absoluteness on earth, that do not 
believe an absolute infiniteness in heaven. 
As for me, I have received wrong, I feel 
it; my cause is good, I know it; and 
whatsoever comes, all the powers on 
earth can never shew more strength or 
constancy in oppressing, than I can shew 
in suilering whatsoever can <»r shall be im- 
posed upon me. Your lordsiiip in the 
beginning of your letter makes me a 
player, and yourself a looker on ; and me 
a player of my own game, so you may see 
more than I ; but give me leave to tell 
you, that since you do but see, and I do 
suffer, 1 must of necessity feel more than 
you. I must crave your lordship's pa- 
tience to give him that hath a crabbed 
fortune, leave to use a crooked style. 
But whatsoever my style is, there is no 
heart more humble, nor more affected 
towards your lordship, than that of your 
lordship's poor friend. 


Sir Henry Sidnei/ to his son Philip Sid- 
ney, at school at Skreicsbury, A71. 15t)ti, 
Eliz. then bein^ of the age of tii'elve 

T HAVE received two letters from you, 
^ one written in Latin, the other in 
I'rench ; which 1 take in good part, and 
will you to exercise that practice of learn- 
ing often : for that will stand you in most 
stead, in that profession of life that j-ou 
are born to live in. And, since this is my 
first letter that ever I did write to you, I 
will not, that it be all empty of some ad- 
vices, which my natural care of vou pro- 
voketh me to wish you to follow, as docu- 
ments to you in this your tender age. Let 
your first action be, the lifting up of your 
riiind to Almighty Uod. by hearty pjayer. 

and feelingly digest the words you speak 
in prayer, with continual meditation, and 
thinking of him to whom you ()ray, and 
of the matter for which you pray. And 
use this as an ordinary, at, and at an or- 
dinary' hour. Whereby the time itself 
will put vou in remembrance to i\o that 
w liich you are accustomed to do. in that 
time apply your study to such hours as 
yonrdiscreet master doth assign you, ear- 
nestly; and the %\me (I know) he will s(* 
limit, as shall be both sufficient for your 
learning, and safe for your health. And 
mark the sense and the matter of that you 
read, as well as the words. So shall you 
both enrich your tongue with words, 
and your wit with matter; and judgment 
will grow as years growetli in you. J'c 
humble and obedient to your master, for 
unless you frame yourselfto obey others, 
yea and feel in yourself what obedience 
is, you shall never be able to teach others 
how to obey you. Be courteous of ges- 
ture, and affable to all men, with diver- 
sity of reverence, according to the dig- 
nity of the person. There is nothinjj 
that winneth so much with so little cost. 
Use moderate diet, so as, after your 
meat, you may find your wit fresher, and 
not duller, and your body more lively, 
and not more heavy. Seldom drink wine, 
and yet sometime do, lest being enforced 
to drink upon the sudden, you should 
find yourself inflamed. Use exercise of 
body, but such as is without peril (»f 
your joints or bones. It will increase 
your force, and enlarge your breath. De- 
light to be cleanh', as well in all parts of 
your body, as in your garments. It shall 
make you grateful in each comj^any, and 
otherwise loathsome. Give yourselfto be 
merry, for you degenerate from your fa- 
ther, if you find not yourself most able in 
wit and body, to do any thing, v.hcn you 
be most mLiry : but let your mirth be 
ever void of all scurrility, and biting 
words to any man, for a wound given by 
a word is oftentimes harder to be cured, 
than that which is given with the sword. 
Be you rather a hearer and bearer away 
of other men's talk, than a beginner or 
procurer of speech, otherwise you shall 
be counted to delight to hear yourself 
speak. If you hear a wise sentence, or 
an apt phrase, commit it to your me- 
mory, with respect of the circumstance, 
when you shall speak it. Let never oath 
be heard to come out of your moHlh, nor 
words of ribaldry : detest it in others, so 


I no 


Book ir. 

shall custom make to yourself a law 
against it in yourself. 15e mu(K-st in each 
assembly, ami rat Ik r hi- rebuked of light 
fellows, for niaid^-n-like bhainetacedness, 
than of your sad friends for pert boldncs-;. 
Think tipori everv vord tliat you will 
speak, betorc you utter it, and remember 
how nature hath rantpired up (as it were) 
the tongue with teeth, lips, yea and 
hair without the lips, and all betoken- 
ing reins, or bridles, fur the loose use 
of that member. Above all things tell 
no untruth, no not in trifles. The cus- 
tom of it is naughty, and let it not sa- 
tisfy you, that, for a time, the hearers 
take it for a truth; for after it will be 
known as it is, to your shame ; for there 
cannot be a greater reproach to a gen- 
tleman, than to be accounted a liar. 
Study and endeavour yourse'l' to be vir- 
tuously occupied. So shall you make 
such an habit of well d'ing in you, that 
you shall not know how to do evil, 
though you would. Remember, ni}' son, 
the noble blood you are descended of, by 
your mother's side; and think that only 
by virtuous life and good action, you may 
be an ornament ' o that illustrious family ; 
and otheru'ise, through vice and sloth, 
you shall be counted labcs '^cntris, one of 
the greatest curses that can happen to 
man. Weil (my little Philip), this is 
enough for me, and too much I fear 
for you. But if I shall find that this light 
meal of digestion nourish any thing the 
weak stomach of your young capacity, I 
will, as I find the same grow stronger, 
feed it with tougher food. Your loving 
father, so long as you live in the fear of 


Sir Henry Sidna/ to Robert Dudley Earl 
of Leicester. 

My dearest Lord, 
QiNCE this gentleman, sir Nicholas 
■^ Arnold, doth now repair into England 
to render account of his long and painful 
scrviec, lest my silence might be ai» ar- 
gument of my condemnation of him, I 
thought good to accompany him with 
these my letters, certifying your lordship, 
by the same, that I find iie hath been a 
mar\ellouspainfnlnian,and very diligent 
in inrjuiry for the queen's advantage, 
and in proceeding in the same more severe 
thiin 1 would have wished hini, or would 

have been myself in semblable service; 
but he .vaith lie followed his instructions. 
J)oubtlcss, the things which he did deal 
in are very dark ami intricate, by reason 
(lithe longtime passed without account; 
and he greatly impeached, for lack of 
an auditor, as I take it. In truth, m hat 
will fall out of it, I cannot sav; but 1 
fear he hath written too aftirmativcly 
upon Pirmingham's information: it is 
reported bv some of his adversaries, that 
he should triumph greatly upon a letter, 
supposed to be sent him lately from your 
lordship, as though, b}' the same, he 
should be encouraged to proceed more 
vehemently against the earl of Sussex, 
and to make his abode longer here than 
else he would. And th?.t he should use 
this bravery, either by shewing this let- 
ter, or by speech to me and to others. 
iNly lord, I believe the whole of this to 
be untrue: and, for so much as con- 
cerueth myself, I assure your lordship is 
a stark lie; for albeit he hath shewed m:-, 
as I believe, all the letters your lordship 
hath sent him, since my arrival here, and 
a good many sent before, yet in none of 
thora is their any such matter contained; 
neither yet did he to me, or to iny know- 
ledge to any other, of any letter sent by 
your lordship, make any such bravery, 
or like construction, as is reported. 

JMy dearest lord and brother, without 
any respect of me, or any brotherlike 
love borne me by you, but even for our 
natural country's cause (whereunto, of 
late, not a little to your far spreading 
fame, yon shew yourself most willingly 
to put your indefatigable and much help- 
ing hanfl), help to revoke me from this 
regiment, for being not credited, this 
realm will ruin under ray rule, perhaps- 
to my shame, but undoubtedly to 
England's harm: yea and will under 
any man whom the queen shall send, 
though he have the force of Hercules, 
the magnanimit}' of Caesar, the diligence 
of Alexaniler, and the eloquence ofTul- 
ly: her highness withdra\^ing her gra- 
cious countenance. Yea if it \nt but 
thou'dit that her highness hath not a re- 
solute and unremoveable liking ot him; 
as for no tale she will direct him 1o sail 
by anj- other compass than his own. His 
ship of regiment, whosoever he be, shall 
sooner rush on a rock than rest in a haven. 
I write not this, :is though 1 thought go- 
vernors here could not err, and so err, as 
they should be revoked. I'or 1 know 


'-Vet. I. 


and confess, that any one niav so err, 
vea, without any evil intent to her hiyh- 
ness's crown or country, as it sh;ill be 
convonii'nl and necessary to revoke him ; 
hul let it be done tlien with speed. Yet 
it' it be but conceived, that he be insuf- 
ficient to govern here, I mean of the so- 
vereip;n, or nia;,n^tiates, retire him, and 
send a new man to the helm. Episcopa- 
rum ejus uccipial alter: so as my counsel 
is (and vou •vhall tiiui it the soundest) tiiat 
the poveruor's continuance here, and his 
coMli nuance there, be concurrent and 
correhuive. l-'or while her iiit;liness will 
cmplovanvnian liere, all ihe countenance, 
all the credit, ail the commendation, yea 
and most absolute trust that mav be, is 
little enough. Cause once appearintf to 
withdraw that opinion, withdraw him 
too, if it be possible, even in th;;t instant. 
Of this I wotdd write more largely and 
more particularly, and to the cjueen's 
iiiajestv, and to all mv lords, Wi re it not 
that my many letters in this form already 
written, together with sundry arguments 
of my crazy credit there, did put me in 
hope of a speedy retlemption from this 
my miseral)Ie thraldom. A resolution of 
which my hope, my dearest lord, pro- 
cure me with speed: I have no more, 
but sub umbra alarum tuarum prote;^ut me 
JJcus. In haste I take my leave of your 
lordship, wishing to the same present, 
increasing, and immortal felicity. From 
Kilmainham, the '28th of June, 1560. 
Your lordship's bounden, fast, and obe- 
dient brother. 

P. S. 1 assure your lordshi p I do know 
that sir Nicholas Arnold hath spent, 
above all his entertainment, .3001. ster- 
ling in this realm. I meui lie hath spent 
80 much in this realm. 


The Rii^ht Houonrable Thomas Sacktil 
Lord Buckhunt, to Sir Ilcnrj/ Sidnej/. 

My Lord, 
T TRUST your lordship will pardon me, 

* in that I have not (as indeed possibly I 
could not) attend to make a meeting, 
tor the end of this variance betwixt your 
lordship and me: and now being this 
ilay also so wraptin business that I cannot 
by any means be a suretyer, I thought to 
A\ rite these few to your lordship, and 
therein to ascertain you, tliat, because 

• lur meeting with the master of the rolls, 

J 23 

and Mr. TK-nsias meeting, will be so un- 
certain; that, therefore, what time so- 
ever you shall like to appoint 1 will come 
to the rolls, and there your lordship and 
I, as good neighbours and friends, will, 
it we can, compound the cause of our- 
selves. If we cannot, we will both jjray 
the master of the rolls, as inditlereht, 
as I know he is, to persuade him to the 
right, that stands in the wrong. And 
thus, I doubt not, but there shall be a 
good end to both our contentions: your 
lordship not seeking that which is not 
yours; nor I, in any sort, meaning (o 
detain from you your own. This •J'.kl 
May, 1.57-1-. All yours to command. 

Sir Hi 



^.enry Sidney to Robert Dudley Earl 
of Leicester, 

iSIy dearest Lord, 

Ri.CF.ivED not your letter of the 2.)th 

of November, until the 21'th of this 
January, by James Prescot, who was 
seven times at the .sea, and put back 
again, before he could recover this coast. 

I trust I have satisfied your lordship 
with my writing, and others b)' my pro- 
curement, sent by Pakcnham, touching 
the false and malicious bruit of the earl 
of Essex's poisoning. If not, what you 
will have more done, shall be done. I 
am sorry I hear not how you like of that 
I have done, and the more, for tliat I am 
advertised of P;!gnaney's arrival there. 
I would not have doubted to have made 
Knell to have retracted his inconsiderate 
and foolish speech and writing; but God 
hath prevented me by taking him away, 
dying of the same disease that the earl 
died, which, most certainly, was free 
from any poison, and a mere tlux; a dis- 
ease appropriated to this countrv', and 
whereof there died many in the latter 
part (jf the last year, and some out of 
mine own household; and yet free from 
any suspicion of poison. 

And for my lord of Ormond's causes, 
I humbly beseech j'our lordship be my 
pawn, that I will to him justice as in- 
dillerently and speedily as I will to any 
man, considering the cause and nccc.v'sarv 
circumstances incident to the same; but 
for love, and loving offices, I will do as 
I find cause. I crave nothing at his 
hand, but that which he oweth to the 
queen, and that which her great libera- 



Book 11. 

lily, beside natural duty, bindeth him 
to. And if he will have of me that I owe 
him not, as he hath had, he cannot wi i 
it by crossing me, as I hear he doth in 
the court; and as I have cause to deem 
he doth in this country. In fine, my 
lord, I am ready to accord with him: 
but, my most dear lord and brother, be 
you upon your koopiiig for him, for if 
Essex had lived, you should have found 
him as violent an enrmy, as his heart, 
power, and cunning, \\oaId have served 
him to have b(.en; and for that their 
malice, 1 take God to record, I could 
brook nothing of thcn> both. 

Your lordship's latter written letter I 
received the same day I did the first, toge- 
ther with one from mv lord of Pem- 
broke to your lordship; by both which 
I find, to my exceeding great comfort, 
the likelihood of a marriage between his 
lordship and my daughter, which great 
honour to me, my mean lineage and kin, 
I attribute to mv match in your noble 
house; for which I acknowledge myself 
bound to honour and serve the same, to 
the uttermost of my power ; yea, so joy- 
fully have I at heart, that my dear child's 
so happy an advancement as this is, as, 
in truth, I would lie a year in close pri- 
son rather than it should break. But, 
alas! my dearest lord, mine ability 
answereth not my hearty desire. I am 
poor; mine estate, as well in livelihood 
and moveable, is not unknown to your 
lordship, which wanteth much to make 
me able lo e(]ual that, which I know ray 
lord of Pembroke may have. Two 
thousand pounds 1 confess I have be- 
queathed her, v\lticli your lordship 
knoweth I might better spare her when 
1 were dead, than one thousand living; 
and in truth, my lord, I have it not, 
but borrow it I must, and so 1 will: 
and if your lordship will get me leave, 
that I may i'evA my eyes with that joy- 
ful sight of their coupling, I will give 
her a cup worth five hundred pounds. 
Good my lord, bear with my poverty, 
for if I had it, little would 1 regard any 
sum of monev, but willingly would give 
it, protesting before the Almighty (.od, 
that if he, and all tlic powers on earth, 
would give me my choice for a husband 
for her, 1 would choose the earl of Pem- 
broke. I writ to my lord of Pem- 
broke, which herewith I send your lord- 
ship; and thus I end, in answering your 
moiX welcome and honourable letter, with 

my hearty prayer to Almighty God to 
perfect your lordship's good work, and 
requite you for the same; for I am not 
able. For myself I am in great despair 
to obtain the fee farm of my small leases; 
which grieveth me more for the discredit, 
during mine own time, than the lack of 
the gain to my succession, be it as God 

I find by divers means, that there is 
great expectation of mv wisiiing her ma- 
jesty's treasure appointed for the service 
of this country ; and, in truth, no man 
living would faincr nourish it than I; 
and, in proof thereof, I will abate one 
thousand pound-; of the quarterage due 
the last of INlarch, so as I may have the 
other four thousand due, then delivered 
to the treasurer's assign, together with 
that due the last of December last; and, 
if lean, I will abate every quarter one 
thousand pounds. The actual rebellion 
of theClanricardines, the O'Connors, and 
O'iMores, the sums of money delivered in 
discharge of those soldiers which were 
of my lord of I'ssex's regiment, and the 
great sums imprested in the beginning of 
my charge, well considered ; it may and 
will appear a good offer; and, I pray 
your lordship, let it have your favour- 
able recommendation. 

Now, my dearest lord, I have a suit 
unto you for a necessary and honest ser- 
vant of mine, Hercules Rainsford, whose 
father, and whole lineage, are devout 
followers to your lordship and family. 
My suit is, that whereas by composition 
with James Wingfield, he is constable of 
the castle of Dublin, and therein both 
painfully and carefully serveth, that it 
would please j'our lordship to obtain it 
for him during his life. Truly, my 
lord, like as j'ou should bind the poor 
gentleman, and all his honest friends, al- 
ways to serve you, for your bounty done 
to him; so shall I take it as a great 
merry done to myself: for truly I have 
found him a faithful and profitable ser- 
vant, and beside, he hath marrifd a good 
and an old servant of my wife's, (iood 
my lord, send Philip to me; there was 
never father had more need of his son, 
than I have of him. Once again, good 
iny lord, let me have him. 

I'or the state of this coimtry, it may 
please you to give credit to Prescot. 

I am now, even now, deadly weary of 
writing, and therefore 1 end, praying to 
the Almighty to bless you \\ 1th all your 


Sect. I. 


noble heart's desires. From Dundalk, 
this 4th of I'ehruary Ifilfy. Your most 
ajt^iui'cd brother at commaadincnt. 


Sir Henry Sidney to siueeii Elizabeth. 

3Iay it please your most excellent ma- 
To understand, that of late it hath 
pleased Almighty (Jod to call to his 
mercy the bishop of Ossory, and so the 
room of that see is become void, and to 
be now by your highness conferred. I 
have therefore thought it my duty, mov- 
«d in zeal for the reformation of the 
country and good of the people, humbly 
to beseech your majesty, that good care 
were had, that that church might be sup- 
plied with a fit man, and such a person as 
isacquainted with the language and man- 
ners of this country people, might be pro- 
moted to succeed in the place; ofwliich 
number I humbly recommend unto your 
exceUent majesty I\lr. Da\v Cieere, one 
that liath been long bred and brought 
up in the University of Oxford, a master 
of arts of good continuance, a man 
esteemed not meanly learned, besides 
■well given in religion, and of a modest 
discreet government, and commendable 
conversation, being a man specially noted 
unto me, by the good report of the lord 
archbishop of Dublin, for his sufficiency 
to the place, with a very earnest desire 
that (the same being the place of a suf- 
fragan under him), the said Cieere might 
be preferred unto it. The bishopric is 
but a mean living, yet a sufticient find- 
ing for an honest man. And because the 
sooner the place shall be full of an able 
man (such a one for his intcgritV as this 
man is «steemed), the greater fruit will- 
thereby grow to the church, lionour to 
your majesty, and no small hope to be 
conceived of good to the people ; where- 
of, as it bccometh me (having the prin- 
cipal charge of this realm under your 
majesty), 1 have a special care. I write 
not only to your majesty in this case, by 
a report of others, but partly by know- 
ledge and experience I have had of the 
man mygelf. And therefore am the more 
desirous that your majesty should gra- 
ciousiy allow of my commendation and 
choice, and give order for his admission 
aod cousecratioo, when it shall be your 


majesty's ])1 ensure to signify the same. 
And even so, with my most earnest and 
humble hearty prayer to tlie Almighty, 
long and happily to preserve your high- 
ness to reign over us, your majesty's 
humble and obedient subjects, to our in- 
estimable comforts, I humbly take my 
leave. From ynur majesty's castle of 
Athlone, the 1th of September I37ti. 
Your majesty's most humble, faithful, 
and obedient servant. 


Sir Henry Sidnei/ to Mr. Secretary If^al- 
singham, concerning the reports of the 
Earl of Essex's death. 

TMMKDiATr.LY upon my return out of 
■*■ Connaught to this city, which was the 
13th of this present October, and know- 
ing of the death of the earl of Essex, 
which I did not certainly till I came 
within thirty miles of this town, and that 
his body was gone to be buried at Car- 
marthen, and hearing besides, that let- 
t<^rs had been sent over, as well before ha 
death as after, that he died of poisoi\, I 
thought good to examine the matter a»; 
far as I could learn, and certify you, to 
the end you might impart the same to the 
lords, and both satisfy them therein, 
and all others, wiioiu it might please you 
to participate the same unto, and would 
believe the truth. For, in truth, there 
was no appearance or cause of suspiciou 
that could be gathered that he died of 
poison. l-"or the manner of his discasr 
was this: a llux took him on the Thurs- 
day at night, beiu"- the .'}()th of August 
last past, in his own house, where he had 
that day both supped and dined ; the day 
following he rode to the archbishop of 
Dublin's, and there supped and lodged ; 
the uext morning following he rode to 
the viscount of Baltinglass, and there did 
lie one night, and from thence returned 
back to this city : all these days he tra- 
velled hastily, fed three times a da\', with- 
out finding any fault, either throui(i\ in- 
flammation of his body or alteration of 
taste; but often he would compiain of 
grief in his belly, and sometimes say that 
lie had never hearty grief of nnnd, but 
that a tlux would accompany the same. 
After he returned from this journey he 
grew from day to day sicker and sicker, 




Book n. 

nnd having an Irish physician sent to him 
bv the enrl of Onnoiid, doctor Trevor, 
an Oxford man, and my physician, !Mr, 
Chaloncr, secretary of this state, and not 
niilearned in physic, and one that often, 
for good will, giveth counsel to his friends 
in cases of sickness, and one Mr. Knoll, 
an honest preacher in thus city, and a 
chaplain of his own, and a professor of 
physic, continually with him, they never 
ministered anythingto him againstpoison. 
The Irish physician affirmed before good 
witnessesthat he was not poisoned ; what 
the others do say of that matter, by their 
own writiiitrs, which herewith I send 
vou, yon shall perceive. And drawing 
towards his end, being especially asked 
by the archbishep of Dublin whether he 
thought that he was poisoned or no, con- 
stantly ailirnied that he thought he was 
not ; nor that he felt in himself any cause 
wliv l)e should conjecture so to be : in his 
sickness his colour rather bettered than 
impaired, no hair of his body shed, no 
nail altered! nor tooth loosed, nor any 
partof his skin blemished. And when he 
was opened it covild not appear that any 
intrail within his body, at any time, had 
been infected with any poison. And yet 
I tind a bruit there was that he was 
poisoned; and that arose by some words 
spoken by himself, and yet notoriginallj'- 
at the first conceived of himself, as it is 
thought bv the wisest here, and those 
that were continually ahont him ; but one 
that was very near him at that time, and 
whom he entirely trusted, seeing him in 
extreme pain with flux and gripings in 
bis belly, bv reason of the same, said to 
him, By tfie m?ss, my lord, you are 
poisoned; whereupon the yeoman of his 
cellar was presently sent for to him, and 
mildly and lovingly he (juestioned with 
him, saying, thai he sent not for him to 
burden fiim but to excuse him. The fel- 
low constantly answered, that if he had 
taken any hurt by his wine he was guilty 
of it, for, my lord (saith he), since you 
gave me warning in England to becare- 
lul of vour drink, you have drank none 
but it passed my hands. Then it was 
bruited, that the boiled water which he 
continually drank with his wine should 
be made of water wherein flax or hemp 
should be steeped, which tlie yeoman of 
his cellar flatly denied, aflinning the 
wattT which he always boiled for him was 
perfect good. Then it was imputed to 
ihe sugar ; he answered, he could get no 

better at thf steward's hands, and f.iir 
though it were not, yet wholesome 
enough, or else it had been likely that a 
great many should have had a shrewd 
turn; for my household and many more 
have occupied of the same almost these 
twelve months. The physicians were 
asked what thcvthotight, thatthev spoke 
doubtfully, saying it might be that he was 
poisoned, alleging that this thing or 
that thing might poison hin», since they 
never gave him medicine for it; they 
constantly aliirm that they never thought 
it, but for argument's sake, and partly to 
please the earl. He had two gentle- 
women that night at supper with him 
that the disease took him, and they 
coming after to visit him, and he hearing 
that thev were troubled with some loose- 
ness, said that he feared that they and he 
liad tasted of one <lrug, and his page 
(who was gone with his body over be- 
fore I returned). The women upon his 
words were afraid, but never sick, and are 
in as good a state of health as they were 
before they sapped with him. Upon sus- 
picion of his being poi.soned, Mr. Knell 
(as it was told me) gave him sundry 
times of unicorn's horns, upon which 
sometimes he vomited, as at other times 
he did, when he took it not. Thus I 
have delivered unto you, as much as I 
can learn of the sickness and death of this 
noble peer, whom 1 left when I left Dub- 
lin, in all appearance a lusty, strong, and 
pleasant man ; and before I returned 
his breath was out of his body, and his 
body out of this country, and undoubtedly 
his soul in heaven ; for in my life I never 
heard of a man to die in such perfectness; 
he was sick twenty or twenty-one days, 
and most of those days tormented with 
pangs intolerable; but in all that time, 
and all that torture, he was never heard 
speak an idle or angry word : after he 
yielded to die, he desired much to have 
his friends come to him, and to abide 
with him, which they did of sundry sorts, 
unto whom he shewed such arguments of 
hearty repentance of his life passed, so 
sound charity with all the world, such 
assurance to be partaker of the joys of 
heaven through the merits- of Christ's 
passion; such a joyful desire, speedily to 
be dissolved, and to enjoy the same, 
which he would sometimes say. That it 
pleased the Aliiiiglity to reveal nnto him 
that he should be partaker uf faS was to 
the exceeding admiru iwu of all that 


Sect. I. 



heard it). IIo had continually about 
liim folks of sundry dt-ijrrees, as un u of 
the Clergy, gtntlf'nn.-n, gontlowoinen, 
citii!;«-'n.s, and servants, unto all which 
he would use so .i;odly exhortations and 
grave admonitions, and that so aptly for 
the persons he spake unto, as in all his 
life he never seemed to be half so wise, 
learned, nor eloquent, nor of so good 
memory as at his death. He forgot not 
to send weighty warnings to some of his 
absent friends by message. Oft-times, 
when grievous pangs had il riven hiniout 
of slumbers, he would make such shew of 
comfort in spirit, and express it with such 
words, as many about him thought he 
saw and heard some heavenly voice and 
vision. Manv times after bitter pangs he 
would with cheerful countenance cry, 
Courage ! courage ! I have fought a good 
fight, and thus ought every true soldier 
to do, that fighteth under the standard of 
his captain and patron Jesus Christ. A- 
bout eleven of the clock before noon, on 
the '22d of September, with the name of 
Jesus issuing out of his mouth, he lel^ to 
speak anymore, and shortly after lifting 
up his hand to the name of Jesus, when 
he could not sjieak it himself; he ceased 
to move any more, but sweetly and mildly 
his ghost departed, by all Christians to 
be hoped into heavenly bliss. The Al- 
mighty grant that all professing Christ in 
their life, may at their death make such 
testimony of Christianity as this noble 
earl did. And thus ending my tedious 
letter, with the doleful (and yet com- 
fortable) end of this noble man, I wish 
you from the bottom of my heart, gooti 
life and long; and the joy of heaven at 
the end. From the castle of Dublin this 
2()th of October \!)~6. Your assured 
loving friend. 


Sir Henri/ Sidney to the Lordx of the Council. 

My very good lords, 
Ti TY humble duty remembered to your 
•'•'■»• honourable lordships: after I w^as 
come hither to deal in causes of the north, 
I received letters sent unto me bv an ex- 
press messenger from the archbishop of 
Dublin, to desire license of me to repair 
into England with some note and testi- 
mony from me, what I had found of him 
here, AxA albeit the motion seemed to 
nae at the first to be very sudden; yet 

con-;ideriug the manner of his writing, 
and the onveviug of his meaning, pro- 
cccfled from some ileep conceit of a \n-r- 
plexed miiid and a sorrowful heart, lor 
some matti-r that touched him near (as it 
seemed), I could not denv him so reason- 
able a request, but granted him leave to 
depart, \\\i\\ this testimony, that I havs 
found him readv tf» come to me at all 
times, when 1 had occa'^iou to use his 
assistance for her majesty's service, and 
very willing to set forward any thing 
that might either concern the i)ublic be- 
nefit or quiet of the rouutrv, or her ma- 
jesty's honour or profit ; besides, a man 
well given, and zealous in religion, dili- 
gent in preaching, and no niggard in hos- 
pitality, but a LM-eat reliever of his poor 
neiglibours, and by his good behaviour 
and dealing gained both love and credit 
amongst ,tliose with whom he hath been 
conversant; and carried himself in that 
reputation in the world, as I have not 
known him at any time either detected or 
suspected of any notorious or public 
crime. And thus much I thought good 
to declare to your lonlships of him, and 
that I have not had cause at any time to 
think otherwise of him, but as of a sound 
counsellor to the queen, and good mi- 
nister to this country and commonwealth. 
And even so, beseeching your lordships' 
favourable acceptation of him, and in his 
petitions (if he have any) to stand his 
good lords, I humbly take my leave. 
From the Xewry, the 12th of February, 
\51<'>. Your good lordships' assured 
loving friend to conunand, 


Sir Henri/ Sidnei/ to his son Robert Sidnf/, 
aftcnvards Earl of Leicester. 

"vroLR several letters of the 17th of 
^ September and 9th of November I 
have received ; but that sent by Carolus 
Clusius I have not yet heard of. Your 
letters are most heartilv welcome to me ; 
but the universal testimony that is made 
of you, of the virtuous course you hold 
in this your juvenile age, and how much 
you profit ill the same, and \ excel- 
lent parts God hath already planted ia 
you, doth so rejoice me, that the sight 
of no earthly thing is more, or can be 
more, to my comfort, than hearing in 
this sort from, and of you. Our Lord 




Book 11 

bless you, ray sweet boy. Pcrge, perze, 
my Robin, in the filial tear of God, and 
ill the meanest imagination of yourself, 
and to the loving direction of vour most 
lovinsf brother. 

I likeverywellofyour being at l*i-a£fue 
and of your intention to t;o to Vienna. 
I wi<li you should curiouslv look upon 
the fortification of that; and considerin'4 
the state of Christendom, I cannot tell 
how to design your travel into Italy. I 
would not have you to go specially, for 
that there is perpetual war between the 
pope and us. I think the princes and 
potentates of that region are confederated 
with him ; and for some other respects, I 
would not have you go thither. Yet 
from Spain we are as it were under an 
inhibition; France in endless troubles; 
the Low Country in irrecoverable misery. 
So I leave it to your brother and your- 
self, whether Vienna being seen, you 
will return into England, or spend the 
next s'Jintner in those parts; which if you 
do, I think best (you being satisfied with 
Vienna) you see the principal cities of 
^loravia and Silesia, and so to Cracow ; 
and ifyou can have any commodity, to see 
the court of the king of that realm : and 
from thence through Saxony, to Hoist, and 
Pomerland, seeing the princes courts by 
the way ; and then into Denmark and 
Sweden, and see those kings courts. 
Acquaint you somewhat with the estate 
of the free States; and so at Hamburgh 
to embark, and to winter with me. But 
Avh;it do 1 blunder at these things r follow 
the direction of yourmost loving brother, 
who in loving you is comparable with 
me, or exceedeth me. Imitate his vir- 
tues, exercises, studies, and actions; he 
is a rare ornament of this age, the very 
formular that all well-disposed young 
gentli'men of onrcourt do form also their 
manners and life by. In truth I speak it 
without flattery of him, or of myself, he 
hath the most rare virtues that ever I 
found in any man. I saw him not these 
six month>, little to my comfort. You 
may hear from him with more ease than 
from me. In your travels these docu- 
ments I will give you, not as mine but 
his practices. Seek the knowledge of 
the estate ot every prince, court, and city, 
that you pass through. Address your- 
self to the company, to learn this of 
the elder sort, and yet neglect not the 

J^oungej-. By the one you shall gather 
earning, wisdom, and knowledge, by the 

other acquaintance, languages, and exer- 
cise. This he efteitually observed with 
crreat gain of understanding. Once again 
I say imitate him. 1 hear you are fallen 
into concert and fellowship with Sir Harry 
Nevell's son and heir, and one Mr. Sav«ll. 
I hear of singular virtues of them both. 
I am glad of your faniiliaritv with them. 

The 21st of this present I received your 
letter of the 12th of the same, and with it 
a letter from Mr. Languet, who seemeth 
as yet tomislike nothing in yon ; for which 
I like you a great deal the better; and 1 
hope I shall hear furtiier of your com- 
mendation from him, which will be to 
my comfort. I find by Harry White 
that all your money is gone, which with 
some wonder displeaseth me; and ifyou 
cannot frame your charges according to 
that proportion I have appointed you, 1 
must and will send for you home. I have 
sent order to IVIr. Languet for one hun- 
dred pounds for you, which is twenty 
pounds more than I promised you; and 
this I look and order that it shall serve 
yoi4 till the last of IMarrh 1580. Assure 
yourself I will not enlarge one groat, 
therefore look well to your charges. 

I hope by that time you shall receive 
this letter you will be at or near Stras- 
biirgh, from which resolve not to depart 
till the middle ofApril come twelvemonth; 
nor then I will not that you do, unless 
you so apply your stvdy, as by that time 
you do conceive feelingly rhetoric and io- 
gic.and have the tonguesof Latin, French, 
and Dutch ; which I know you may 
have, ifyou will apply your will and wit 
to it. I am sure you cannot but find what 
lack in learning you have by your often 
departing from Oxford ; and the like, and 
greater loss shall you find, ifyou resolve 
not to remain continually for the time 
appointed in Strasburgh. Write to me 
monthly, and of your charges particular- 
ly ; and either in Lsttin or French. 1 
take in good part that you have kept 
promise with me; and on my blessing I 
charge you to write truly to me from time 
to time, whether you keep it or no; and 
ifyou breidv it in some dark manner, 

T'ray daily; speak nothing but truly. 
\j^ no dishonest thing for any respect. 
Love Mr. Languet with reverence, unta 
whom in most hearty manner commend 
me; and to Doctor Lubetius, and Mr. 
Doctor Sturm ius. I'arewel. If you will 
follow my counsel you shall be my sweet 


Sect. I. 


boy. From Bayivard's Ca«;tle in Lon- 
^lot), this 'i5tli oi' March 1.57S. Your 
IovIhj,' tiither. 

I. i: T T i: R XV. 

Sir P/illip SijH(j/' to his father Sir Hairy 

Right hoiiouriiblc mv singular good 
lord and father, 
QO strani^ely and diversely goes the 
•^ course of tlie\v()r!d by the intercliang- 
iiig humours of those tliat govern it, that 
thougli it be luoit noble to have ahvays 
one iniud and one constancy, yet can it 
not be always directed to one point : but 
must needs sonictiuies alter his course, 
according as the force of other changes 
drives it. As now in your lordship's 
case, to whom of late I wrote, wishing 
your lordshij) to return as soon as con- 
veniently you might, encouraged there- 
unto by the assurance the best sort had 
given me, with what honourable consi- 
derations your return should befal, par- 
ticularly to your lot : it makes me change 
my style, and write to your lordship, that 
keeping still jrour mind in one state of 
virtuous quietness, you will yet frame 
your course according to them. And as 
thej' ilelay your honourable rewarding, 
so you by good means do delay yoiu- re- 
turn, till either that ensue, or fitter time 
be for this. 

ilor majesty's letters prescribed j-ou a 
certain day, 1 think ; the day w^as past 
before Pagnam came unto you, and en- 
joined to do some things, the doing 
whereof must necessarily require some 
longer time. Hereupon your lordsiiip 
is to write back, not as thougli you de- 
sired to tarr}', but only shewing thai un- 
willingly you must employ some days 
thereai)cuts ; and if it please you to add, 
that the chancellor's presence shall be 
requisite ; for by him your lordship shall 
t'itlier have honourable revocation, or 
commandment of further stay at least 
till Michaelmas, which in itself shall be a 
fitter time; considering that then your 
term comes fully out, so that tlien your 
enemies cannot glory it is their procuring. 
In the mean time-, your friends may la- 
bour here to bring to a better pass such 
your reasonable and honourable desires, 
which tim<i can better bring forth than 
jpeed. Among which friends, before 
^iod thiere b iioae proceeds either so 


thoroughly or so wisely as my lady my 
nidther. For mine own part I have 
had only light from her. Now rests it 
in your lordship to weigh the paiticnla- 
rities of your own estate, which no maa 
can knov/ so well as yourself; and ac- 
cordingly to resolve. I'or mine own part 
(of \vhich mind your best friends are 
here) this is your best way. /\t least 
whatsoever y< u resolve, I beseech you 
with all speed I may undii stand, and that 
if it please you with your own hand ; for 
truly, sir, I must needs impute it to some 
great dishonesty of some about yon, that 
there is little written from you, or to 
you, that is not perlcctly known fo your 
professed enemies. And thus much I am 
vtry willing they should know, thatldo 
write it unto you : and in that quarter you 
may, as I think, look precisely to the 
saving of some of those overplussages, or 
at least not to go any further; and then 
the more time passes, the better it will 
be blown over. Of mv being sent to the 
queen, being armed with good accounts, 
and perfect reasons for ihcm, &c, 
25tli April ijTiJ. 


Sir Philip Siclnci/ to Ediiard Wulerhouse, 
Esq. Secretary of Ireland. 


My good Ned, 

nivER since you went, that ever you 
wrote to me, and yet I have not failed 
to do some friendly otfices for you here. 
How know I that? say you. I cannot 
tell. But I know that no letters I have 
received from you. Thus doth unkind- 
uess make me fall to a point of kindnes?. 
Good Ned, either come or write. Let 
me either see thee, hear thee, or read 
thee. Your other friends that know more 
will write more fully. I, of myself, thus 
much. Always one, and in one case. 
Me solo exultans totus teres utqiie rotundas. 
Commend me to my lord president; to 
the noble sir Nicholas, whom 1 bear spe- 
cial goodwill to; t'^ my cousin Harry 
Harrington, whom i long to see in health; 
sir Nicholas Bagaol T Mr. Agarde's 
daughter; my cousin Spikman for your 
sake ; and whosoever is mayor of Dublia 
for my sake. And even at his house 
when you think good. I bid you fare- 
wel. from Court, this 'iSlh April 1578, 
Your very loving friend. 



IJouk 11- 


Sir Philip SUnri/ to Edn-ard Molineux, 
Esq. Secretary to his father as Lord 

IMr. ^lolineux, 

F-..\v words iire best. My letters to 
my father have come tu the eyes of 
some. Neither can I coiuleinu any but 
you for it. If it be so, vou have played 
ihe very knave with me ; anil so I will 
make you kuow if I have good proof of 
it. But that for so much as is past. For 
that is to come, I assure you before (Jod, 
that if ever I know you do so much as 
read any letter I write to my father, 
without his coumiandnunt, or my con- 
sent, I will thrust mv dagger into you. 
And trust to it, for I speak it in earnest. 
In the mean time farewel. From Court, 
this last day of May 1 j7S. 


Edward MoVuieux, Esq. to Philip Sidney, 
in ansiver to the abovesaid letter. 

T HAVE received a letter from you, 
^ A which, as it is the first, so the same is 
the sharpest that I ever received from 
any: and therefore it amazeth me the 
more to receive such a one from you, 
since I have (the world can be judcje) 
deserved better somewhere, howsoever it 
pleaseth you to condemn me now. But 
since it is (I protest to God) without 
cause, or yet just ground of suspicion you 
use me thus, I bear the injurv more pa- 
tiently for a time; and mine innocenc)', 
I hope, in the end shall try mine honesty; 
and then I trustyou w ill confess you have 
done me wrong. And since your plea- 
sure so is expressed, that I shall not 
henceforth read any of your letters; al- 
tljough I must confess I have heretofore 
taken both great delight and profit in 
reading some of them : yet upon so hard 
SI condition (as you seem to otler) I will 
not hereafter adventure so great a peril, 
but obey you herein. How beit, if it had 
pleased you, you might have commanded 
me in a far greater matter, with a far less 
penalty. From the Castle of Dublin, the 
1st of July 1578. Yours, when it shall 
please you better to conceive of me, 
humbly to command. 



Sir Jlenry Sidney to his son Sir Philip 


V the letters you sent me by Sack- 
ford, you have discovered unto me 
your intention to go over into the Low 
Countries, to accompany duke Cassi- 
mier, who hatli with so noble oilers and 
by so honourable means invited yon: 
which disposition of your virtuous mind, 
as I must needs much commend in you, 
so when I enter into llie consideration of 
mine own estate, and call to mind what 
practices, informations, and malicious 
accusations, are devised against me ; and 
what an assistance in the defence of those 
causes your presence would be unto me, 
reposing myself so much both upon your 
help and judgment, I strive betwixt ho- 
nour and necessity, what allowance I may 
best give of that motion for your going: 
howbeit, if you think not my matters of 
thatweightanddifliculty (as I hope they 
be not), but that tjiey may be well 
enough by niyselfjwithout your assistance 
or any other, be brought to an honoura- 
ble end, I will not be against your deter- 
mination. Yet would wish you, before 
your departure, that you come to me to 
the water-side * about the latter end of 
this month, to take your leave of me, 
and so from thence to depart towards 
your intended journey. You must now 
bear with me, that I write not this unto 
you with mine own hand, which I would 
have done, if the indisposition of my body 
had not been such as 1 could not. God 
prosper you in that you shall go about, 
and send you to win nmch credit and ho- 
nour. And I send you my daily blessing. 
Your very loving father. 

Ti»e lit of August 1.578. 

L E T T E R XX. 

Lady Mary Sidney to Edmund Molineui , 
T THOUGHT good to put you in re- 
-*- membrance to move my lord cham- 
berlain, in my lord's name, to have 
some other room than my chamber, for 
my lord to have his resort unto, as he 

* His house was at Baiuard's Castle, by th^ 
Wiitcr-sidu near St. Paul's. 

Sect. I. 



was wont to have : or else my lord will 
be greatly tioiil)l(!(l when he sliall have 
any matters of ilispatch : my lociginp, 
you see, beiny veiy little, and myself 
coutinuallvsick, and not able to bemucli 
out of niv bed. 1 or the nif;ht tini(! one 
roof, with (iod's grate, shall serve us; 
for the day time the (|ueen will look to 
have my chandler alvvays in a readiness 
for her mnjtstv's coining thither; and 
though mv' lord himself can be no im- 
jjedimcnt thereto bv his own [jresence, 
yet his lordship trusting to no place else 
t(» be provided for him, will be, as I said 
before, troubled forwantof a conviiiient 
place for the dispatch of such peo|)le as 
hiiall have occasion to come to him. 
Therefore I pray you, in my lord's own 
name, move mv lord of Sussex for a 
room for that purpose, and I will have 
it hanged and lined for him with stull" 
from hens. I wish you not to be unmind- 
ful hereof: and so for this time I leave 
you to the iVImighty. Krom ( hiswick, 
this 11th of October lj7H. Your very 
assured loving mistress and friend. 


Sir Henry Sidney to his son Robert Sidney, 
aftcr'xards Earl of Leicester. 

T HEAR well of you, and the company 
-'■ you keep, which is of great comfort to 
me. To be of noble parentage usually 
raises an emulation to follow their great 
examples. There can be no greater 
love than of long time iiath been, and yet 
is, between sir Harry Nevell and me ; 
and so will continue till our lives end. 
Love you thus we have done, and do. 
One thing I warn you of; arrogate no 
precedency neither of your countrymen 
nor of strangers ; but take your |>lice pro- 
miscuous, with others, according to your 
degree and birthright, with aliens, loi- 
low vour discreet and virtuous brother's 
rule, who with great discretion to his 
great commendation, won love, and could 
variously ply ceremony with ceremony. 
I hear you have the Dutch tongue sulfi- 
ciently, whereof I am glad. You may 
therefore save money and discharge your 
Dutchman ; and do it indeed, and send 
for I\Ir. White ; he is an honest young 
man, and is fairly honest, and good 
and sound to me and mv friends. I send 

vou now by Stephen .'JO/, which you call 
arrearages : term it as you will, it is all I 
owe you till Easter; and 20/. of that, as 
Griflin ATadox teileth me, is Marr\' 
While's. 1 will send you at or before 
Frankfort mart (30/. either to bring you 
home, or to find you abroad, as you and 
vour l)rother shall agree, for half a year 
ending at Michaelmas; so Harry \\ hitc 
neither hath nor shnll have cause to think 
that I am olFended with him ; for I can- 
not look for, nor almost wish to hear bet- 
ter of a man, than I hear of him ; and 
how I intend to deal with him, you may 
see bv the letter I send him. He shall 
have his 20/. yearly, and you your 100/. 
and so be as merry as you may. I thank 
vou, my dear boy, for the martern skins 
you write of. It is more than ever your 
elder brother sent me; and I will thank 
vou more if they come, for yet I hear not 
of them, nor ever saw Cassymyre's pic- 
ture. The messenger (of the picture 1 
mean) phiyed the knave with you and 
me ; and alter that sort you may write to 
him : but if your tokens come I will send 
you such a suit of apparel as shall beseem 
5'our father's son to wear in any court in 
Germany. Commend me to the doctor 
Simeon's father. I love the boy well. 
I have no more; but God bless you, my 
sweet child, in this world and for ever; 
as I in this world find myself happy by 
my children. From Ludlow Castle, this 
28th of October 1,578. Your very loving 


Lady 7ilary Sidney to Edmund Molineux, 

You have used the matter very well; 
but we must do moreyet for the good 
dear lord than let him thus be deab 
withal. Hampton Court I never yet knew 
so full, as there were not spare rooms in 
it, when it hath been thrice better filled 
than atthis present it is. But some would 
be sorry, perhaps, my lord should have 
so sure footing in the court. \\'ell, all 
mav be as well when the good God will. 
The whilst, I pray let us do what we may 
for our lord's ease and quiet. Where- 
unto, I think, if you go to my lord 
Howard, and in ray lord's name also 
move his lordship to shew his brother, 
my lord, as they call each other, to 
shew him a cast of his oflice. and that it 
K J ?haU 



Book II. 

shall not be known, and allege your ibr- 
mer causes, I think he will find out some 
place to serve that purpose; and also, 
if you go to Mr. Bo« yer, the gentleman 
usher, and tell him his mother requireth 
him, which is myself, to help my lord 
with some one room, but only for the dis- 
patch of the multitude of Irish and Welch 
people that follow him ; and that you 
\Aill give your word in my lord's behalf 
and mine, it shall not be accounted as a 
lodging, nor known of, I believe he will 
make what shift he can : you must assure 
him it is but for the day time for his bu- 
siness, as indeed it is for my brother's 
answer of my stay here for five or six 
days; he knows 1 have ventured far al- 
ready, with so long absence, and am ill 
thought on for it, so as that may not be. 
But ■v\ hen the worst is known, old lord 
Harry and his old Moll will do as well as 
they can in parting, like good friends, the 
small portion allotted our long services in 
court; which, as little as it is, seems 
something too much. And this being all 
I can sav to the matter. Farewel, Mr. 
Ned. In haste this ]Monda)', 157 S. Your 
assured loving mistress and friend. 

If all this will not serve prove Mr. 
Huggins, for I know my lord would not 
for no good be destitute in this time for 
some convenient place for his followers 
and friends to resort to him, which in 
this case I am in, is not possible to be in 
my chamber till after sun-set; when the 
dear good lord shall be as best becomes 
hina, lord of his own. 


Sir Henry Sidneji to Arthur Lord Grey, 
Lord Deputy of Ireland, how to proceed 
in his govenvnent of that kingdom. 

j DO remember, my very good lord, 
^ that I wrote unto you; I will bv Au- 
ditor Jenison write more at large, whose 
coming hither to me put me in remem- 
brance of the same. And now, mv lord, 
in satisfaction of your requests, and easing 
of my desirous mind of your happy suc- 
cess in that unhappy country; in the 
l^vingest manner that I can send unto 
your lordship these notes following, 
which, if I should lay down as principles 
of government to your lordship, I might 
well be likened to the puttock, that 
taught the falcon to fly ; or, if I should 

write unto you any instructions for mar- 
tial designs or actions, I might well be 
scorned with that scholar that offered to 
read to Hannibal, De Arte Militare. 

But now to begin, and that with God 
Almighty: as I know vou are religious, 
so I wish your lordship to frequent ser- 
mons and prayer in public places; it 
would comfort the few Protestants you 
have there, and abash the Papists, where- 
of you have many. 

Have special regard to the liealth of 
your body : br notjwithout a ])hysician of 
your own ; and he of this land's birth ; 
and as you have been alwaj's delighted 
in virtuous and noble exercises., so what 
business soever you have, use weekly some 
days, or rather daily some hours, to con- 
tinue the same : otherwise vou shall both 
dull your spirits and make your body 
unable to serve. 

Provide careful and bold officers for 
your household, and put on a determina- 
tion to live within the compass of vour 
allowance; wlierein 1 wish you to rnake 
a pattern of other men, rather than of 
me; who by spending there (and yet in 
troth not prodigally) am forced to spoil 
my patrimony here ; with what reward 
or thank I know your lordship cannot be 
ignorant: and let one of the principal 
officers of your household liave a care for 
the collection of your cess for the same : 
and now tit into verbo dicam, never agree 
without cess, for if you take monev, it 
will be made a great matter here, and 
yet not serve your turn there. Trust me, 
my lord, this one particular was the 
thing that chiefly broke my back, which 
1 only released, to bring the people more 
willing to advance the revenue of the 
crown; and so I did, as hereafter your 
lordship shall perceive in this letter : this 
officer I termed ray clerk comptroller ; 
and albeit I had both treasurer and comp- 
troller, his precedents in rank, yet had 
I never a one that I trusted better: if 
your lordship, or your officers, have 
need of any formular of my household 
held there, if you write unto me for it, I 
will send it you, so soon as I can get it; 
for here I have none for that country: 
be sure of a just and painful man to be gen- 
tleman of your horse, who shall have need 
to have a yeoman under him ; in these 
two officers resteth much, importing both 
honour and profit. There liveth yet an old 
man, Paul Creen by name, unto whom, 
by the way, I beseech vour lordship to 


Sect. I. 



be good lord: he can instruct, and I am 
hure will, for so have I writlt. ii to him, 
whosoever he be that your lordship will 
put in that ofTKC. 

Your being in actual wars, I need not 
to advise your lonlsliip to make noue 
withoutthetonsintofthe council : butl'or 
any chnrge that may be for the same wars 
laid u|jon the country, do it not without 
cal'ins^ them to it, and others of the no- 
bility, as hath been accustomed: for al- 
though vou have not all to consent with 
you, yet 1 doubt not but you shall have 
so strong a party as always shall be suffi- 
cient for your discharge: one great mat- 
ter you shall have to deal in at the coun- 
cil board, which is the cess for the army 
and your household: and, my lord, as 
this advised, compound not forany money 
thev will oiler you. I tlid, and, as I wrote 
before, undid myself by the same: for 
upon their grievous complaints, affirming 
that some one plough land was charged 
with twelve pounds, and 1 think might 
prove they were charged with eight, I 
compounded with them for five marks 
sterling; which five marks sterling upon 
every plough land amounted to two 
thousand and four hundred pounds ster- 
ling for one year, and the same received 
within one hundred pounds, little more 
or less, by the above-named clerk comp- 
troller: and the same might have been 
fixed to the crown imperial for ever, if 
it had been well stood to here: the li- 
mits and counties charged to this I think 
will appear in the council book: if not, 
I know none so able to inform you as the 
secretary Chalinor; my opinion is, your 
lordshi[) should be resolute in this, that 
you cess them according to the state of 
your household and number of your gar- 
rison : the man last named I ever fountl 
painful, skilful, and faithful, and pray 
your lordship to be good lord to him, 
and let him know that I forget him not. 
My dear lord, in consultation of this 
matter, and of all other matters that 
must be treated of at council board, sup- 
press passion ; you shall be tempted in 
sv.mmo trrude. 1 had forgotten one late 
thing, and yet material, and that is, the 
choi( e of ces>;ers for the garrison, and 
raters for vour household; for albeit I 
found some more honester than other, 
yet amongst' them all, never a perfect 
honest man. 

For the wars now in action, I wote 
not what to write, for that not long ago 

my lord of Leicester writ unto me of 
your lordship's safe arrival there, of the 
death of sir James of Desmond, and of 
the overthrow of sir John his brother, 
and how every thing went well there; 
but si nee I have heard ofa shrewd conflict 
in (ioulranell, and divers principal men 
slain in the same, and that the Desmonds 
are of such force as they be able to keep 
two armies; and to whether of these 
factions I should advise your lordship to 
address yourself, considering the near- 
ness of the one to Dublin, the opinion 
and possibility of the landing of foreign 
force to the aid of the other, towards 
which if this year you do advance, leave 
a strong guard upon the pale behind you ; 
for a cottage burnt there will be made 
more here than a town burn in Munstcr. 
If vou will this year go about the extirp- 
ing of these cannibals of Goulranell, 
and their neighl)ours, or when you will, 
if your lordship let me know it, I think 
I will hiy you down a better plot than 
ever any yet of your predecessors for 
these two hundred years ever followed: 
and let it not trouble you, that your 
people took some blow there, for I do not 
remember that ever any attempt was 
made there, nor yet ever heard by my 
elders, but that we had more loss than 
gain: those vermin have lived there of- 
fensively to Englishmen and Irish govern- 
ment, above four hundred years: and 
vet I think it very possible and very fea- 
sible to subdue or expulse them; and 
doubtless an acre won there is more ho- 
nourable and profitable for thestate, than 
a mile in any other remote place. Onc« 
again, my lord, if you go into Munster, 
leiive a stronger guard upon the pale, and 
spare not to burthen them of the country 
to do it; it is for themselves; and what 
mass of treasure this crown exhausteth, 
besides that they yearly do, they cannot 
be ignorant of; I wish your lordship 
should in person be in either action. 

If you go into Munster, I cannot per- 
ceive that there is any manner of pro- 
ceeding yet but martially; this I had for- 
gotten, that you leave all of that country 
birth behind you, that are meant to make 
any defence, and trust to your soldiers. 
Some counsellors of the country you shall 
need to have with you; the potentates 
of that province trust not till you have 
tried them, yet haply you must use them, 
but let them come imbrued before you 
greatly allow theni. 

K 3 And 


E L E (J A N T E P 1 S T E E S. 

JJook I!. 

And since it is martially that you must 
and judgment, I cease to treat any more 
of that, lest, a«I writ in the beginning of 
my letter, I might pour more lolly out 
of myspjf, than put wisdom into you; 
only this, that you spare for no cost to 
pel spies; knaves will be bought tor mo- 
ney, a!id lor helping of you to such, 1 
know none so apt men as Thomas Mas- 
tendon, Robert Pipno, and Hubert Ilar- 
pole, all which I found honest, servic*'- 
able, and faithful ; all w liich I do recom- 
mend unto your good lordship's favour. 
Methinks it is now out of season lo 
make any treatise or discourse of a gene- 
ral reformation, for that were like as if a 
man, seeing his house on fire, would sot 
down and draw a plot for a new, before 
he would put his helping hand to (|ucnch 
the old. Neither yet do I know what 
course 3'ou shall be directed, or of vour- 
.self are inclined to hold; for if your 
course be eitherbydirection or inclination 
to temporise, then must you proceed in 
ditJisrent manner, from that course which 
you must hold if you aspire to a perfect 
reformation of that accursed country. 
Here will come in question whether pro- 
vincial councils and forces be to be main- 
tained, or not; and as these courses be 
dillierent, so must you use difterence of 
action, counsellors, and ministers; and 
herein, whensoever you will make me 
privy, you shall have the best advice that 
I shall be able to give you ; protesting 
that if Philip Sidney were in your place, 
u ho most earnestly and often hath spoken 
and written to do this loving office, he I 
say should have no more of me, than I 
most willingly will write to you from 
time to time. But it will be best that 
you oppose me by questions; I will an- 
swer them as well as I can. 

And now, my good lord and beloved 
companion, I will cease to write of any 
matter, and to treat a little of men : the 
most sufficient, most faithfid kind that 
ever I found there, were, the baron of 
Upper Ossery, Sir Lucas Dillon, and sir 
Nicholas Malbie ; these for principal men 
both for counsel and action, and wlio ever 
most diligently and faithfully discharged 
♦ hat which I committed to them, and 
truly they be men of great sufficiency. 
Make much of this bringer, for he may 
and I am sure will stand your lordship 
in stead; I have always found him a just 
^ound friend. If he be alive, there is an 

honest gentleman called Thomas le 
Strange, he was sometimes henchman to 
kings and at the last servant to me, 
and now to t!ie queen, planted there by 
me ; if it please you to call him to you at 
times and give him good countenance, 
l)<' will well inform you of that tract of 
the country where he dwelleth. I re- 
commend to your lordship also Eaunce- 
lot Alfordthe surveyor; all these I have 
found sound and fast friends to me. I 
had almost forgotten my nearest and 
deartrft l7icr.d and kinsman, and knight 
of mine own making, nephew and god- 
son, sir Henry Harrington : I beseech 
your lordship bestow on him vour fa- 
votirable and loving countenance; you 
sluiil find in him nobility of mind, and 
that he is not void of good counsel 
through experience. It is not for lack 
of love that I place not aright your 
marshal there, sir Nicholas Eagnall, 
whom I have ever found a faithful con- 
stant friend, and serviceable and most 
fast and assured to that family wherewith 
I am matched, and with which your 
lonlship is allied; his son, my god-son 
and knight, 1 recommend unto your 
lordship: 1 desire your lordship to give 
your good countenance to my old cousin 
James Wingfield, I trust he will deserve 
it ; and now last, though not least in lik- 
ing, the bishop of I\Ieath, whom I ever 
found a good counsellor for the state, a 
good countryman for the contmonwealth, 
a good housekeeper, and always my fast 
and sound friend: these that I have thus 
written of, I pray you let them know 
that I have not forgotten them to your 

I might write of many other, but I will 
write evil oi' none, yet evil have 1 found 
of liome whom \"ou must use, for haply 
(io{\ ordained them to be scourges for 
mv sins, and yet they may be good and 
fruitful instruments to further your ser- 
vices ; (w hich if you find) use them there- 
after, and like them never the less for 
any thing done to me; but if benefit 
Mould have bound, I should have found 
last whrre I found loose. 

As I find your lordship liketli this, I 
will supply you with more; and now de- 
sire vou to comn)end me to the newcomes 
of Ireland, viz. my cousin John Cheke, 
who, without challenge be it spoken, 
passed by Chester and saw me not, albeit ■ 
he tarried there days enough ; and to my 
good ally John Zouche, vhom f thank 


Sect. I. 



for coming to me to this town, and to 
my governor and dear friend Mr. Ed- 
ward Denny: unto all wliich I wish from 
my heart all good and Jiappincss. 

My lord, I had forgotten three kins- 
men of mine, sir Edward Moore, Owen 
Moore, and 'J'honias Moore: one of 
them was my man and now the queen's, 
the other mv lord of Warwick's and 
now a kiiigiit, the third mj' man still: I 
pray your lordship let them know that 
i furget tliem not; the best worthy of 
captains that I left behind mo was Ihim- 
phry Mackworth, he was a hov of my 
own breeding, I pray your lordship fa- 
vour him the rather for my sake. I 
know I shall have many other that in 
respect of me will desire grace at your 
hands, and according to the goodness of 
the cause I beseech j-ou to extend the 
same unto them: I \\ould that thev for 
whom I have written might know that I 
have not forgotten them, and that vou 
Avould keep this letter secret, lest others 
not named might take occasion to deem 
themselves of inc cotidemned. 

My lord, I did omit to write this let- 
ter myself, only for the shaking of my 
hand, which is such as with dilliculty I 
write mv own name, but also for that 
my letters written, are to anv reader, yea 
almost to myself, illegible: and so I pray 
you accept it,thoughsotdowi) by the pen 
of my man, yet delivered by the tongue 
of myself: finally I commend myself, 
my son Philip (who is not here), and the 
friendship and service of us both, to your 
good lordship, whom you shall find your 
fist and sound friends. 1 rom Denbigh, 
the 17th of .September laSO. Your 
lordship's ancient ally, loving compa- 
nion, and faithful friend. 


My lord, 
Thkrl is a debt due unto me by 
Oreilie, for the recovery whereof I 
have put Launcelot Alford in trust: but 
for that men of his sort, who are not 
commonly to be dealt withal by ordi- 
nary authority, become slow payers of 
their debts except they be very earnestly 
solicited, I pray your'lordship therefore 
(if need be) to assist Alford by your coun- 
tenance and commission, the' rather to 
quicken him to procure me payment. 
Aiy good lord, I had almost forgotten, 
b^v reason of the diversity of other mat- 

ter, to recommend unto you, amongst 
other of my friends, sir Henry Cowley, 
a knight of mine own making, who 
whilst he was youugand the abilitv and 
strength of his body served, was valiant, 
fortunate, and a good servant, having 
by my appointment the charge of the 
King's County, keep the country well or- 
dered and in good obedience: he is as 
good a borderer as ever I found any 
there. J left him at my roming hence 
a counsellor, and tried him for his expe- 
rience and judgment, very suffici«'nt for 
the room he was called unto: he was a 
sound and fast friend to me, and so I 
doubt not but your lordship shall find 
when you have occasion to employ him: 
and once inor<.', my lord, I prav you to 
be good to Thomas Masterson; he is one 
of the ancientest followers I had there, 
and one that hath been of longest ac- 
quaintance with me; you shall find him 
valiant, of great experience, and a very 
good borderer, and fit to be used when 
you shall have any occasion to try his 
service: finally, my lord, take this for 
my last precept, make not many ministers 
for the laying out of your monc}-, and to 
deal with your purser: what loss I sus- 
tained that way, no man can better in- 
form your lordship than this bearer, 
who knew my estate, and by what means 
and degrees 1 took the most harm. 

h E T T E R XXIV. 

Sir Pliilip Sidney to his brother Robert 
Si (fuel/, xvho xi: as the first Earl ofLeieester 
of that name. 

jNIy dear brother, 
■poK the money you have received, as- 
-*- sure yourself (for it is true) there is 
nothing 1 spend so ])leaseth me, as that 
which is for you. If ever I have ability 
you will find it; if not, yet sliall not any 
brother living be better beloved than 
you of me. 1 cannot write now to, N. 
White, do you excuse me. lor his ne- 
phew, they arLvbut passions in my father, 
which we must bear with reverence; but 
I am sorrv he should return till he had 
the circuit of his travel, for vou shall 
never have such a servant as he would 
prove; use your own discretion therein. 
For your countenance I would for no 
cause have it diminished in (lermanv; 
in Italy your greatest expence must be 
upon worthy men, and not upon house- 
K 4. holdinji.. 



Book II. 

holding. Look to your diet (sweet Ro- 
bin), and hold up your lie:\rt iu courage 
and virtue; trulv great part of niv com- 
fort i* in vou. I know not nivself what 
I meant bv brnvery in you, so grcativ 
you UKivscf I tondomn you ; be careful 
of voursclf, and I shall never iiave cares. 
I have wiiiten to Mr. Save!!, I wish you 
kep* still together, he is an excellent 
man ; and there mav if you list pass good 
exercises betwixt ycu and Mr. Nevell, 
there is great txpectation of you both. 
For the nielho:! v.i writing histnrv, Bodcn 
hath written at large ; vou mi:iv read him 
and gather out of many words some mat- 
ter. This I think in haste, a story is 
either to be cnusidi-red as a story, or as a 
treatise, -whicii, besides that, addcth 
inany things for profit and ornament; 
as a story, he is nothing but a narration 
of things done, with liie beginnings, 
causes, and appendeiicies thereof: in 
that kind your method must be to have 
seriem tcniporuin verv exactly, which the 
chronologies of Melanc'lion, Tarchag- 
nora, Laiiguet, and such other, will help 
you to. Then to consider by that 

as you 
not yourself, Xenophon to follow Thuci- 
dides, so doth Thucidides follow Hero- 
dotus, and Diodorus Siculus follow Xeno- 
phon: so generally do the Roman sto- 
ries follow the (jreek, and the particular 
stories of present monarchies follow the 
Koman. In that kind you have princi- 
pally to note the ex.uTiples of virtue or 
yice, with their good or evil successes; 
the establishmentsor ruinsof great estates, 
with the causes, the time, and circuin- 
stances of the laws then writ of; the 
caterings and endingsof war, and therein 
the stratagems against the eiicmv, and 
the discipline upon the soldier; and thus 
rhuch as a very historiographer. Besides 
this, the historian makes himself a dis- 
pourser for profit, and an orator, yea a 
poet sometimes for ornament. An ora- 
tor, in making excellent orations, e re na- 
ta, which are to be niarked, but marked 
with the note of rhetorical renicmbrances: 
a poet, in painting forth the eirects, the 
motions, the whisperings of the people, 
whiclj though in dijpulatiun one might 
say wej-e true, yet who will mark them 
well, shall find thcin taste of a poetical 
vein, and in that kind are gallantly to be 
piarked, for though perchance they were 
not !>D, yet it is enough they might be 
so. The last point which ten«ls to teach 

profit, is of a discourscr, which name I 
give to whosoever speaks, iwn simpliciter 
ih'/uctOfSed detjaalitfitihusctcimimstantii^ 
facti; and that is ii which makes me, and 
many others, rather note much with our 
pen than with onrmind, hocausc we leave 
all these discourses to the confused trust 
of our memory, because they being not 
tied to the tenor of a question, as philo- 
sophers use someiimes places; the di- 
vine, in telling his opinion and reasons in 
religion ; sometimes the lawyer, in shew- 
ing the causes and benefits of law; some- 
times a natural philosopher, in setting 
down the causes of any strange thing, 
which the story binds him to speak of; 
but most commonly a moral philosopher, 
cither in the ethic part, when ho sets 
forth virtue:, or vices, and the natures of 
passions, or in the politic, when he doth 
(as often he doth) meddle scntentiously 
with matters of estate. Again, some- 
times he gives precepts of war, both of- 
fensive and defensive; and so lastly, not 
professing any art, as his matter leads 
him he deals with all arts, which be- 
cause it carrleth the life of a lively ex- 
ample, it is wonderful what light it gives 
to the arts themselves, so as the great 
civilians help themselves with the dis- 
courses of the historians; so do soldiers, 
and even philosophers, and astronomers: 
but that I wish herein, in this, that when 
you read any such thing, you straight 
bring it to his head, not only of what 
art, but, by your logical subdivisions, to 
the next member and parcel of the art. 
And so as in a table, be it witty words, 
of which Tacitus is full; sentences of 
which Livy, or similitudes whereof Plu- 
tarch; straight to lay it up in the right 
place of his storehouse, as either military, 
or more specially defensive military, or j, 
more particularly defensive by fortifica- Wt 
tion, and so lay it up. So likewise in " 
politic matters, and such a little tabic 
you may easily make wherewith I would 
have you ever join the historical part, 
which is only the example of some strata- 
gem, or good counsel, or such like. This 
write i to you in great haste, of method 
\Aithout method, but with more leisure 
arid study (if i do not find some book 
that satisfies) I will ventureto write inuie 
largel}' of it unto you. Mr. Savell will 
with ease help you to set down such a 
table of remembrance to yourself, and 
for your sake I perceive he will do much, 
and if ever I be able I will deserve it of 

Sect. I. 


him; on fj only thing, as it coines unto 
my inin 1, Il-c me remember you of, that 
you consider wherein the historian ex- 
celletli, and that to note, as Dion Ni- 
cceus, in the searching the secrets of go- 
vernment; Tacitus, in the pithv open- 
ing the venom of wickedness, and so of 
the rest. My time, exceedingly short, 
will snU'cr me to write no more leisurely ; 
Stephen can lell von, who stani's w ith me 
\vliile I am \\ riling. Now (dear bro- 
ther) take delight likewise in the mathe- 
niaticals, Mr. Savell is excellent in them. 
I think vf'U understand thesplu re ; if you 
do, I care little for any more astronomv 
in you. Arithmetic, and geometry, I 
would wish you well seen in, so as both 
in matter of number and measure you 
might have a feeling and active judg- 
ment; I would you did bear the mecha- 
nical instruments, w herein th' 7>iitch ex- 
cel. I write this to vou as <n.e, that for 
myself have given over the delight in the 
world, but wish to you as much, if not 
more, than to myself. So you can speak 
and write Latin, not barbarously, I never 
require great, study in Ciceronianism, the 
chief abuse of Oxford, (jui diim verba sec- 
tanttir, res ipsas iic^Hgunt. My toyful 
books I will send, with God's help, by 
Pebruary, at which time you shall have 
your money: and for 200l. a year, as- 
sure yourself, if the estates of England 
remain, you shall not fail of it, use it to 
your best profit. My lord of Leicester 
sends you 4-()l. as I understand by Ste- 
phen, and promiscth he will continue 
that stipend j-early at the least, then that 
is above commons; in any case write 
largely and diligently unto him, for in 
truth I have good proof, that he means 
to be every way good unto you; the odd 
301. shall come with the lOOl. or else my 
father and 1 will jarle. Now, sweet bro- 
ther, take a delight to keep and increase 
your music, you will not believe what a 
want 1 find of it in my melancholy times. 
Atiiorsemanship, when you exercise it, 
read Crisou Claudia, and a book that is 
called La Gloria de 1' Cavallo, withal, 
that you may join the thorough contem- 
plation of it with the exercise; and so shall 
you profit more in a month, than others 
Jn a year, and mark the bitting, saddling, 
and curing of horses. I would by the 
way your worship would learn a better 
band, you write worse than I, and I write 
evil enough. Once again have a care of 
your diet, and consequently gfyour com- 


plexion ; remember gratior est veniens in 
pitlchro corpore virtus. Now, sir, for 
news, I refer myself to this bearer, lie 
can tell you how idle we look on our 
neighbours' fires, and nothing is happen- 
ed notable at home, save on 1}' Drake's re- 
turn, of which yet 1 know not the secret 
j)oints; but about the world he hath 
been, and rich he is returned. Portugal 
we say is lost; and to conclude, my eves 
are almost closed up, overwatched with 
tedious business. (j'(h1 bless yon, sweet 
boy, and accomplish the joyful hope 1 
conceived of vou. Once again commend 
me to Mr. Nevell, Mr. Savell, and honest 
Harry White, and bid him be nierry. 
When vou play at weapons, I would have 
you get thick caps and hrasers, and play 
oulyour play lustily, for indeed ticks and 
dalliances are nothing in earnest, for the 
time of the one and the other greatly 
dill'ers, and use the blow as well as the 
thrust; it is good in itself, and beside* 
exerciseth your breath and strength, and 
will make yon a strong tnan at the tour- 
ney and barriers. lirst in any cas» 
practise the single sword, and then with 
the dagger; let no day pass without aa 
hour or two such exercise ; the rest stu- 
dv, or confer diligently, and so shall you 
come home to my comfort and credit. 
Lord how Ihavebabbled, onceagain fare- 
wel, dearest brother. Your most loving 
and careful brother. 

At Leicester-house, this IStb of Octg- 
ber 1580. 


Sir Philip Sidney to 2ueen Elizabeth, anno 
15SQ, persuadini^ her not to niarry Viith 
the Duke of Anjou. 

Most feared and beloved, most sweet 
and gracious Sovereign, 
rpo seek out excuses of this ray bold 
-■- ness, and to arm the acknowledging 
ofa fault with reasons for it, might bet- 
ter shew 1 knew I did amiss, than any^ 
way diminish the attempt, especially in 
your judgment; who being able to dis- 
cern lively into the nature of the thing 
done, it were folly to hope, bv laying on 
better colours, to niiike it more accept- 
able. Therefore carrying no other olive- 
branch of intercession, than the laying 
of myself at your feet, nor no other in- 
sinuation, either for attention or pardon, 
but the true vowed sacrifice of unfeigned 




Book IL 

love; I will in simple and direct terms 
(as hoping they shall only come to your 
merciful eves) set down the overflowing 
rf mv mind in this most important mat- 
ter, importing, as I think, the continu- 
ance of your safety ; and, as I know, the 
jf^ys of my life. And becaii-e mv words 
(I confess shallow, but coming from the 
deep ^ell-spring of most loyai afVection) 
have delivered to your most gracious ear, 
what is the grnend sum of my travailing 
thoughts therein; 1 will now hut nnl}' 
declare, wliat be the reasons that make 
me think that the mtirriage with r'.Ion- 
•ieurw ill he unprofit.'ible unto you ; then 
■will 1 answer the objection of those fears, 
which might procure so violent a re- 

The good or evil tliat will come by it, 
must be considered, either according to 
your estate or person. To your estate, 
what can be added to the being an ab- 
solute born, and accordingly respected 
princess? But, as they say the Irishmen 
are ivont to call over them that die, They 
are rich, they are fair, v.hat needed they 
to die so cruelly? not unfitly of you, en- 
dowed with felicity above all others^ a 
man might well ask. What makes you in 
.such a calm to change course; to so 
healthful a bodj', to apply so unsavoury 
a medicine ? w hat can recompence so he- 
zardous an adventure? indeed, were it 
but the altering of a well maintained, 
add well approved trade: for, as in bo- 
dies natural, every sudden change is full 
of peril; so in this body politic, wiicreof 
you are the only head, it is so much the 
more dangerous, as there are more hu- 
mours to receive a hurtful impression. 
But hazards are then most to be regard- 
ed, when the nature of the patient islitly 
composed to occasion them. 

The patient I account your realm; 
the agent Monsieur, and his design; for 
neither outward accidents do mu( h pre- 
vail against a true inward strength ; nor 
doth inward weakness lightly subvert it- 
self, witiiout being thrust at by some 
outward force. 

Your inward force (for as for your trea- 
sures indeed, the sinews of your crown, 
3'our majesty doth best and only know) 
consisteth in your subjects, generally un- 
expert in warlike defence ; aiul as they are 
divided now into mightyfartions(and fac- 
tions bound in the never-dying knot of 
rtligion). Theoneofthem, towhom your 
happy government hath granted the free 

exerciseof the external truth; with this, 
by the continuance of time, by the mul- 
titude of them; by the principal offices, 
and strength they hold; and lastly, by 
your dealings both at home and abroad 
against the adverse party ; your state is ', 
so entrapped, as it were impossible for 
yon, V, ithout excessive trouble, to pull 
yoursidf out of the party so long main- 
tained, lor such a course once taken 
in hand, is not much unlike a ship in 1 
tempest, which how dangerously soever ^ 
it may be beaten with waver, yet is 
there no safety or succour without it: 
these, therrforr, as their souls live by 
your happy government, so are they 
j'our chief, if not your sole strength: 
these, howsoever the necessity of human 
life makes them lack, yet can they not 
look for better conditions than presently 
they enjoy: these, how their hearts will 
be galled, if not aliened, when they shall 
see j'ou take a husband, a Frenchman 
and a Papist, in whon) (howsoever 
fine wits may find further dealings or 
painted excuses) the very common peo- 
))le well know this, that he is the 
son of a Jezebel of our age: that his 
brother made oblation of his own sister's 
marriage, the easier to make massacres 
of our brethen in belief: that he him- 
self, contrary to his promise, and all 
gratefulness, having his liberty and prin- 
cipal estate by the flngonots means, did 
sack Lacharists, and utterly spoil them 
with fire and sword. This, I say, even 
at first sight, gives occasion to all, truly 
religious, to abhor such a master, and 
consequently to diminish much of the 
hopeful love they have long held to you. 
'J'he other faction, most rightly in- 
deed to be called a faction, is the }*a- 
pists; men, whose spirits are full of an- 
guish, .some being infested bj' others," 
whom they accounted damnable; .some 
having their ambition stopped, because 
they are not in the way of advancement ; m| 
.some in pri.son and disgrace; some whose ' w 
best friends are ban ishedpractisers; many 
thinking you are an usurper; many 
thinking also you had disanulled your 
right, because of the pope's exconmm- 
nication; all burthened with the weight 
of their conscience; men of great num- 
bers, of great riches (because the alliilrs 
of state have not lain on them), of united 
minds (as all men that deem themselves 
oppressed naturally are) ; with these. I 
would ^^illingly join all discontented per- 

Sect. I. 



sons, such as want and disgrace keep lo\v(!r 
tliau they have Sft their hearts; such as 
liave resolved what to iocjk lor at your 
Jiaiuls; such as C:esar said, ^uibus opus 
est hello civili, and arc of iiis luiiid, i/utio 
in acic, (ji/.tm in foio rndac. J'iiese he 
men so nuich the more to he douhted, 
because, as thev do i mhracc all estates, 
so are they coiiuuoiily of the bravest and 
wakefullest sort, and that know the ad- 
vanta^^re of tiie world most. This doidjie 
rank of |)eo)jle, how their minds have 
stood, the nortjiern reb( llion, and infi- 
nite other praetices, have well taught 
you; which, if it be said, it did not pre- 
vail, that is true indeed; for if they had 
prevailed, it were too late now to delibe- 
rate. Jiut, at this present, they want 
nothing so iinuh as a head, who, in ef- 
fect, needs not but to receive their in- 
structions; since thev may do mischief 
only with his countenance. Let the 
Singiniani in Henry the I'ourth's time, 
Perkin W'arbeck in your grandfather's; 
but of all, the most lively and propt r is 
that of Lewis the French king's son in 
Henry the Third's time; who having at 
all no shew of title, yet did he cause the 
nobility, and more, to swear direct fealty 
and vassalage; and they delivered the 
stroui^est holds unto him. 1 say, let these 
be sulhcient to prove, that occasion gives 
minds and scope to stranger things than 
ever would have been imagined. If then 
the ath-ctionate side have their aiRctions 
weakened, and the discontented have a 
gap to utter their discontent; I think it 
will seem an ill preparative for the patient 
(I mean your estate) to a great sickness. 
Now the agent party, v\ Inch is Mon- 
sieur : whether he be not apt to work on 
the disadvantage of your estate, he is to 
be judged by his will and power; his 
will to be as full of light ambition as is 
possible ; besides the French disposition, 
and his own education; his inconstant 
temper against his brother; his thrusting 
Jiimself into the Low Country matters; 
]iis sometimes seeking the king of Spain's 
tlaughter; sometimes your majesty ; are 
evident testimonies of his being carried 
away with every wind of hope; taught 
to love greatness any way gotten; and 
having for the motioners and ministers of 
the mind, only such young men, as have 
shewed they think evil contentment a 
ground of any rebellion, who have seen 
no connnonwealth but in faction; and 
iJivers of which liave defiled their hands 

in odious murders: with such fancies 
and favourit»s, what is to be hoped for? 
or that he will contain himself within the 
limits ofyom- conditions; since, in truth, 
it Avere strange that he that cannot he 
contented to be the second person in 
France, and heir apparent, shoidd be 
content to come to be a second person, 
where he should pretend no way to so- 
vereignty. His power, i imagine, is 
not to be desj)ised, since he is come into 
a country, where the way of evil doin"^ 
will be presented unto him; where there 
needs nothing but a head to draw toge- 
ther all tile ill-alUcted menibers: him- 
self a prince of great revenues, of the 
most popular nation in the world, fidl 
of soldiery, and .such as are used to serve 
without pay, so as they may have shew 
of spoil; and, without question, shall 
have his brother ready to help him, a« 
M-ell for (dd revi-nge, as to divert him 
from troid)ling France, and to deliver 
his own country from evil humours. 
Neither is king I'hilip's marriage here 
any example ; since then it was between 
two of one religion, so that only he in 
England stood only upon her strength, 
and had abroail king Henrv of France 
ready to impeach any enterprise he should 
make for his greatness that way. And 
yet what events time would have broujrht 
torth ot tnat marriage, vour most blessed 
reign hath made vain all such considera- 
tions. ]^ut tilings holding in present 
state, I think 1 may easily conclude, that 
your country as \\ell by long peace, and 
fruits of peace, as by the ])oison of divi- 
sion, wherewith the faithful shall by this 
means be woimded, and the contrarv 
enabled, made fit to receive hurt; and 
INIonsienr being every Avay likely to nse 
the occasions to hurt, there can almost 
happen no worldly thing of more immi- 
nent danger to your estate royal. And 
as to your person, in the scale of your 
happiness, what good there may come 
by it, to balance with the loss of so ho- 
nourable a constancy; trul^^, yet I per- 
ceive not. I will not shew so nmch ma- 
lice, as to object the universal doubt, the 
race's unfaithtulness; neither will I lay 
to his charge the ague-like manner of 
proceedings, sometimes hot, and some- 
times cold, in the time of pursuit; which 
always rightly is most fervent; and I 
will temper my speeches from any other 
unreverend disgracings of him in parti- 
cular (though they might be never so 




Book IL 

^rue); this only will I say, that if he do 
come hither, he must live here in far less 
reputation than his mind will well brook, 
having no other royalty to countenance 
himself with; or else you must deliver 
him the keys of your kingdom, and live 
at his discretion ; or, lastly, he must be 
separate himself' with more dishonour, 
and further disuniting of heart, than ever 
before. Often have I heard you, with 
protestation, say, no private pleasure, 
nor self-ailcction, could lead you to it ; 
but if it be both unprofitable for your 
kingdom, and unpleasant to you, cer- 
tainly it were a dear purchase of repent- 
ance ; nothing can it add unto you, but 
the bliss of children, which, I confess, 
were a most unspeakable comfort; but 
yet no more appertaining unto him, than 
to any other, to whom the height of all 
good haps were allotted to be your 
husband; and therefore I may assuredly 
affirm, that what good soever can follow 
marriage, is no more his than any bo- 
dy's; but the evils and dangers are pecu- 
liarly annexed to his person and condi- 
tion. For, as for the enriching of your 
country with treasure, which either he 
hath not, or hath otherwise bestowed it ; 
or the staying of your servants minds 
with new expectations and liberality, 
which is more dangerous than fruitful ; 
or the easing of your majesty of cares, 
which is as much as to say, as the easing 
of you to be queen and sovereign : I 
think every one perceives this way to be 
full of hurt, or void of help. Now resteth 
to consider, what be the motives of this 
sudden change, as I have heard you in 
most sweet words deliver; fear of stand- 
ing alone, in respect of foreign dealings ; 
and in them, from whom you shall have 
respect, doubt of contempt. Truly, 
standing alone, with good foresight of 
•government, both in peace and warlike 
defence, is the honourablest thing that 
♦•ati b« to a well-established monarchy; 
fhose buddings being ever most strongly 
durable, which lean to none other, but re- 
main from their own foundation. 

So yet in the particulars of your estate 
at present, I will not altogether deny that 
a true Massinissa were fit to countermine 
the enterprise of mighty Carthage : but 
how this general truth can be applied to 
Monsieur, in truth I perceive not. The 
wisest, that have given best rules where 
surest leagues are made, have said, that 
it must be between such as either vehe- 

ment desire of a third thing, or as vehe- 
ment fear, doth knit their minds toge- 
ther. Desire is counted the weaker 
bond, but yet that bound so many princes 
to the Holy Land. It united that invin- 
cible king Henry V. and that good duke 
of Burgundy; the one desiring to win 
the crown of France from the Dauphin, 
the other desiring to revenge his father's 
murder upon the Dauphin ; which both 
tended to one. That coupled Lewis 
XIL and Ferdinando of Spain to the 
conquest of Naples. Of fear, there are 
innumerable examples: Monsieur's de- 
sires, and yours, how they shall meet in 
public matters, I think no oracle can tell; 
for as the geometricians say, that paral- 
lels, because they maintain diverse lines, 
can never join : so truly, two, having in 
the beginning contrary principles, to 
bring forth one doctrine, must be some 
miracle. He of the Romish religion ; 
and if he be a man, must needs have 
that manlike property, to desire that all 
men be of his mind: you the erector and 
defender of the contrary, and the only 
sun that dazzleth their eyes : he French, 
and desiring to make France great: your 
majesty English, and desiring nothing 
less than that France should not grow 
great: he, both by own fancy and his 
youthful governors, embracing all am- 
bitious hopes; having Alexander's image 
in his head, but, perhaps, evil painted: 
your majesty, Avith excellent virtue, 
taught what you should hope, and by no 
less wisdom, what you ma}' hope ; with a 
council renowned over all Christendom 
for their well-tempered minds, having 
set the utmost of their ambition in your 
favour, and the study of their souls in 
your safety. 

Fear hath as little shew of outward 
appearance, as reason, to match you to- 
gether ; for in this estate he is in, whom 
should he fear? his brother? alas; his 
brother is afraid since the kingof Navarre 
is to step into his place. Neither caa 
his brother be the safer by his fall, but 
he may be the greater by his brother's; 
whereto, whether you will be an accessa- 
ry, you are to determine. The king of 
Spain ceitainly cannot make war upon 
him, but it must be upon all the crown 
of France, which is no likelihood he will 
do : well may Monsieur (as he hath 
done) seek to enlarge the bounds of 
France upon this state; which likewise, 
whether it be safe for you to be a coun- 


SJect. I. 



tenance to, any other way, may be seen : 
to that if neither desire nor tear be siuh 
in him, as are to bind an^- public fast- 
ness, it may be said, that the onlv lor- 
tress of this your marriage, is of his pri- 
vate affection ; a thing too incident to 
the person laying it up in such knots. 

The other objection, of contempt in the 
subjects: I assure your majesty, if I had 
heard it proceed out of your mouth, 
which of all other I do most dearly reve- 
rence, it would as soon (considering the 
perfections of body and mind have set 
all mei/s eyes by the height of your 
estate) have come to the possibility of my 
imagination, if one should have told me 
on the contrary' side, that the greatest 
princess of the world should envy the 
state of some poor deformed pilgrim. 
What is there, either within you or with- 
out you, that can possibly fall into the 
danger of contempt, to whom fortunes 
are tied by so long descent of your royal 
ancestors? But our minds rejoice with 
the experience of your inward virtues, 
and our eves are deliijhted with the sight 
or you. But because your own eyes can- 
not see yourself, neither can there be in 
the world any example fit to blaze you 
by, I beseech you vouchsafe to weigh 
the grounds thereof. The natural causes 
are, length of government, and uncer- 
tainty of succession : the effects, as you 
term them, appear by cherishing some 
abominable speeches, which some hellish 
minds have uttered. The longer a prince 
jcigneth, it is certain the more he is 
esteemed; there is no man ever was weary 
of well-being. And good increased to 
good, maketh the same good both 
greater and stronger ; for it useth men 
to know no other cares, when either men 
are born in the time, and so never saw 
other; or have spent much of their flou- 
rishing time, and so have no joy to seek 
other; in evil princes, abuse growing 
vpon abuse, according to the nature of 
evil, with the increase of time, ruins it- 
self. But in so rare a government, where 
neighbours fires give us light to see our 
quietness, where nothing wants that true 
administration of justice brings forth ; 
certainly the length of time rather 
breeds a mind to think there is no other 
life but in it, than that there is any te- 
diousness in so fruitful a government. 
Examples of good princes do ever con- 
firm this, who the longer they lived, the 
deeper they sunk into their subjects hearts. 

Neither will I trouble you with exara- 
ph-s, bfiiig so manv and manifest. Look 
into your own e-.late, how willinglv they 
grant, and ho\v dutifully they pay s>icU 
subsidies, as vou demand of'thvni: ho\T 
they are no less troublesome to vour ma- 
jesty in certain requests, tlitn they were 
in thebeg'.nningof your reiga; and your 
majesty shall find you have a people more 
than ever devoted to you. 

As forthe uncertainty of succession, al- 
though for mine ow n part I have castthe 
utmost anchor of my hope; yet for Eng- 
land's sake I would not say any thing 
against such determination; but that un- 
certain good should bring a contempt to 
a certain good, I think it is beyond all 
reach of reason; nay because if there 
were no other cause (as there are infinite) 
common reason and profit \vould teach 
us to hold that jewel dear, the loss of 
which would bring us to we know not 
what; which likewise is to be said of your 
majesty's speech of the rising sun; a 
speech first used by Sylla to Pompey, in 
Rome, as then a popular city, where in- 
deed men were to rise and fall according 
to the flourish and breatli of a niany-head- 
ed confusion. But in so 1 ineal a monarchy, 
wherever the infants suck the love of 
their rightful prince, who would leave 
the beams of so fair a sun, for the dread- 
ful expectation of a divided company of 
stars? Virtue and justice are the only 
bonds of people's love ; and as for that 
point, many princes have lost their 
crowns, whose own children were mani- 
fest successors; and some that had their 
own children used as instruments of their 
ruin: not that I deny the bliss of chil- 
dren, but only to shew religion and equity 
to beofthemselvessufticient stays. Nei- 
ther is the love born in the queen your 
sister's days, any contradiction hereunto ; 
for she was the oppressor of that religion 
which lived in many men's hearts, and 
whereof you were known to be the fa- 
vourer ; by her loss was the most excel- 
lent prince in the world to succeed; by 
your loss, all blindness light upon hinx 
that sees not our misery. Lastly, and 
most properly for this purpose, she had 
made an odious marriage with a stranger 
(which is now in question whether your 
majesty shall do or no) ; so that if your 
subjects do at this time look for any afiei- 
chance, it is put as the pilot doth to the 
ship boat, if his ship should perish; 
driven by extremity of the one, but as 


E L E C; A NT E P I S T L i: S. 

Book IT 

long as he can uith his life, tending tlic 
other. And this I say, not only tor tlie 
lively parts that be in you; but even tor 
their own sakes, tor they must needs see 
what tempests threaten them. 

The last proof in this contempt should 
be, the venomous matter, certain men 
iniposthumed with wickedness should ut- 
ter against you. Certainly not to be evil 
spoken of, neither Christ's, nor 
Ciesar's might, could ever prevent or 
warrant; there being for that no other 
rule than so to do, as that they may not 
justly say evil of you; which whether 
your majesty have not done, I leave it 
in you, to the sinccreness of your own 
conscience, and wisdom of your judg- 
ment in the world, to your must manifest 
fruits and fame throughout Europe. Au- 
gustus was tohl, iliat men speak of him 
much hurt: it is no matter, said he, so 
long as they cannot do much hurt. And 
lastly Charles V. to one that told him, 
Lt's HoKandois puiient niul; nuihils pa- 
tient bien, answered he. 1 might make 
a scholar-like reckoning of many such 
examples; it suiliceth that these great 
princes knew well enough upon what 
way they flew, and cared little for the 
barking of a few curs: and truly in the 
behalf of your subjects, I durst with my 
blood answer it, that there was never 
monarch held in more precious reckon- 
ing of her people; and before God how 
can it be otherwise ? For mine own part, 
when I hear seme lost wretch hath de- 
filed such a name with his mouth, I con- 
.sider the right name of blasphemy, 
whose unbridled soul doth delight to de- 
prave that, which is accounted generally 
most high and holy. No, no, most ex- 
cellent lady, do not raze out the in\pres- 
sion you have made in such a multitude 
of hearts; and let not the scum of such 
vile minds bear any witness against your 
subjects devotions; which, to proceed 
one point further, if it were otherwise, 
could little be helped, but rather nou- 
rished, and in effect began by this. The 
only means of avoiding contempt, are 
love and fear; love, as you have by 
divers means sent into the depth of their 
souls; so if any thing can stain so true a 
form, it must be the trimming yourself, 
not in your own likeness, but in new co- 
lours unto them; their fear by him can- 
not be increased, without the appearance 
of French forces, the manifest death of 
y©ur estate; but well may it against liim 

bear that face, which (as the tragic 
Seneca saith) Metus in aut.'ioran redit, as 
because both in will and power he is like 
enough tn do harm. Since then it i:> 
dangerous for your state, as well because 
by inward weakness (principally caused 
by division) it is fit to receive harm; 
since to your person it can be no way 
comfortable, you not desiring marriage; 
and neither to person or estate is he to 
bring any more good than any body; but 
more evil he may, since, the causes that 
should drive you to this, are either fears 
of that which cannot happen, or by this 
moans cannot be prevented: I do with 
most humble heart say unto your majesty 
(having assayed this diingerous help) for 
your standing alone, yon must take it for 
a singular honour God hath done you, to 
be indeed the only protector of his 
church ; and yet in worldly respects your 
kingdom very suiVicient so to do, if you 
make that religion, upon which you stand, 
to carry the only strength, ami have a- 
broad those that still maintain the same 
course; who as long as they may be kept 
from utter falling, your majesty is sure 
enough from your mightiest enemies. 
As for this man, as long as he is but 
Monsieur in might, and a Papist in pro- 
fession, he neither can, nor will, greatly 
shield you; and if he get once to be king, 
his defence will be like Ajax's shield, 
which rather weighed them down, than 
defended those that bare it. Against 
contempt, if there be any, which I will 
never believe, let your excellent virtues 
of piety, justice, and liberc-xlity, daily, if 
it be possible, more and more shine. Let 
such particular actions be found out 
(which be easy as I think to be done) 
by which you may gratify all the hearts 
of your people : let those in whom you 
find trust, and to whom you have com- 
mitted trust, in your weighty alVairs, be 
held up in the eyes of your subjects; 
lastly, doing as you do, you shall be as 
you be, the example of princes, the or- 
nament of this age, and the most excel- 
lent fruit of your progenitors, and tha 
perfect mirror of your posterity. Your 
majesty's faithful, humble, and obedient 

Sect. I. 




Sir Pnilip Sidney to Edmund MoUncui, Esq. 


piiAY you, for my sake, you will not 
make yourself ail iiistiumeot to cross 
my cousin l'o\vke's[Ci'revil!e] title iuauy 
part, or construction of his letters patents. 
It will turn to otlier bodies {rood, and to 
hurt him willingly were a foolish dis- 
courtesy. I pray von, as vou niake ac- 
count of me, let me be sure you will deal 
herein according to my requ«>t, and so 
I leave you to Cod. At Baynard's Cas- 
tle, this lOtli of April IJoJ. Your lov- 
inir fricjid. 


From the same to the sar)ie. 

T PRAY thee write to me diligently. I 
*■ vvould vou came down yourself. Solicit 
my lord treasurer, and .Mr. vice cham- 
berlain for my being of the council. I 
would fain bring in my cousin Coningsby 
if it were possible ; you shall do me much 
pleasure to labour it. Earewel, even 
very well, for so I wish you. From 
Hereford, this 23d of July 1582. Your 
loving friend. 


Sir Philip Sidney to William Lord Bur- 


Right honourable, my singular good 

HAVE from my childhood been much 

bound to vour lordship, which as the 
means of my fortune keeps me from abi- 
lity to requite, so gives it me dailv cause 
to make the bond greater, by seeking and 
using your favour towards me. 

The queen, at my lord of Warwick's 
rc(jucst, hath been moved to join me in 
his office of ordnance; and, as I learn, 
her majesty yields gracious hearing unto 
it. My suit is, your lordship will fa- 
vour and further it ; which I truly affirm 
unto your lordship, I much more desire, 
for the being busied in a thing of some 
serviceable experience, than for any 
other commodity, which I think is but 
Email, that can arise of it. 

I conclude your lordship's trouble 
with this, that I have no reason to be 
thus bold with your lordship, but the 
presuming of your honourable goodwill 
towards iiu;, which I cannot deserve, but 
I can and will greatly esteem. 1 fnnn- 
blv take my leave, and pray for your 
long and pio->perous life. At Court, 
this 27th of January 1582. Your lord- 
ship's most humble at commandment. 

Sir Philip Sidney to Sir Edivard Stafford. 


THE cause of ray sending at this time 
this bearer, Mr. Burnham will tell 
you. Only let me salute you in the 
kindest manner that one near friend caa 
do another. 

I would gladly know how you and 
your noble lady do, and what you do in 
this absence of the king's. 

We are here all solito. Methinks you 
should do well to begin betimes to de- 
mand something of her majesty as might 
be found fit for you. And let folks chafe 
as well when you ask, as when you do 
not. Her majesty seems affected to deal 
iu the Low Country matters, but I think 
nothing will come of it. We are half 
persuaded to enter into the journey oi' 
sir Humphrey C;ilbert very eagerly; 
whereuntoyourMr. Hackluilhathserved 
for a very good trumpet. 

I can write no more, but that I pray 
for your long and happy life. And so [ 
commit you both to the giver of it. At 
Court, this 21st of July 1581. Y'ours 


Thomas Lord Buckhurst, to Robert Dudin,' 
Earl of Leicester, on the death of Sir 
Philip Sidney. 


My very good lord, 
nxH great grief do I write these lines 
unto you, being thereby forced to 
renew to your remembrance the decease 
of that noble gentleman your nephew, by 
whose death not only your lordship, and 
all other his friends and kinsfolks, but 
even her majesty, and the whole realm 
besides, do suffer no small loss and detri- 
ment. Nevertheless, it may not bring 




Book IT. 

the least comfort unto you, that as he 
hath both lived and died in lame of ho- 
nour and reputation to his name, in the 
-worthy service of his prince and coun- 
try, and with us great love in his life, 
and with as many tears for his death, as 
ever any had ; so hath he also by his 
good and godly end so greatly testified 
the assurance of God's infinite mercy to- 
wards him, as there is no doubt but that 
he now liveth with immortality, free 
from the cares and calamities of mortal 
misery; and in place thereof, remaineth 
filled with all heavenly joys and felicities, 
such as cannot be expressed: so as I 
doubt not, but that your lordship in wis- 
dom, after you have yielded some ^vhile 
to the imperfection of man's nature, will 
vet in time remember how happy in 
truth he is, and how miserable and blind 
we are, that lament his blessed change. 
Her majesty seemethresolutetocall home 
your lordship, and intendeth presently 
to think of some fit personage that may 
take your place and charge. And in my 
opinion, her majesty had never more 
cause to wish you here than now ; I pray 
God send it speedily. I shall not need 
to enlarge my letter with any other mat- 
ters, for that this messenger, your lord- 
ship's wholly devoted, can sufficiently 
inform you of all. And so wishing all 
comfort and contentation unto your 
lordship, I rest your lordship's wholly 
tor ever, to use and command as your 
own. From the Court, this 3d of No- 
Tember 1586. Your lordship's most 
assured to commaad. 


Sir Henry Hobart, Knight and Baronet, 
Lord Chief Justice *, to Robert Earl of 

My very good lord, 
HAVE received your lordship's letter, 
wherein I find all that could be ex- 
pected ; for I find an entire loving fa- 


* This sir Henry Hobart was great-grandson 
♦f sir James Hobart, attorney general, and of 
the privy council to king Henry the Seventh, 
who is celebrated by Camden, and other his- 
torians, for his piety, charity, and public bene- 
factions. SirHenry was knighted by king James 
on hisacCMSsion to the throne, made his attorney 
genf ral, and created a baronet on the first erec- 
tion ofthat dignity a«!2o 161 1, being the nintli in 
order of precedency. Also, the same year, was 
etHistituted \nrd chief justice of the common 

ther in your sorrow: I find a true Chris- 
tian in your patience: and I find a noble 
disposition, in that it pleaseth you toac^ 
knowledge the love which was repaid 
to that Christian soul in a full measure, 
not only by her husband, but by us, and 
all that belong unto us; whereof I would 
your lordship were an eye witness, to see 
the many unfeigned mourners, of my 
wife, children, kinsmen, allies, and 
friends, which though they do increase 
and daily revive the grief, yet I must 
confess it is a kind of contentment, when 
we see others join in that affection that 
we like and hold dear. But for my son, 
I must say true, his sorrow keeps no 
bounds, and when it will end I know 
not, and yet I cannot find in my heart to 
blame it. There are two things, that 
may much allay our sorrows; we have 
cause to joy that she died in the favour 

pleas, in which office he died, 2()th December, 
1 Car. I. 16'35, and was buried under a fair mwmi- 
nient in the middle isle on the noith side in 
Christ Cimrcli, Norwich. Since his death were 
published reports of several law cases, which are 
j-el esteemed among t he pro'Vssors of tlie law, and 
bear this title, " The Reports of that reverend 
" and learned Judge the right honourable Sir 
" Henry Hobart, Kniglit and Baronet, I^rd 
" Chief Justice of his Majesty's Court of Com- 
" Hion Pleas, andChahcellor to both their High- 
" nesses, Henry and Charles Prince of Wales, 
" &c." He married on the 2'2d of April 1590, 
Dorothy, daughter to sir Robert Bell, of Bcau- 
pree-Hall, in the county of Norfolk, knight, by 
whom he had issue sixteen children, the nativi- 
ties whereof he r-ecorded in a Bible, bought by 
my ingenious friend, and valuable antiquarj', 
Ralph Thoresby, of Leeds, F. R. S. who inf(jrntod 
me that Heniy bis eldest son was born at Nor- 
wich, 2Sth April 1.591, and that his twelfth, and 
youngest son, named also Henry, was born 17th 
November 1619. His eldest surviving son, John, 
was born at Norwich the 19th of April 1393, was 
knighted with his father, and was seated at 
Blickling, in the county of Norfolk, a manor his 
father had purchased of the noble family of EUil- 
lens, and had built there a stately house. He 
married the lady Philipa, diuighter of Robert 
Sidnej', the first earl of Leicester, and is the lady 
whose death occasioned this letter of the lord 
chief justice Hobart to her father. She was 
b^rn ISth August 1 j94, and died in the twenty- 
seventh year of her age, leaving a son, who died 
young, atid a daughter, Dorothy, njarriedfirstto 
sir Juhn Hele, knight, and secondly to William 
lord Croffts, who had no issue by her. And the 
said sir John dying without issue male, was suc- 
ceeded by his nephew and heir, John Hobart, 
son and heir of sir .\iiles llobnrt, the second sur- 
viving son of the lord chief justice Hobart. 
From which John tlie pre-;, nt lonl Hobart i* 
lineally descended, who is captain oi the band 
of gentlemen pensioners to our most gracious 
sovereign king<Jeofg«. 

Sect. I. 



of God and men ; for she lived most vir- 
tuous, and was in her devotions with 
zeal to her last breath : and she lived as 
long as was possible, for it appears, by 
that last act of her opening (which was 
guided by Dr. Ilarvey) that she had been 
preserved hitherto by art and care, and 
nyw all would not serve, and so she was 
overcome. lor the two motherless 
children, there lies a charge upon mc 
(for I will not quitmyst'lf from luy partj 
to sec to them, which I will not neglect. 
And for your Lordsjiip, 1 pray you let 
ine find no change of aliection on your 
part, and your Lordship shall ije assured 
that I will ever continue your Loidshiji's 
poor friend to do you service. • 


Durothy Countess uf I.tiicdir, iu the La) I 
her husband. 

My dearest heart, 
ATY Lord of Holland sent me this let- 
iTj. jpj. (,j- i^y Lord Treasurer's to him, 
aiKl I wonder much that I have heard 
nothing since, having iksired Islv. Haw- 
kins, in a letter, since he was here, to 
solicit the business very diligently, and to 
send one of purpose to let mc know when 
any thing was concluded, which 1 fear 
he has not yet had occasion to do. When 
Brown will be dispatched, I know not, 
for I heard nothing of him since he went ; 
and they say the council comes nt»t to 
Hampton Court, but that the King will 
meet them < very Saturday at \Vindsor. 
Sir John Temple, who is inquisitive in 
all aflairs, and much your servant, told 
me, that in the court it was rumoured 
that eitlicr you had commandment to 
make new demands, or some restrictions, 
which you had not before. He hears 
also, that the King is well inclined to 
the French business. My Lord of Hol- 
land is very jealous in it, and not one 
besitles, which makes mc fear that there 
will be great oppositions in what you de- 
sire to eil'ect : but, howsoever, I hope 
your labours and good intentions shall be 
well accepted by God and your King. 
Kmott was lately here with me, con- 
cerning some business of yours, in which 
I gave him the best advice I could, but 
theparticulars you will receive from him. 
It is a month since I expected my sister's 
company ; but my Lord Deputy is still 
thereabours, ajid till he be gone, I must 

not look for her. My brother I have 
not yet seen, being full of the King's 
business, as he pretends ; n<Mther have I 
percc ived any inclination in him, to draw 
me from the solitariness I sutler in this 
]>lace ; for though I expressed a willing- 
ness to go to him, were I accommodated 
for a journey, yet have 1 received no 
manner of invitation, which I take a lit- 
tle unkindly ; but it shall not much afllict 
me: for I thank Cod, and you, my 
dearest heart, that the obligations which 
1 have received from my tVicnds have, 
been very small, and 1 hope my necessi- 
ties of their favours will not be mcrcased. 
lUit of this coldness in my brother I will 
take no notice, or very little, and con- 
tent myself the best I can, with this 
lonely life, without envying their great- 
ness, their plenty, or their jollity. The 
principal trouble I sutler, next to the 
want of your company, is the apprehen- 
sions I have, of your being crost in what 
you desire to accomplish. But my best 
and most earnest prayers shall be often 
j)resented for you, and w ith your own, 
which I believe are better than mine, I 
hope those blessings shall be obtained 
which shall make us happy; and at this 
ti)ne, my only dear, no more shall bcj 
said to you, by your, 6cc. 

Penshurst, 10th November \6z6. 

Yesterday we had here a very solema 
fast, which is appointed to contii;ueevery 
AVednesday till it shall please God to re- 
move this plague from us. All your 
girls are well, and so was Robin a week 
ago. To Algernon I do send a blessing, 
whom I hear much commended by all 
that comes from you ; and Nic, who 
sp.ake well of very few, said he had a 
huge deal of wit, and much sweetness of 


The Countess of l.tkester, to her husband 
Robert Earl of Leicester. 

My clearcsi heart, 
"vrouii letters come now so rarely to 
^ me, as 1 sulVer more in your absence 
than I did ; for when 1 received almost 
evejy week those dear testimonies of 
your well being, and your kindness to 
me, it did ease much those discomforts 
that your absence doth bring. 1 his is 
il'.fc tiist letter tliat I send b) London ; 
L lor 


tor the last \v(ck my brother's bi'in;^ 
here forced mr to «»iiiit wriiinir. He 
came on Moml:i\ , aiul hit us ;ii::iiii on 
'I"luirs(i;iy, in \vhi( li tinic\ve wrroso con- 
tinually tn^tthir, as 1 could nut make 
iny dispatch. I pt icci\c no altiratiti|i 
in him, iieithtT do I lind liini much en- 
gaged in Iricndbhip witli any of the i^reat 
ones. Cottin^ton, I pciceive, is in dicH- 
nation with him, and so will he be with 
many more, except his power be£;reater 
than most bcliexe it is. Of my brother 
I inquired, wiiat he had hoard concern- 
ing you ; he told me, nothing to \our 
prejudice; but that it was said, Seignior 
Condce had pcrsuath-d you to be more 
inclinable t'j France than is well thought 
on here ; and that you were more earnest 
to engage the King in a war than the 
wise here do think fit. Imit I hope your 
proceedings are unlilaniabi'', and that 
)-our master, who understands tinm best, 
^^ilI rind them sucii as shall give him 
perfect satisfaction. I long extremely to 
hear what you think will be the con- 
clusion of your labour ; for the world 
among us a(Tirm conridently that the 
King will not be engaged in any war, 
and that the Elector shall return into 
Holland with a pension of 12,00Ul. a 
year; but perhaps many things are un- 
known to those that I converse with, and 
therefore crerlit my intelligence no far- 
ther than you lind there is cause. My 
sister is \et here, and so she intends to be 
till the latter end of Christmas; but I 
cannot brag much of her kindness tome, 
for it is very little, and certainly stays 
here for other considerations than jny 
company. My brother was verv earnest 
in persuading me to come to London, 
Vrhich I have promised to do in the lat- 
ter end of February, though I know not 
how to acconimofhitc myself handionulv 
for that place; but iny special want is "a 
gentleman usher, which I am unwilling 
to take, li Daniel behave himself woil 
with you, which 1 beseech ytm to let me 
know; for if he be not worth keeping, I 
would inquire afttr another, and so free 
myself from him ; but if he be good, I 
will suffer much rather than take a new 
one, anrl f will do any thing rather than 
wish him from you, if he does you ser- 
vice. It would joy me much to recieve 
some hope of that Lord's addresses to 
Doll, uhich once you writ of to me ; 
tor, «icxt to what concerns you, I confess 
she is considered by me above any thinff 

i:li- r; a nt j: im st le s 

Book 11. 

of this world; hut \ou shall have the 
fir-;t place, or rather the whole possession 
of her heart, who is most faithfully your 

I'enshurst, l.Qth Dec. ](K)0. 

Give Algernon a blessing, and offer 
my service to Mr. Croft. Vour com- 
panion Watt (.Montague) is expected 
here cv( rv day. 


T/ic Counters of J.cici-itcr, to llu Earl her 

My dearest heart, 
'j\ 1 V brother Northumberland writ rae 
- ' word, that your letters gave little 
hope that our j)ropositions would be re- 
ceived in France ; and all that I hear 
doth extremely discourage me from ex- 
pecting a good conclusion in those affairs ; 
but if you part, please your master. I 
hope we shall not suffer for howsoever 
the business doth ))rosp(;r between the 
Kings. I bi'lieve this employment may 
prove advantageous to you in a great 
projif-rlion, which I confess is the j)iin- 
ci])al thing I coirsidt-r ; and I do not be- 
lieve tl'.at you have such enemies in thv 
court as \ou conceive, for I have made 
cuiioii.iinijuisitions, and camiothear that 
any thing iiath been said to your preju- 
dice but what proceeded from the old 
secretary. Jf the great man be less kind 
to you than he was, assuredly it is be- 
cause you have entertained so great an 
intelligence with Holland, which now is 
not to be diminished ; hsr then it will b« 
thought, that your addresses to him were 
only in consideration of the money busi- 
ness which you desired he should solicit. 
Many think this great man hath much 
kindness to your companion (ScuJa- 
more), and that he doth resent the com- J^ 
])lnints you made of him ; but I hope you ^ 
are still reasonable well with him, and 
that you will be better when you meet ; 
for the other, which you think doth not 
love you, I hear he speaks vevy seldom 
with the King ; and though my Lord 
Goring said that he had done you ill of- 
fices, yet he could tell no particular^ 
niither could I ever receive the know- 
ledge of any, though 1 have sought with 

I forgot to tell you the last week, that 
my Lord of Ebsex's sou w us dea<i, and 


Sect. I. 



now I lliiiik that it will bt.' no lu'ws. My 
l.oril Spciiccr li;itlj also duiK- tlic Kin;,'- 
the couitfsy to Uavi' him a ijood ward ; 
and if vou disirfiiows for your Htth* Watt 
(.Moiila£»ui') you may tell liim that liis 
l":UhiT is druiiiv every meal, and that his 
brother .Maiidc\il is enriclied by ."^ir Na- 
thaniel Rich, who is (K'ad, and hath 
given all his fortune to him. 

"V'cii tell me that I do not ctirc for 
new.N, but I desire much more than you 
du atlonl me; for it is very lon<j; since 
y<m told me any thing of your (opinion 
concerning tlie success of your business, 
which 1 long cxtremily to hear ; and any 
thing else that belongs to you I covet 
with an excessive greediness. Where- 
fore, my dearest, be a little more liberal 
in those informations, and be assurcil, 
that your pains are i)estowed for her sa- 
tisfaction, who would not refus<' to give 
lier iife for your service, so iiiliiiitely are 
you biloved by your, ».\c. 

Penshurst, 'JSlh December \6M). 

Mv sister is yet here, and all )our 
cliildroji are well. 


I'rnin the aai/ic tu (lit same. 

^fv dearest heart, 
t^oii mj exceptions to your silence, I 
•■- humbly ask your pardon ; for since I 
have received three letters from you, the 
one by Mr. Auger, who 1 have not yet 
seen, but he writ to me with much ci- 
vility ; and, I hear, that he speaks of 
you with all the honour, estimation, and 
ati'ection, that can be , w hich shall make 
him as welcome to me as either of my 
brothers. Two letters more 1 have had 
since his arrival, but that which was lirst 
written came last to my handSj for my 
Lord of Holland sent it to me yesterday : 
and the other, which was dated the 27tK 
January, was received by me the 4th 
February, They all brought such con- 
tentment to me as nothuig but your own 
person can give me a joy beyond it; 
and though you reproach mo for chiding, 
yet I hope the consideration of the cause 
shall free me from ai>y further punish- 
ment than that gentle rebuke which you 
have already given me, Bv the two let- 
ters here inclosed, you will tind a change 
fnmi what I have heretofore declared to' 
you ; and besides the good success whiclx 

is now expected ui your negotiation, I 
tind there is a general a|)j>hiud of your 
proceedings} which is no snrall delight 
to mc, and, 1 hope, will be a great en- 
couragement to you : for though I corir 
ceive your labours to be very great, yet 
I trust the ( onclusion will be very goctd, 
and then all the pains will be rcmem- 
beri'd with pleasureandadvi'ntage to vou. 
I liope\ou ap|irehend more an alteration 
in the Archbishop of Canterbury than 
there is cause, for I could never hear of 
any thing he saiil to your prejiulici*, 
though 1 have been inquisitive enough ; 
but that he favours Scudmorelhere isno 
(juestion ; and if it be nothing but what 
has happened between you, I believe it 
will easily pass away. No ill ollices c;iji 
be done by CottingUMi, for they are at 
su( h a distance as they seldom speak one 
to the other: and, besides, I could never 
tind that the suspected party expressed 
any thing of malice to you, but \\ hen he 
multiplied the money thai had been paid 
to Leicester, which might be a mistake. 
lam glad voulind th.e Deputy of Ireland 
kind to Leicester, for certainly lie may 
do great courtesies, and so has he bc" 
haved himself lately, as he is extreme 
great with Canterbury, Cottington,Coke, 
and Windebank. 1 have no more cause 

to fear ill ollices from than for- 

nurly; for it is no new conceit that 
-. is not alfectionatc to me or 

mine; but if the party deceive me, I 
shall be glad, and for any thing I knovr, 
we arc on the same terms you lift as. 
I hope the 3001. you commanded shall 
be returned to you at the time ap- 
pointed; and when more is received, 
it shall be disposed of according to your 

The present also for the Queen of 
France I will be very careful to provide ; 
but it cannot be handsome for that pro- 
jiortion of money which j'ou do inen- 
tion ; for those bone laces, if they be 
good, are dear, and I will send of the 
best, for the honour of the nation, and 
my own credit. You persuade my go- 
ing to London, and there I shall play the 
ill housewife, which 1 perceive you are 
content tosulTer, rather than I should re- 
main in this solitariness; and yet my in- 
tention is not to remove till the begin- 
ning of the next month, except Mr. 
Auger's going away carry me up sooner. 
All the children I will leave here, ac- 
cording to your advice, and if you can 
L' 2 <pare 


i: L r G A N 'F E P I S T L E S. 

Book 11. 

^p-dvc Daniel, I (losire that you will send 
liim to mc lor the liiiic ul my bcinii at 
l^ndon. iSIr. Schidiuo coims in with 
your letter, whom I am engaged to cii- 
tiTtaiu a little ; bcsidrs, it is suppor 
tune, or cUe I should bestow oiic side t-f 
this paper in mai<iiij; l(>\e t<i you ; and 
since 1 may with modesty exj)ivss it, I 
will say, that if it be love to think on 
you sleeping and waking, to discourse ot' 
nothing with pleasure hut what concerns 
you, to wish mysell" every hour with you. 
and to pray for you with as much de- 
votion as for my own soul ; then cer- 
tainly it may be said that I am in love ; 
and this is all that you shall at this time 
hear from your, 6cc. 

IVnshuist, 7th Teb. l636. 

Kiss my boy Algernon tor mc, who 
sent lue a very pretty i'uncli letter. 


J'fic Coutiteas of Leicester, to the Earl her 

Jly dt^rcst heart, 
"V/- EST EH PAY I received Mr. Iluvig- 
^ ny's visit and ytJur letter. This 
morning, on my waking, I was saluted 
with more of your must welcome linis, 
wliich I expected the last night with some 
impatience. For, besides the most de- 
sired news of your good health, and the 
beloved expressions of your atieotion, I 
am infinitely desirous to recei\ e from you 
some assurance of a happy success in those 
atl'airs that you have negotiated with so 
much pains* But, howsoever the French 
behave themselves, I hope }ou will ac- 
quit yourself so as the King shall iind 
cause to value your service, and not to 
blame it. What has made people think 
y(iU more inclinable to France than vou 
ought to be, I do not know; but cer- 
tainly that has been the exception tliat 
the King has had to you ; which opinion 
I hope is now removed, and then" it 
will be easy to keep yourself from the 
like suspicion. I think 's in- 

terest with the King is more than is ge- 
nerally known, and I believe will be 
more than it is ; for with that party you 
are very well, as I hear by several per- 
sons. Watt Montague has supped twice 
hei-e within this week, and s^jjeaks of you 
with much estimation. It is not good 
Idsiiiij the offices which he may do, and 
iheKibre I pray continue u civility to 

l>im. This week St. George's feast has 
been solemnized ; my Lord of Danby, 
who I have not yet seen, performed his 
l)art, though hi- be very weak, and I 
fear will not last long, for they say he is 
deeply in a consumption. Xly Lord 
Lovelace I hear will be in town this 
week, and I think shall be pnsented first 
to my brother Norlhumberland, and 
then to us ; his estate, my lord Danijy 
says, is ()00()1. a year, and he now en- 
ters on 3J00l.; the rest his mother has, 
who they say is rich^and loves him very 
much. His person, 1 am told, is not to 
be disliked, nor he wants not wit ; but 
has kept extreme ill company, and will 
sometimes drink to distemper himself. 
This is a foul fault, and woukl keep mc 
from thinking on Liui at ;ill, did 1 not 
hope, that good advice, and gocjd con- 
versation, would bring him from any 
sucii delight ; for his brothers-in-law, who 
are the. best persons that he keeps with, 
do draw Uim to that vice, being ex- 
tremely addicted to it themselves. When 
1 know more concerning him, you shall 
be furtlier informed. I know you per- 
suade me to leave this town, oidy in eon- 
si(leratio4i of the danger, and therefore I 
do not intend to remove, till the King 
and <^ueen go from hence, because I 
apprehend that it is possible for mc to do 
you some service here. 

I have received 100 I. from the Low 
Countries, which 1 thiidv must be em- 
ployed in paying interest money. 2()0l. 
I have received from Men. Crickendall, 
which is reserved only for the payment* 
of workmen, having already begun to 
finish the upper rooms : the men do not 
work in the house, aud can bring no 
danger to us. 

1 do not conceive it to be at all dan- 
gerous for you to let the King know 
that you have spent much above his al- 
lowance, and that you cannot subsistwith- 
out someadditu.n ; for I believe he will 
not tliink it reasonable that your fortune 
should be ruined in his service ; and I 
think y(,u may represent your condition 
so t(j him, as he sliall rind cause to grant 
you a supply. In iny opinion, you had 
best direct this request only to himself; 
but 1 shall submit to any way that you 
think better. JMadain Croft is cojue 
hither, and I saw her yesterday. Sir 
William is extremely careful in what 
concerns Poll, and very kind to us all, 
iNly Lady Berkshire can:ies my sister now 


Sect. I. 



from all creaturos, which is no trouble 
to me. And .since Hiiivc nothing tosav 
that merits another sheet of paper,! will 
in this i^ve you a farewell, witii incni- 
atfectioa than can be declared by so ill 
oxpressor a<> is your, lS:c. 

Leicester House, t^Uth April l637, 

L ETT i: R XX.WIl. 
From the same to the su//ic. 

My dearest Iieart, 
■» yj-y civility to this liearer doth not so 
^*- nuich pirsuade nie to write, as the 
desires I have at all times to i)erforni 
that which may brinii me to your nn'- 
niory. And thoui;h I have nothing to 
say, which I can deliver without appre- 
hensions of giving you trouble, yet can 
I not be silent w hen any occasion is of- 
fered. By Mr. Cavendish I thought to 
have sent iiw present for the (^iicc n, but 
it is not yet ready, and therefore I must 
attend another opportunity, for I will 
have it in as good order as I can. My 
Lord of Danbyis much better th;in he 
was, and tliis day I am going to see him. 
My Lord Lovelace is at this instant here, 
and would fain made an excuse for his 
iibsence, which I have received with such 
an answer as he may understand to be a 
little check : what will come after it, shall 
be delivered to you the next week ; and 
at this time I beseech you to reci ive a 
full assurance of her faithful alfection, 
who is, with all sincerity, intirely yours. 
Leicester House, V2th May, l657. 

Fn'm the same to the utr/ie. 

My dearest heart, 
rpjiK app'elu'nsioii of your going to 
A Hamburgh brouglit me much trouble, 
till I was told that it would be absolutely 
left to your choice; ;ind ottered to you 
rather as a compliment, thati pressed on 
you as a necessity. NVhenlore, in that 
particular I am now reasonably well sa- 
tistied; yet will I not desist from the 
performance of all that may defend you 
i'rom that journey : fori am more ad- 
verse to it than vou can be ; though 
I am confident that if the King have any 
su<:h intention, it is with a belief that it 
will please you, and not discontent you ; 
for I think he is very well disposed to 

you. I am sorry you cannot keep your- 
self from being troubled with your com- 
panion's iolly, who I think is very little 
considirtd here, for I seldom hear 
Inm named ; and when he is, it is with 
contempt. All my pnsent for the 
(,!ueen of France is provided, which I 
ha\e doue with great care Hn<l some 
trouble; the expence I cannot ^ci di- 
rectly tell you ; but I think it will bo 
about I'vOl. for the bone laces are ex- 
tremely dear. I intend to smd it by 
Monsieur Jluvigny,f(;r most of the things 
aw of new fashion ; and if I should keep 
them, they would be less acceptable; 
for what is new now, will (piickly grcnC 
common, such things being sent over al- 
most every week. Now concerning Doll, 
of whom 1 can neither say what 1 desire, 
nor what I thought I should have done; 
for I lind my Lord Lovelace so unccrtahi 
and so idle, so nnich addicted to mean 
conipany, and so easily draw n to de- 
bauchery, as it is now my study liow to 
break oil" with him in such a manner as 
it may be said that we refused him ; 
lor since Sunday last, we have not se( i» 
him, though he is every day very near 
us. .Many particulars I could tell you of 
his wildness ; but the know ledge of them 
would be of no use to you, since he is 
likely to be a stranger to us ; for tl.'ough 
his estate is good, his person pretty 
enough, and his wit much more than or- 
dinary, yet dare I not venture to give 
Doll to him. And concerning my Lord 
of Devonshire, I can say as little to please 
you ; for though his nK)ther and sister 
made fair shows of good intentions to 
us, yet in the «Mid we lind them, just as 
I expected, full of deceit and juggling. 
'Ihe sistir is gone from this tow n ; but 
the young Lord is still h<'re, who never 
vi<;ited us but once, ar.dyet ;ill the town 
spoke of a marriage : which I tiijnk. 
Clime upon my Lord of Holland's di- 
v-ulging his conlidence that it would be 
so; and he conceises that he had much 
reason to believe what he did. I\lv dear 
heart, let not these cross acciilcnts trou- 
ble you, for we do not know what God 
lias j)rovided for her ; and, howsoever, 
let us submit to his will, and confess that 
his benetits are far beyond our deserts, 
and his punishments much less than we 
have rcasofi to expect. The last Sunday, 
being at the court to wait on the Queen, 
the Earl of Holland came formally in, and 
whispered with her Majesty, who pn— 
L J setuly 


E L E G A N T i: P I S T L E S. 

Book II, 

St nily called ittC ; and, with a cliccri'iil 
oouiiti'iiaiicf, saiil, iliat all was cou- 
cludod ill Fianct-, and that you had i.oiit 
ont» to <£ivc that a(l\tMt:Mim'p.t. \\ hich 
news 1 iTcoivid with much jov, and wont 
home \\ith an rxpi-ctatmn ot hcarini: it 
coiitlrmcd l^ a Uttir of vours ; but, 
upon enquiry, I I'ound that Holland liad 
niudf this i\ port upon a U-trer w hicli came 
to Sen tary Cooke, wherein there was 
no such thinj; as he had told the Queen. 
lie mak»ssufh foolis!i discourses to the 
Kini;of all that you write to him, as I 
think you had bitter say nothing to him 
of those discontents which I believe 
sometimes come to you by false in- 
Icrmations. And though you have cause 
o{ dislike, I do not think it advantageous 
for you to be ever taking excop!ions ; 
and Holland is so f;lad to get ar.y thing 
to talk on to tlic King, as he multiplies 
the least information that he receives; 
so as in my opinion you had not best 
^vrire any thing to him which you would 
not have him diiscoursc of. And, at this 
present, I can say no more; but that I 
am more y(;nrs than can be imagined, 
am uiorc impatient to si-e 30U than can 
be cxpressi'd ; which I hope will per- 
suade you to bestow thoughts (jf kind- 
ness on your, v^c. 

LeicL-ster IIqusp, ISlh May liioj. 


T/w Lad;) Dorothi Sldncv (nffcruanh- 
Countess of SundtrJaiid} to )icr lather 
Robtrt Earl of Lcicusttr. 

My Loid, 
TTAD not iny intcntipn been diverted 
^^ by the trouble ot a distemper, which 
a great cold produced ; and siijce tluij, 
by the expectation of llocheil's conijng 
hilh&r, I would not have been thus slow 
in presenting your Loidship with my 
jnoM humble tlianks for tiie many fine 
things that you have bestowed on nu-. 
And though they v>ill be my greatest or- 
r.amcnts, which is of miich consideration 
by persons no wi^.er than I am; tiiey 
rould not give me any conlcntmeiit, but 
as I understatid ijiey arc expressions of 
your Lordship's favour; a bicssipg that, 
above all others in fiiis world, I do with 
most passion de!>ire : and my ambition is, 
that w |)afsoe»-er your Lordship dolh pro- 
pound to be in }he perfectest good child 
upon the earth, you juay findaccpnjpliah- 

ed in me, that will ever be yoijr Lord* 
ship's most ariectionate, most humble and 
exactly obedient. 

rensliurst, Dec. 29, I'^'S. 

L ETT E 11 XL. 

Tiobrrt Lord Spiiicrr, to liis Ladi/ JJnrotJ/y, 
ditii^liicr (if Jlolitrt Earl of .f.(7Vtv/<r, 
^Juif of if in mplur, and dtci/p/nnd. 

My dearest heart, 
'■i"»iiii King's condition is much im- 
^ proved of late; his force inciras- 
cth daily, wliich increasith the inso- 
leiuy of the Papists, liow rnuch I am 
unsatisfied with the proceedings lu re, X 
have at large expressed in several letters. 
Neither is there wanting, daily, hand- 
some occasion to ritiie, were it not for 
grinning honour. For let occasion be 
never so handsome, unless a man were 
resolved to light on the Parliament side, 
which, f-.r my part I had rather l:)(j 
hanged, it will be said without doubt, 
that a man is at raid to fights If there 
could bean expedient found, to sai\e the 
punctilio of honouf, I would not cpnti- 
nue here an hour. The discimtent that 
I, and many other honest men, receive 
daily, is bcyontl expressioii. I'eoplc; are 
much divided ; the King is ot late very 
niiich averse to peace, by the persua- 
sions of and . It 

is likewise conceived, that the King has 
taken a resolution not to do any thing 
in that way before the (jueen comes; 
for people advising the King to agne 
with the Parliarnent, was the occasion of 
the Queen's return. Till that time no 
advice will be received; neverthihss, 
the honest men will take all occasions tq 
procure an accommodation ; which the 
King, when lie sent those messages, did 
heartily desire, and would still make of- 

fers in that way, but i'vv 



■ ■ ■ ■ and the expectation of the 
Queen, and the fear of the Papists, who 

threaten pe(/ple of : 1 fear the 

I'apists threats have a much greatcf in- 
fluence upon the King than upon— — -r-. 
What the King's intentions are, to thqse 
that I converse with, are altogether -uii- 
known; some say he will hai;ard a bat- 
tle very quickly ; others say he thinks of 
wintering; which as it is suspected, so if 
it v;ere generally believed, Sunderland 
and many others woijld make no scruple 
to retire; for I think it as far fiora gal- 

Sect. I. 

MOD r: U N O I' E A R L ^' I) A T V.. 


laiit, citlier to starvi.' witli tlir Kiu^^, or to 
do \vur!>e, as to avoid liL^litiiii^. It is 
s;ii(i die King gois on I'Vid;iy towanls 
{'iiislcr, tor u d:iy or two, Kii\iiig hi'. 
torccs here, wlucli arc, 6'(K)0 toot, l.>()0 
drago(»ns, and above i'uOO liorsi*. 'I'licri- 
mc -JOOO loot iiiori: raised, tlicy say 
;2(>(X) by my Lord Straii-f, 1000 liy SiV 
'riioiiias Salisbury, and lOOO l)y Sir VA- 
ward Strailiiii.'; all uliicli will U- hero 
within a. very tow days. This is a lii^ht- 
nin^j before death. 1 am yours, lVc. 
Shrewsbury, the Cist Sept. Kj'tJ. 

LKTTKll Xl.I. 
J'rom l/ic .same iv the same, lUn/jj/urcd. 

^My dearest heart, 
T HAVE received your h'tter of the 10t?i 

ot this instant, but have had none else 
'^ <;ood while, thou;;h you mentioned two 
others in this. Since we have been upon 
our march, I have had neither time nor 
opportunity to write, but I sent Alibone 
yesterday to Althorpe, with a short let- 
ter to you, and a loni^ one to my lady ; 
tor which trouble I beseech you to make 
my excuse, above one more than this, I 
believe I shall not have time to write, 
and opportunity to send, before we come 
to London; which, by the grace of (iod, 
will be as soon as so great an army can 
march so many miles. For not only 
- ' ' , but njost men believe, that the 

King's army will make its way, though 
Lord Essex's army is five times as many 

as we are. If the King, or rather • 

prevail, we are in u sad condition, for 
they will be insupportable to all, but 
most to us who have opposed thi-m, so 
that if the King prevails by force, I must 
uot live at home, which is grievous to 

me, but n)ore to you ; but if 

I a])prehend I shall not be suffered to 
live in England: and yet I cannot lancy 
any way to avoid both; for the King is 

so awed by ' , that he dares not 

propose peace, or accept : 1 fear though 
Ijy his last message he is ensiaged. But 
if that be oriered by the Parliament, I 
and others will speak their opinion, 
though by that, concerning the treaty, 

W'ere threatened by , who 

caused — — — to be commanded by 
the King, upon his allegiance, to return 
Jiuainst his will, he being too powi-rful 
tor ■ ■ , and by whom Eii;i,land 

is now likely to be governed. 

tliat it 

• taken notice ut it, 

ever -ince the Duke's going away: jny 
Lfiril Southampton, who |)ri'senls to you 
his jATvice, has hiin in the bedchamber. 
for all the King never speaks to ■* 

. , _■ . I had above 

an hour's discour?c with the Iving, about 
the treaty, which I would bi' glad you 
knew, but ir is too long with cypliers 
and unlit without, else we have had no 
commerce since we came from Notting- 
ham : 1 thank you for your care to sup- 
ply mc with money ; I should be sorry not 
to see you till I wanted it, for yesterday 
1 gave six score pounds for a horse of my 
cousin Clumsey's, w ho kissis your hands. 
This may appear an argument that I 
shall want the sooner, but if I had been 
in danger of that, I would have vt lUured 
my body upon a worse horso. If I durst 
write thus freely of all things, you 
should have \oJumes, but by this con- 
straint, I fear I have writ too much non- 
sense; for 1 can truly say of my writing 
in characters, as a great man of this king- 
dom said of his speakinsj, that he never 
knew what he meant to speak, before ho 
spake, nor what he iiad said, after he had 
spoken. Pray let my Lady Leicester 
know, that to write news, without or 
\viih a cypher, is inconvenient; ill com- 
pliments 1 dare not, having heard her so 
often declaim against good ones, so that 
out of mv respect 1 forbear writing often 
to her. I hear that Leicester has refused 
to shew hjs instructions to the Parliament 
without the King's leave, which resolu- 
tion I hope he will not alter, lest it should 
be prejudicial to him ; for the King 
is in so good condition at this time, that 
if the Parliament would restore all his 
right, unless the Parliament will deliver 
up to a legal trial all those jiersons named 

in his long , amhsoine others, 

he wdl not iiearken to peace. I hope 
Northumberland is in no danger, for 
besides the relation to him by you, I 
have been so obliged to him, that I very 
often think of hin\. The Parliament'j 
confidence which you spoke of in your 
letter is put on, lor really they are in 
ill condition, and h i> impossible but 
L + they 



Book ir. 

thry must know it. I never saw tin' 
Kin? look bctttr, ho is very clu'ortul, 
and by the bawdy>ui-so 1 thou<:ht I 
had been in tiie drawin<r room. Money 
conies in beyond rxpectation, the loot 
are reasonah!}- well paid ; the horse have 
not bien paid, but live upon the coun- 
try. 'Ihc Kin^ is very c<^)od of himself, 
and would be so still, were it not for evil 
counsellors: for he gives very strict or- 
<]( r, that as little spoil be made as is pos- 
sible. To-morrow we march to Bir- 
Tiiingham*, and so on the road to Lon- 
don, from whence, by the grace of God, 
I will come to Pcnshurst, whore I hope 
to see you past all your pains. I wrote 
to you last, to desire you to invite all my 
sisters to you, for I doubt London will be 
shortly a very ill place. I am yours, 
and my Lady Carlisle's humble servant. 
You see I have not spared my pains, 
but unless you have received a letter that 

I w,it to you from — , you will 

not well understntid the inclosed : pray 
keep it to yourself, for I send it to you 
to have your opinion, whether it be ri- 
diculous or no. 1 am yours. 

LET 'i' E R XLU. 

Jiohcrt Lord Sjioiccr, to his T.atli/ Dorothy, 
(lai/g/iicr (ij Robert Earl of Lcicattr. 

My d( heart, 
rpHK King's sudden resolution of go- 
-*- ing before Gloucester, hath extremely 
disappointed moj for when 1 went from 
I'jristol on Monday inorning, ho was re- 
^olved to come hither this day, and to 
that purpose sent his troop bolore. 
Upon this, I, and twcj (jr three gentlemen 
agreed to meet his Majesty here this day, 
and to take the ]')ath in our way, which 
we did accordingly; by which means, 
WQ missed his .Majesty, being gone this 
inorning tr)\vards Gloucester ; and to- 
morrow morning he will be before it, 
where I intend to wait upon him. The 
King's going to Gloucester is in the oj)i- 
nion of most very unadvised. I lind the 
Queen isunsatislied with it; so is all the 
people of quality. I am not able to give 
you any account upon what grounds the 
King took this resolution: it may Ijeyou 
will think, that I am sparing of my 
pains, but really had I any more to 

• O-tober 14th, 1 642, tlie Kiug marclied to 


say, I would set it down. You will re- 
ceive two other letters from mo by this 
messenger, one of which I wrote before 
my going hence, the other at Bristol ; 
they arc of so old h date that I should 
do you a great service to burn them ; 
but because you often reproach me for 
failing in this kind of kindness, I will 
send them, hoping that you will receive 
them kiiulh", accordinii to the intention 
of him that wrote them; who is most 
passionately yours. 

Aug. 9th, at sunset, l64;3. 

I do most humbly kiss my Lady Lci-t 
coster's hands. 


Fro?n the same to the same. 

My dearest heart, 

JUST as 1 was coming out of the 
trenches, on Wednesday, I received 
your letter of the 20th of this instant, 
which gave me so much satisfaction, that 
it ])Ut all the inconveniences of this siege 
out of my thoughts. At that instant, if 
I had followed my own inclinations, I 
had returned an answer to yours; writing 
to you, and hearing from you, licing the 
most pleasant entertainment that I am 
capable of in any place; but espec'ially 
hero, where, but when I am in the 
trenches (which place is seldom without 
my compaii}), 1 am more solitary than 
ever I was in my life; this country being 
very full of little private cottages, in onu 
of which I am (piartercd, where my Lord 
Falkland did mo the h(inour, last night, 
to sup: INlr. Chillingworlh * is now 
here with nio, in Sir Nicholas Selwin's 
place, who has been this week at Oxford ; 
our little engineer comes not hither sq 
much out of kindness to me as for his 
own conveniency, my quarter being 
throe or four miles nearer the leaguer 
than my Lord of Devcmshire's, with 
whom he stfiyed till he was commanded 
to make ready his engines with all pos- 
sible spied. It is not to be imagined 
with what <liligence and satisfaction 
(I mean to himself) he executes this 
command; for my part, I think it not 
unwisely done of him to change his ])ro- 
fession, and I think you would have 
been of my mind if you had hiurd liiin 

A famous ilivine. 


Sect. I. 



dispute last night with my Lord Falk- 
land in favour of Sociniariism ; wherein 
he was by liis Lordsliip so often con- 
founded, thai really it appears he has 
much more reason for his engine than 
for his opinion : I put olf my writing 
till last nit;ht, out of hopes th^t some- 
thing here would havr happened worthy 
your knowledg' , ijiore than wiiat I wrote 
to you tlic day before; and you see 
what good company made me defir it last 
Tught, at which time I was newlv come 
from our leaguer, whither I thought to 
have gone this morning ; but I liave got 
such an angry pimple, or rather a kind 
of a small bile, 'n such a place that as 
I cannot ride without pain, so I cannot 
vith modesty make a more particular 

description. ■ ■ 

tiiul that we had only an alann, whicli 
they gave to hinder our working, not 
daring to sally any more, being so well 
l)eaten the last time: the night before 
they oflered to make a sally, forty or 
fifty of them being without their sally 
port, but we instantly beat them back. 
Our gallery will be linished within this 
day or two, and then wc shall soon dis- 
patch our mine, and them with it. Many 
of the soldiers arc confident that we shall 
have the town within this four days, 
which I extremely long for, not that I 
cim w eary of the siege ; for really though 
we suffer many inconveniences, yet I am 
not ill pK-ased at this variety, so directly 
jpposite to one another, as the being in 
the trenches with so much good com- 
panv, together with the noise and tinta- 
inarre of guns and drums, the horrid 
•pectaclis, and hideous cries, of dead 
un\ hurt men, is to the solitariness of my 
juarler ; together with all the marks of 
>eace, which often luring into my 
houghts (notwithstanding your mother's 
)pinion of me) how intinitely more happy 
[ should esteem ni\ self quietly to enjoy 
I'our company at Althorpe, than to be 
roubled with the noises, and engaged in 
he factions of the court, which I shall 
!ver endeavour to avoid; should that be 
:ompassed, nothing on my part shall be 
Mnitted, he being as he tells nie, now 
"ontriving how to lay ilie business st) with 

and Lord Jcrmin, who pro- 

essed much kindness ' - 


— that it may in pro- 

»abili ty, take — -—_-—_ _— . _=— . — 

^— I thought it would not be 

amiss to acquaint )ou with this, because 
it may interrupt your friend . his 
business ; for it appe;irsso foul a business 

to my friend — , that he 

told me he would endeavour to i\o 
them both all the service he could» 
by kee])ing it oft'; but if that can- 
not be done ; and that it is necessary for 

— — to be engaged (which if it is 

possible he will avoid) in justice he must 
be very severe to that person who is verj 
kind to him (pardon this outrageous pa- 
renthesis) ; but rhat I would be glad to 
know what resolution we shall take upon 
it, that I migiit order my own private 
business accordingly. I shall endeavour 
to provide you belter lodgings at Ox- 
ford, and will be careful to furnish them 
according to your desire; which I for- 
bear yet to do, because it is not yet cer- 
tain that we shall not take in Coventry 
and Northampton in our way to London. 
I have writ two or three letters to you 
since that which Alibone brought you, in 
one of which I took notice of Holdenby, 
by which I am more disobliged than by 
any thing that was in his power to do: 
Sunderland was not at all concerned in it 
for himself; for his principal design was, 
so lo order that business that Lady Sun- 
derland might have had it after him, 
V. ho, sl'.ould he die now, would be desti- ■ 
tute of a good house. I am able to give 
you no account of the Earls of Bedford, 
Clare, and Holland : nothing being re- 
solved concerning them when I came 
from Oxford, more than that they should 
be very well used, but without doubt 
they will ere long be better received than 
they ought to expect. When we were 
at Bristol, Sir ^^ illiam was there, but I 
hear that he is now lately gone to Here- 
ford, for which I envy him, and all 
others, that can go to their own houses; 
bet I hope ere long you will let me ha\e 
your company, and Popet's, the thought 
of which is to me most pleasant, and pas- 
sionately desired bv yours. 

Aug. 2;)th, from before (iloucester. 

Since I wrote this, I hear the King 
goes to-morrow to Oxford, from whence 
he will return on Monday, whither I 
cannot ride witliout pain, and therefore 



r. L E ij A \ T E P I S T L E S. 

Book II. 

iiucn<l not to wait upon him. Sir Wil- 
liam Killigr. \v is your sorviuit, to wlioiii 
the Kill" luis given thi- reversion of 
Pcndcnnis Castle, niter Arunilell, who is 
thre'cscon- and ten ; with w hich he is e.\- 
trenirls ulciisrd, it bting tlic tiiinn in the 
world l;e muit desired. 

LETTER Xl.n'. 

FiChert Lord Sprvctr, fo hit haihi Dorn- 
thy, (iaugiittr of Robert Earl of' Lci- 
ctster. Jour Hays hijore the Jight of 
^eubtrry, •u/icrt ht nas */«/«. 

QINCE I wrote to you last from Sulbcy, 
*^ we had some hopes one day to light 
vilh my Lord of Essex's army, we 
leceivins: certain intelligence of his bc- 
jng in a field convenient enough, calUd 
Hippie Fiehl, towards which we ad- 
vanced with all possible speed; upon 
•which he retind with the body of his 
army to Tewkesbury, where by the ad- 
vantage of the bridge, he was able to 
make good liis quarter, with five hundred 
jnen, against twenty thousand. So that 
though we were at so near a distance, as 
we could have been with him in two 
hours ; his quarter being so strong, it 
was resolved on Thursday, that we see- 
ing for the present he would not fight 
■with us, we should endeavour to force 
hJrn to it by cutting oft" his provisions ; 
for which purpose, the best way was, for 
fhe body of our army to go back to 
Evesholme, and fox our horse to distress 
him: upon which I, and many otiicrs, 
resolved to come for a few <lays hither, 
there being no probability of fighting very 
suddenly, where we arrived lateon Thurs- 
day ni^ht. As soon as 1 came, I went 
to your father's, whore I found Alibone, 
wiih whose face 1 was better pleased than 
with any of the ladies here. This ex- 
pression is so much a bolder thing than 
charging my Lord Essex, that sliould 
this letter miscarry, and come to tlie 
knowledge of our dames, I should, by- 
having my eyes scratched out, be cleared 
from coming away from the arniy for 
ft>ar ; where if I had stayed, it is odds I 
should not have lost mon- than one. Last 
niaht very good news came to court, that 
we, ycstirday morning, fell upon a horse 
f]uart( r of the enemies, and cut oil' a re- 
ginie<it, and that my Lord of Newcastle 
liath killed and taken prisoners, two 
whole reg inents of horse and foot ihut 

issued out of Hull ; which place he hath 
great hopes to take ere long. By the 
same ines^enger, last night, the King 
sent the Queen word that he would come 
hither on .Monday or Tuesday; upon 
one of which days, if he alter his reso- 
lutions, I shall not fail to return to th» 
army. I am afraid our sitting down be- 
fore Gloucester has hindered us tVom 
making an end of the war this yi-ar, 
which nothing could keep us from do- 
ing, if we had a month's more time, 
which we lost there, for wc never were 
in a more prosperous condition ; and yet 
the divisions do not at all diminish, espe- 
cially betwixt - and , 

by which wc received prejudice. I ne- 
ver saw ■ ■ ■ use any body with 

more neglect than— , and we say 

he is not used much bett*.'r by the(^uecn. 
Mrs. .Icrmyn met my Lord Jermyn (who, 
notwithstanding your intelligence, is but 
a Baron) with whom I came, at NN'ood- 
stokc, with a coach, who told me she 
would write to you, which 1 hope she 
hath done; for since I came here, 1 have 
seen no creature but your lather and my 
uncle; so that I am altogelher ignovant 
of the intrigues of this place, lit fore I 
go hence, I hope somebody will come 
from you, howsoever I shall have a let- 
ter here for you. I Iiave taken the best 
care I can about my a:conomical aflairs; 
I am afraid I shall not be able t(j get you 
a better house, every body thinking mc 
mad for speaking about it. i'r<iy bhss 
Popet * for me, and tell her I would 
have writ to her; but that, upon ma-» 
ture deliberation, I found it to be unci- 
vil to return an answer to a la.-iy, in ano- 
ther character than her own, which 1 am 
not yet learned enough to do. 1 cannot 
by wiilking about my chamber, call any 
thing more to mind to set down here, and 
really I ha\e made you no small compli- 
ment in writing thus much ; for 1 have 
so great a cold, that 1 do nothing but 
sneeze, and mine eyes do nothing but 
water, all the while 1 aui in this posture 
of hanging down my head. I beseech 
you to present his service to my lady, 
who is most passionately and perlectly 

Oxford, September the Hhh, U>4-3. 

JMy humble service to Lady Lucy, 
and the other little ladies. 

* She was liis daughter, and afterwards Maj- 
chioue^ of Halifax. 

Sect. I. 




ilohrrf Earl of Lciocster, to /liv <Jaui:hfcr 
J)urutlni i'uuntrss of Stnidi. ilaiid, un tin- 
dtoth of tin- Karl fur fnislm/nl, ufio lust 
/lis lijf, lalinitlhi fitsfiliiii^ for King 
C/iar/cs iltc I'hst, at tfu buttle uf WiXi- 
(jcrri/, '20lfi .S(/y/. 10-13. 

:My clear Dull, 
T K.vcfW it is no purpose to mlvl'^c 
••^ you not to grieve; that is not ni) in- 
tcMiion ; for such a loss as yours cannot 
be received inilitlenntly, by a nature so 
tender and so sensible as yours; but 
though your atleciion to him whom you 
loved so dearly, and your reason in \a- 
luing his merit (neiiher of which you 
could do too much'), did expose you to 
the danger of that sorrow which now 
oppresseth you; yet if you consult with 
♦hat atlection, and with that reason, I 
am persuaded that you will sec cause to 
}noderate that sorrow ; fur your alVection 
to that worthy person may tell you, that 
even to it you cannot justify yourself, 
if you lament his being raised to a de- 
gree of happiricss, far beyond any tlnit 
he did or could enjoy upon the earth ; 
such as dtpcnds upon no uncertainties, 
)ior can suffer no dimunition ; and 
wherein, though he knew your suffer- 
ings, he could not be grieved at your 
afflictions. And your reason will assure 
you, that beside the vanity of bemoaning 
that which hath no remedy, you ortend 
liim whom you loved, if you hurt that 
person whom beloved. Remember how 
apprehensive he was of your dangers, 
and how sorry for any thing that troul)led 
you: imagine that he sees liow youalllict 
and hurt yourself ; you %\ ill then believe, 
that though he looks upon it without any 
])enuruation, for that cannot be admit- 
ted, b)- thai blessed condition wlierein he 
is, yet he inay censure you, and think 
you forgetful of the friendship that was 
between you, if you pursue not his de- 
sires, in being careful of yourself, who 
was 50 dear unto him. Rut he sees you 
not; he knows not what y^ou do; well, 
what then ! Will you do any thing that 
would displease him if he knew it, be- 
cause he is where he doth not know it ? 
I am sure that was never in your thoughts; 
for the rules of your actions were, and 
must be, virtue, and affection to your 
husband, not the censideralion l*( his ig- 
Iiorance or knov/leJge of what you do ; 

that is but an accident ; neither do "I 
think that his presence was at any time 
more than a circumstance, not at ail ne- 
cessary to your abstaining from those 
things which might disijleasc him. Assure 
yourself, ihat all the si^hs and tears thaj, 
y( ur heart and i ves can sacrifice unto 
yiiur grief ^ure not such testimonies of 
your adection, as the taking care of 
those whom he loved, that is, of your- 
self and of thi;*>e j)ledges of your mutual 
Irliiidship and aiieclion w Inch he liatU 
Kit witi) you; and which, though you 
would abandon yourself, nuiyjuslly chal- 
lenge of you the performance of their 
father's trust, reposed in you, to bi: 
careful of them. Ecjr their sakes, there- 
fore, assuage your grief; they all have 
need of you, and one, especially, whose 
life, as yet, doth absolutely depend on 
yours, i know yooi livetl happily, and 
so as nobody but yourself could mea- 
sure the contentment of it. J rejoiced 
at it, and did thank God for making me 
one of ti.e means to procure it for jou. 
That now is past, and 1 will not flatter 
you so much, as to say, I ihink you can 
ever be so havpy in this life again: but 
this comfort you owe me, that I may 
see you bear this change and your mis- 
fortunes jnuiently. I shall be more 
pleased with that thtiii with the other, 
by as much as I esteem vijtue and wis- 
dom in you, more than any inconstant 
benefits that foi tune could bestow upon 
you : it is likely that, as many others 
do, )0u will use examples to authorise 
the present passion w hich posscsseth vou ; 
and you may say, that our Saviour him- 
self did weep for the death of one lie 
loved ; that is true ; but we must not 
adventure too far after his example in 
that, no more tiian a child should run 
into a river, because he saw a man wade 
through ; for neither his sorrow, nor any 
other passion could make hirnsin; but 
'it is not so with us: he was jtlcased to 
take our infirmities, but he hath not im- 
parted to us his power to limit or re- 
strain them ; for if we let our passions 
loose, they will grow headstrong, and 
deprive us of the power which we must 
reserve to ourselves, that we may re- 
cover the government which our n-ason 
and our religion ought to have above 
thi'tn. I doubt nut but your eyes are 
full of tears, and not the emptier for 
those they shed. God comfort you, and 
let \i> ioiu in praver to him, that he will 



Book IE 

Ue pleased to give his grncc to you, t'^ 
your mother, ami to niysolt", that ail of 
Bs may resi<;ii ami suiimit ourselves en- 
tirely ami cheerfully to hisplcasuiv. So 
nolhina shall he ahle to make us unhap- 
py in this lite, nor to hiiuler us iroin 
iiiincT hapjiy in thw winch is etiriial. 
Which that you may enjoy at the end 
oi'your days, whyse numlvr I wish as 
»reat as ot any mortal creature; and 
that through ihem all you may tind such 
comforts as are best and most necessary 
for you ; it is, and shall vvcv be, the 
constant prayer'of your father that loves 
vou dearly. 

Oxfocd,' 1.0th October, lG4J. 


Hohert Earl of Leicester to the Queen, at 
Oxford, desiring to know 7vh/ he teas 
dismissed from t/ic qlficc of Lord Lieii- 
ti'Hant of Ireland. 

QUFKEU yourself, I Ix-secch you, to re- 
*^ ceive from a person, happy hereto- 
fore in your IMajesty'syood opinion, this 
humble petition : That whereas t!ie King 
hath conferred a great honour upon me, 
which now he hath taken from me, after 
a long and expenccful attendance for my 
dispatch ; and after his Majesty had di- 
vers times signified, not only to me, but 
to my Lord Percy also, his intention to 
send me into hvland ; since which, I 
cannot imagine what I have done, to al- 
ter his Majesty's just and gracious pur- 
pose towards me. 

And whereas it hath pleased the King 
to tell me lately that he had both ac- 
<juainted your ^lajesty at the first, with 
lijs intention to give me that employ- 
nwnt, and since, that he would deprivf.-. 
"me of it ; I humbly conceive it to be vc ry 
likely, that the King hath also told your 
Majesty the cause that moved him to it; 
for, I presume, that upon a servant of his, 
and yours, recommended to his favour 
by your Majesty, he would not put such 
a disgrace without telling your INIajesty 
the reason why he did it ; but, as I 
could never flatter myself with any ron- 
4-eit that J had deserved that honour, so I 
cannot acc<ise myself neither of having 
tleserved to be dispossessed of it in a man- 
uer so extraordinary,- and so unusual to 
the King, to punish without shewing the 
«uuses.of his displeasure. 

In all humility, theicfore, I beseech 
your Maje.■^ty to let me know my fault, 
which I am confident I shall acknovvr 
li'dgi', as soon hs 1 may see it; for 
thouiih it be too late to olfer such satis- 
faction as, being graciously accej)ted, 
might have prevented the misiorlune 
which has fallen upon me ; yet I may 
present the testimonies of my sorrow for 
iiavin-i givin anv just cause of otfcnce to 
either of your ^laj-stics. 

I seek not to recovi'r my office. Ma- 
dam, butyour good opinion ; or to obtain 
your panlon, if my fault be but of er- 
ror; and that I may either have the hap- 
piness to satisfy your Majestiesthat I have 
not offended, and so justify my first in- 
nocence, or gain repentance, which I 
may call a second innocence. I must 
confess, this is a great importunity ; but, 
I presume, your Majesty will forgive it, 
if you please to consider how much I am 
concerned in that which brings instant 
destruction to my fortune, present disr 
honour to myself, and the same, for ever, 
to my poor family ; for I might have 
])assed away unregarded and unremem- 
bered. But now, having been raised to 
an eminent place, and dispossessed of it 
otherwise than I think any of my prede- 
cessors in that place have been, the usual 
time being not expned, no offence ob- 
jected, nor any recompence assigned ; I 
shall be transinitted to the knowledge of 
following times, with a mark of distrust, 
which I cannot but think an infamy, 
full of grief to myself, and of prejudice 
to my pusteril3% 

for these reasons, I humbly beseech 
your Majesty to make my offence to ap- 
pear, that I may undeceive myself, and 
see that it was but a talse integrity which 
I have boasted and presumed U[)on,.that 
others may know that which yt't they 
can but suspect ; and that 1 may no 
longer shelter myself under the vain pro- 
tection of a pretended affection to the 
King and your Majesty's service, nor 
under the excuse of ignorance or infirmi- 
ty : but let me bear the whole burden of 
disloyalty and ingratitude, which ad- 
mits no protection nor excuse. And f 
humldy promise ytmr Majesty, that if 
either of tliosc crimes be proved against 
me, I never uill be so impudent as tq 
importune you for my pardon. But if I 
be no otherwise guilty than a misinfor- 
mation, or misfortune, many times 
makes men in this world ; then I beg 


Sect. I 



leave to think still, that I havp been a 
faithful subject and servant to the Kiii;^. 
And tho i^h I irnounct' all other worldly 
contentments, whilst the miseries ol' these 
times endure, wherein the King, your 
Majesty, and the whole kingdom sutler 
so much that it would be a shame tor 
any private inan to be happy, and a sin 
to think himseltso; yet there is one hap- 
piness that I may justify ; theretbvc I 
aspire luito it, and hinnlily (Usire it of 
your Majesty, that you will be pleased to 
think of me as of your .Majesty's most 
J'ailhi'ul and most obedient creature, 
i/tli Dtcember, l6"+3. 


Algcrium Sldncji to his father JiolLit Earl 
uf I.ticcikr. 
I\Iy Lord, 
n^'iiK passage of letters from England 
hitlier is so uncertain, that I did not, 
until within these very few days, hear the 
sad news of my mother's death. I was 
theji with the King of Sweden at Nyco- 
jjin in Falster. This is the first op])or- 
uity I have had, of sending to condole 
uithyour Lordfhip, a loss that is so great 
to yourself and your family; of which 
my sense was not so much dimini:-hed,iii 
being prepared by her long, languishing, 
and certainly incurable sickness, as in- 
creased by the last words and actions of 
her life. 1 confess, persons in such tem- 
pers arc most fit to die, but they are also 
jnost wanted here ; and we that tor a 
vhile are left in the world, are most apt, 
and perhaps with reason, to regret most 
the loss of those we most want. It may 
be, light and human passions are most 
suitably employed upon liuman and 
worldly things, wherein we have some 
sensibh: concernment; thoughts, abso- 
lutely abstracted from ourselves, arc 
more suitable unto that sleadinessofn>ind 
that is much spoken of, litth- sought, and 
never found, than that whicli is seen 
amongst men. It were a small compli- 
ment for me to oiler sour Lordshij) to 
leave the employment in which I am, if 
I may in any thing be able to ease your 
Lordship's solitude. If I could propose 
that to myself, I would cheerfully leave 
ii condition of much more pleasure and 
ailvantage than 1 cuii with reas:)n hope 



Dr. Sharp to the Duf.c uf llucUn^ham ; 
'cith Qincn Elizabeth's speech to her 
a mil/ at 'J'i/Liiri/ Fort. 

RE.MEJiBEU, in eighty-eight, waiting 
upon the Earl of Leicester at Tilbury 
Camp, and in eighty-nine, going intw 
Portugal with my noble jnaster, the Earl 
of Essex, I learned somewhat lit to be 
imparted to your (irace. 

The Queen, lying in the camp cue 
night, guarded witli her army, the old 
Lord Treasurer Burleigh came thither, 
and delivered to the Earl the examina- 
tion of Don Pedro, who was taken and 
brought in by Sir Francis Drake, wLicti 
examination the Earl of Li-icester de- 
livered unto me to publish to the army 
in my next sermon. The sum of it was 

D'-n Pedro being abl\cd, what was thv 
intent of their coming, stoutly answered 
the Lords, What, but to subdue your na- 
tion, and root it out ? 

Good, said the Lords ; and what meant 
you then to do with the Catholics ? lie 
answered, We meant to send then (good 
men) directly unto Heaven, as all you 
that are hen-tics to hell. Yea, but said 
the L'jrds, what meant you to do with 
your whips of cord and wire ? (whereof 
they had great store in thiir ships) 
What? said he, we meant to whip you 
heretics to death, that have assisted my 
master's rebels, and done such cishonours 
to our Catholic King and people. Yea, 
but what would you have done, said tliey, 
with their young children? They, said 
he, which were above seven years old, 
should have gone the way their fathers 
went ; the rest should have lived, branded 
in the forehead with the letter L. for Lu- 
theran, to i)erpetual bondage. 

This, I take God to witness, I re- 
ceived of those great Lords upon exami- 
nation taken by the council, and by 
conmiandment delivered it to the arwv. 
'Mie Queen, the next morning, rode 
through all the squadrons of her army, 
as arnied Pallas, attended by noble foot- 
men, Leicester, Essex, and Norris then 
Lord Marshal, and divers other g^-at 
Lords, Where she made an excellent 
oration to her army, w hich the next day 
after her departure, I was commanded 
to re-deliver to all the arrnv together, ty 


ns 1- L i: r; A N T I 

*'ccp a public fa^t, licr \vords were 

'' My loving people, we 1ki\o Ixcn 
" pcisuadi\l by some that are careful of 
*' our safety, to take het-d liow we com- 
" jnit ourself to armed iiuiltitmles lor 
" fear of treachery : but I assure you, I 
"' lio not desire to live to distrust my 
" faitliful and hivina; people. Let tvranis 
" tear ; I have always m) behaved myself, 
" that uurlcr God I have place<l my 
" ehicl'est strenizlh and safeguard in the 
*' loyal liearts and i;ooil-will of my sub- 
*' jects. And therelore I am come, 
*' amongst you as \ou see, at this time, 
** not for my recreation and disport, but 
" boipiW resolved in the midst and heat 
" of the battle to live or die amoni;'^t 
" you all, To-lay down i'vr my t-od, and 
*' for my kingdtxin, ajid for my people, 
'• my honour, and 4m' blood, even in the 
" du.-t. 1 know I have the body but of 
** a weak and feeble woman, but 1 have 
" liie heart and stomach of a King, ami 
•' of a king of Kiigland too; and think 
*' foul scorn, that I'arma, or Spain, or 
*' any Prince in Europe, should dare to 
" invade the borders of my realm ; to 
'• whicii, rather than any dishoncur 
" should grow by me, I myself will 
*' take up arms, 1 myself will be your 
•'general, judge, and rewardcr of every 
•' one of your virtues in the lield. 1 
•' know already for your forwardness, 
"' you have deserved rewards and 
" crowns; an;! we do assure you in the 
*' word of a Prince, they shall be duly 
" paid you. In tin- mean time, my 
" Lieutenant Cieneral shall be in my 
*' stead, than whom never Prince com- 
*' maiided a more noble or worthy sub- 
*' ject ; not doubling but by your obe- 
" dience to my general, by your con- 
*' cord in the cauip, and your valour in 
*' the lield, we shall shortly have a fa- 
" nuuis victory over those enemies of 
" n)y God, of my kingdoms, and of my 
" pe(;ple." 

'J'his I thought would delight your 
Clrjice, and no man hath it but myself, 
and such as 1 have given it to; and 
therefore I made bold to send it uutoyou, 
U' you htive it not already. 


Book n 


Lord liacon tu Jumcs I. 
It mnypleaseyour most excellent majesty, 
T DO many times .with gladness, and 
-^ for a remedy of ntj' oilier lairours, ro- 
v(dve in my miwd the great happiness 
wliicli God (of his singular goodness) 
hath accumulated upon your majesty 
every way ; itiul how complete the same 
would be, if the state of your means were, 
once rectified and well oidercd ; your 
people military and (d;edienf, lit for war, 
used to peace; your church enlightened 
with good prtachers, as an Ueaven with 
stars; your judges learned, and learning 
from you just, and just by your exam- 
])le ; your nobility in a right distance be- 
tween crown and jieople, no oppressors 
of the people, no oversliadowers of the 
crown; your council full of tributes of 
care, faith, and freedom ; your gentlemen 
and justices of peace willing to Jipply 
your royal mandates to the .nature of 
their several counties, but ready to obey ; 
your servants in awe of your wisdom, in 
hope of your goodness; the lields grow- 
ing every day, by the inrprovement and 
recovery of grounds, from the desart to 
the garden ; the city grown from wood 
to brick ; your sea-walls, or jioiiirrin/ii of 
your island surveyed, and in edifying; 
your merchants enibracing the whole 
compass of the world, east, west, north, 
and south ; the times giving you ])eacc, 
and yet offering you opportunities of 
action abroad ; and, lastly, your excellent 
royal issue entailing these blessings and 
favours of God to descend to all poste- 
rity. It resteth, therefore, that God 
having done so great things for your ma- 
jesty, arid you for others, you would do 
so much for yourself as to go through 
(accor;Jing tci your good beginnings) 
with the rectifying and settling of your 
estate and means, whieh only is wanting. 
JIuc rebus ihj nit unum. I ihercfore, whom 
only love and duty to your majesty, and 
your royal line hath made a financier, 
do intend to present unto your majesty a 
perfect book of your estate, like a per- 
spective gltiss, to draw your estate near 
to your sight ; beseeching your majesty 
to conceive, that if I have not atlained 
to that that I would do in this which is 
not ])roper for me, nor in my element, 
1 shall make your majesty amends in som« 
other thing in whicli 1 am bwtttr br»^. 
Ciod ever preserve, Cvc. 

>cct. I. M O D E R X O F 

Sir If'ii/lir Ralcif^-ft to Jamts I. 



IT ib one part ol" tlic oHiceof a just and 
wortliy prince to hear tiie complaints 
of liis vassals, especially such as arc in 
j^reat niiM-ry. 1 know not, amongst 
inanyotlicrpresumplious Leathered against 
inc, how your majesty halh l/cen per- 
Miadod ihatl was one ofthcinwho were 
i^rt-atly discontented, and therefore the 
more likely to pro\e disloyal. Hut the 
i;reat God so relie\c me in h<ith worlds 
as I was the contrary ; and I took as 
j;rcat comfort to hchold ytiur majesty, 
and always le;'.rned some good, and bet- 
tering my knowledge by hearing your 
niHJesty's di>coiirsc. I do most humbly 
beseech )our sovereign majesty not to 
believe any of those in my particular, 
who, under pretence of offences to kings, 
do easily work their particular revenge. 
I trust no man, under the C(dour of 
making examples, should persuade your 
majesty to leave the word mi n if ill oul ot' 
xouT style ; for it will be no hss profit to 
your majesty, and become your greatness 
than tlie word imincililc It is true, 
that the laws of England are no less 
jealous of the kings than Cif>ar was of 
Ponipey's wife ; for notv>ith5tanding she 
was cleared for having C(>mpany with 
Claudius, v^'t for being suspected he 
condemned lier. For myself, I protest 
before almiijhty God, and I speak it to 
my master and sovereign, that I never in- 
vented treason against him ; and yet I 
J;now I shall fall in inanibns eontm, a qui- 
hi/s 71011 pO!<sian (vadcrc, unless by your 
majesty's gracious compassion 1 be sus- 
tained. Our law therefore, most merci- 
ful prince, knowing her own cruelty, and 
isiiowing that she is wont to compound 
treason out of presumptions and circuin- 
stanccs doth give this charitable advice to 
the king her supreme, Non solum sapic/s 
rs^e sed tV itnsiricois. inc. (htiv tiitiris sit 
rrddax ratiuiinn niiac ncordia quarvjudicii. 
1 do, therelore, on the ki,ees of my 
]ieart beseech your majesty, from your 
own sweet and comfortable disposition, 
to remember that I have served your 
majesty twenty )cars, for which }our 
majesty hath yet given me no n v.ard : 
and it is titu i ) should be ind 'l.c*; 
my sovere}gn lv)r(i, than tiie king to his 
poor vassal bave me tUtretbre, nust 
meioiful [.nnce, that I niay owe _,(iur 
lUi.jeily my life ilsclt, thua which iheru 

cannot be a greater debt. Limit me at 
least, my -overeign lord, that I may pay 
it for your service when your majesty 
shall please. If the law destroy me, 
your miijesty shall put me out of your 
power, and I shall have none to fear but 
the King of kings. 


Sir J fuller Raleigh to Sir Robert Car. 

A FTKu many losses and many years 
sorrows, of both which I have catisc 
to fear 1 was mistaken in tlieir ends, it is 
come to my knowledge, that yoursolf 
(whom I know not but by an honourable 
hivour) hath been persuailed to give mc 
and mine my last fatal blow, by obtain- 
ing from his majesty the inheritance of 
iny children and nephews, lost in law for 
want of a word. This done, there rc- 
maiiuth nolhiufr with me but the name 
ot lito. His majesty, whom I never of- 
fended (for I hold it unnatural a:ul un- 
manlike to hate goodness'}, staid mc at 
the grave's brink : not that 1 thought his 
majesty thought me worthy of many 
deaths, and to behold mine cast out of 
the world with myself, but as a kinir that 
knoweth the poor in truth, hath received 
a promise from God that his throne shall 
be cstablished- 

And for you. Sir, seeing your fair day 
is but in tlie dawn, rninc drawn to the 
fcttJng ; your own virtues and the king's 
grace assuring you of many fortunes and 
much honour ; I beseech you begin not 
your first building upon^the ruins of the 
innocent, and let n'/t mine and their sor-. 
rows attend your (irst plantation. I have 
ever been bound to your nation, as well 
for many other graces, as for the true 
report of my trial to the kings majesty; 
against whom had I bien maiicnant, the 
hearing of my cause woi;ld not have 
changed enemies into friends, malice into 
compa:^sion, and the minds of the greatest 
nundier then preser.t into the commisera- 
tion of mine estate. Itis not the nature 
of foul treason to beget such fair pas- 
sions: miihor could it agree with the 
duty and love of faithful subjects (espe- 
cially f)f your nation) to bewail hi? over- 
throw lliat had conspired aiiuinst their 
most natural and liberal lord. I there- 
Unv. M-ust that y,ju will not be the first 
thai sh.ili i:il] Uy tnitriwht, cut down the 
tree w.tu th'- tjUJU a;;:; '-'.!.;?r,';') Uic curse 




Book ir. 

of them thuf entor the liclds v.[ tlir fa- noble nature. Exert yourself, () gene- 

thcrk'ss; which if it phase you to know rous prince, against such sycophants in 

the truth, is tar less in value than in tlu- glorious cause of liberty ; and assume 

fame. But that so worthy a gentleman such an aniibtion worthy of you, to se* 

as yourself will rather bind us to you cure your fellow creatures from slavery ; 

(being six gentlemen not base in birth f>om a condition as much below that of 

and alliance] which have interest thereir. ; 
and myselt", with my uttermost thankful- 
ness, will remain reatiy to obey your 


Sir li 'idler Raleigh to Prince Ilenrt/, So7i 
of James I. 

JNIayit please your Highness, 
rpiiE following lines arc addressed to 
J- your highness from a man who va» 
lues his liberty, and a very small fortune 
in a remote part of this island, under the 

brutes, as to act without reason is less 
miserable than to tict against it. Pre- 
serve to your future subjects the divine 
rigiit of free agents; and to your 
own royal house the divine right of being 
their benefactors. Believe ine, my 
prince, there is no other right can flow 
from God. While your highness is form- 
ing yourself for a throne, consider the 
laws as so many common places in your 
study of the science of government ; when 
you mean nothing but justice they are an 
ease and help to you. This way of 
tliinkinir is what cave men the a'orious 

present constitution, above all the riches aj)pollations of deliverers and fathers of 

and honours tjiat he could anywhere their country; this made the sight of 

enjoy under any other establishment. them rouse their beholders intoacclama- 

You see, Sir, the doctrines that are tions, and mankind incapable of bearing 

lately come into the world, and how far their very aj)pearancc, witiiout applaud- 

the phrase has obtainetl of calling your 
royal father, God's vicegerent ; which ill 
men have turned both to the dishonour of 
God, and the impeaclmient of his ma- 
jesty's goodness. They adjoin vicego- 

ing it as a benefit. Consider the inex- 
pressible advantages which will ever at- 
tend your highness, while you make the 
power of rendering men happy the mea- 
sure of your actions; while this is your 

rency to the idea of being all-powertul, impulse, how easily will that power be 
and not to that of being all-good. His extended? The glance of your eye will 
majesty's wisdom, it is to be hoped, will give gladness, aud your very sentence 
save him from the snare that m'ay lie have a force of beauty. Whatever some 
under gross adulatic^ns ; but your youth, men would insinuate you have lost your 
i.'.nd the thirst of praise which 1 have 
observed in you, may possibly mislead 
ycm to hearken to these charmers, who 
would conduct your noble nature into 
tyranny. Be careful, O my prince ! Hear 
iheni not, 'ly from their deceits ; you are 

subji'cts when you have lost their incli- 
nations. You are to preside over the 
minds, not the bodies of men ; the soul 
is the essence of the man, and you can- 
not have the true man against his incli- 
nations. C'huse therefore to be the king 
in the succession to a throne, from whence or tl^e conqueror of your people ; it may 

no evil can be imputed to you, but all 
tiood must be conveyed from you. ^Our 
lather is called tint vicegerent of heaven ; 
while he is good he is the vicegerent of 
heaven. Shall man have authority from 
the fountain of good to do evil ? No, my 
prince; let mean and degenerate spirits, 
VKhich want benevolence, suppose your 
power impaired by a disability of cloing 
injuries. If want of ])ower to do ill be 
a)i incapacity in a j)rince, with reverence 
be it spoken, it is an incapacity he has in 
»;onunoii with the'L)eiiy. Let me not 
doubt but all pleas, which i\o not carry in 
them the mutual hiipi)iiiehs of prince and 

be submission, but it cannot beobedii nee 
that is passive. 1 am. Sir, your highness's 
most faithful servant. 
London, Aug. 12, \6U. 


J .on! Bacon to Ja?)ici> I. aflLV his Disgrace. 

To the King. 

It may please your most excellent 

Tn the midst of my misery, which is 
rather assuaged by remembrance than 
people, will appear asabsurdtoyour great by hope, my chiefest worldly comfort is 
uiidci standing, as disagreeable to your, to think, that *incc ike trUie 1 Lad the 


Sect. I. 



fir:t vote of the commons house of par- 
liament for commissioner of the union, 
until the time that I was, by this last par- 
liament, cliosen by both houses for their 
messenger to your majesty in the petition 
of religion (which two were my first and 
last services), 1 was evermore so happy 
as to have my poor services graciously 
accepted by your majesty, and likewise 
not to have had any of them miscarry in 
my hands ; neither of which points I can 
any wise take to myself, but ascribe the 
former to yowr majesty's goodness, arid 
the latter to your prudent directions, 
which I was ever careful to have and 
keep. For, as I have often said to your 
majesty, I was towards you but as a 
bucket and cistern, to draw forth and 
conserve, whereas yourself was the foun- 
tain. Unto this comfort of ninetecii 
years pro^crity, there succeeded a com- 
fort even in my greatest adversity, some- 
what of the same nature, which is, that 
in those otfences wherewith I was charg- 
ed, there was not any one that had spe- 
cial relation to your majesty, or any 
your particular commandments. For as 
towards Almighty God there an- otfen- 
ces agamst the first and second table, and 
yet all against God; so with the servants 
of kings, there are oflences more immedi- 
ate against the sovereign, although all 
all oflences against law are also against 
the king. Unto which comfort there is 
added this circum^^tance, that as my 
faults were not against your majesty, 
otherwise than as all faults are ; so my 
fall was not your majesty's act, otherwise 
than as all acts of justice arc yours. 
This I write not to insinuate with your 
majesty, but as a most humble appeal U) 
your majesty's gracious remembrance, 
how honest and direct you have ever 
found me in your service, whereby I 
have an assured belief, that there is in 
your majesty's own princely thoughts, a 
great deal of serenity and clearness to- 
wards me, your majesty's now prostrate 
and cast down servant. 

Neither, my moit gracious sovereign, 
do I, by this mention of my former ser- 
vices, lay claim to your princely graces 
and bounty, though the privilege of ca- 
lamity doth bear that f jrm of petition. I 
know well, had they been much more, 
they had been but my bounden'duty ; 
nay, I must also confess, that tliey were 
from time to time, far above my merit, 
over aiid super-rewarded by your ma- 

jesty's benefits, which you heaped upon 
me. Your majesty was and is that master 
to me, that raised and advanced me nine 
times, thrice in dignity, and six times in 
orticcs. The places were indeed the 
paini'ullest of all your services; but then 
they had both honour and profits ; and 
the then profits might have maintained 
my now honours, if 1 had been wise ; 
neither was your majesty's immediate 
liberality wanting towards me in some 
gifts if 1 may hold them. All this I do 
most thank I'ully acknowledge, and do 
herewith conclude, that for any thing 
arising from myself to move your eye of 
pity towards me, there is much more in 
my present misery than in my past ser- 
vices ; save that the same, your majes- 
ty's goodness that may give relief to the 
one, may give value to the other. 

And, indeed, if it may please your ma- 
jesty, this theme of ray misery is so 
plentiful, as it need not be coupled with 
any thing else. I have been somebody 
by your majesty's singular and unde- 
served favour, even the prime officer of 
jour kingdom. Your majesty's arm 
hath often been laid over mine in coun- 
cil, when you presided at the table ; so 
near was I ! I have borne your majesty's 
image in metal, much more in my heart. 
I was never, in nineteen years service, 
chidden by your majesty; but, contrari- 
wise, often overjoyed when your majesty 
would sometimes say, I was a good hus- 
band for you, though none for myself; 
sometimes, that I had a way to deal in 
business .'niacwiis modi's, w^hich was the 
way which was most according to your 
own heart *, and other most gracious 
speeches, of aftections and trust, which I 
feed on to this day. But why should I 
speak of these things, which are now 
vanished ? But only the better to ex- 
press my downfal. 

For now it is thus with mc : I am a 
year and a half* old in misery ; though 
I must ever acknowledge, not without 
some mixture of your majesty's grace 
and mercy. For 1 do not think it possi- 
ble that any one, whom you once loved, 
should be totally miserable. iMine own 
means, through my own improvidence, 
are poor and weak, little better than my 
father left me. The poor things that I 
have had from your majesty are either in 

* Therefors this was vnult near the middle 
of the year i6z2, 

M question 


!• L E G A N T i: P I 8 T L E S. 

Book II, 

question or at cnurtesv. My clii:;niiics 
remain marks uf your past favour, but 
burdens of my probcnt fortune. The 
poor rcinnanis wliich 1 IkkI of my U<rMicr 
lortunes in plate or jewels, I have spread 
upon poor men unto whom I uwcd, scarce 
lea\in<i myself a ennvenient siilisi>ienee ; 
so as to conclude, I must pour out my 
misery before your majesty so far as to 
say, Si tu ih/trii, jHrinius, 

But as 1 can offer to your majesty's 
compassion little arising from myself to 
move yx)U, except it be my extreme 
misery, which 1 have truly opened : so 
looking up to your majesty's own self, I 
should think I committed Cain's fault, if 
I should despair. Your majesty is akir.g 
whose heart is as unscrutablo for secreS 
motions of goodness, as for dt pth of 
wisdom. Your are creator-like, factive, 
not destructive : you arc the prince iu 
whom hath ever been noted an aversion 
acajnst any thing that favoured of an 
hard heart; as on the other side, your 
princely eye was wont to meet >Aith any 
motion that was made on the ielicvini; 
part. Therefore, as one that hath had 
the happiness to know your majesty near- 
hand, I have, most gracious sovereign, 
faith enough for a miracle, and much 
more for a grace, that your majesty will 
not suffer your poor creature to be ut- 
terly defaced, nor blot the name (juiic 
out of your book, upon which your sa- 
cred hand hath been so oft for the giving 
him new ornaments and additions. 

Unto this degree of compassioji, I hope 
God (of whose mercy towards me, both 
in my prosperity and adversity, I have 
had great testimonies and pledges, tho' 
mine own n)anifold and wntched wn-^ 
thankfulness might have averted them) 
will dispose your princely hrart, already 
prepared to all piety you shall do for 
me*. And as all commiserable persons 
(especially such as find their hearts void 
of all malice) are apt to think that all 
men pity them, so I assure myself that 
the lords of your council, who, out of 
their wisdom and nobleness, cannot but 
be sensible of human events, will in this 
way which I go for the relief of my (s- 
late, furtiier and advance your majesty's 
goodness towards me; for there is, as I 
conceive a kind of fraternity between 
l^reat men that are, and those that have 
keen, being but the several tenses of one 

• Vouchsafe to express towards me. 

verb. Nay, I do farther presume, that 
both houses of parliament will love their 
justice the better, if it end not in my 
rtiin : for I have been oficn told by 
many of my lords, as it were in the way 
of excusing the severity of the sentence, 
that they knew they left me in good 
hands. Ami yonr majosty kiwweth well 
I have been all n)y lite long acceptable 
to those assemblies: not by liatti-ry, but 
by mod«'ration, and by honest express- 
ing of a desire to have all things go 
fairly and well. 

But if it may please your majesty (for 
saints J shall give them reverence, but no 
adoration ; my address is to your majesty, 
the fountain of goodness) your majesty 
shall, by the grace of God, not feel thaL 
in gift which I shall extremely feel ia 
help; for my desires are mo4eratc, and 
my courses measured to a life orderly 
and reserved, hoping still to doyour ma- 
jesty honour in my way; only I most 
humblv beseech your majesty to give me 
leave to conclude v.ith these words, 
wliicli necessity speaketh : Help me, dear 
sovereign, lord and master, and pity so 
far, as iliat I, that have borne a bag, be 
)iot now in iTry age, forced in etlect to 
bear a wallet; nor that I, that desire to 
live to study, may not be driven to study 
to live. I most humbly crave pardon of 
a long letter after a long silence. God 
of heavc^ ever bless, preserve, and pros- 
per your majesty. Your majesty's poor 
ancient servant and bedsman. 


Lord Ballimorcto Lord U'ait'dorth.,aftcT-^ 
uards Earl of Sfrajf'urd. 


My Lord, 
•ERE not my occasions such as ne- 
cessarily keep me here at this time, 
I would not seTnl U-tters, but lly to you 
ni^self with all the speed I could, to ex- 
]ness my own grief, and to take part of 
yours, which Ikn«)H is exceedingly great, 
for the loss of so noble a lady, stj vir- 
tuous and so loving a wife. There arc; 
few, perhaps, can judge of it better tlian 
I, who have been a long time myself a 
man of surrowsv But all things, my 
lord, in this world passaway i'^a/w/wme-iv/, 
wife, children, honour, weakh, friends,, 
and what else is dear to flesh and blood ; 
they arc but lent us till God to 


Sect. I. 



call for them back again, that we may 
nut cstocni any tiling our own, or set our 
hearts iipnn any thing but him alone, 
who only remains for ever. 1 bcjicich 
his almighty goodness to grant, that 
your lordshipiaay, for his sake, bear tliis 
great cross with motkness and palit-nce, 
whose ciily son our dear Lord and Sa- 
viour, bore a L'reater for you ; and to 
consider that these humiliations, though 
they be very bitter, yet are they so\creign 
medicines ministered unto us by our hea- 
venly physician to cure tiie sicknesses of 
our souls, if the fnult be not ours. Good 
my lord, bear with this excess of zeal 
in a friend whose great affection to you 
transports him to dwell longer upon this 
melancholy theme that is needful to 
\our lordship, whose own wisdom, as- 
sisted with God's grace, I hope, sujigests 
unto you these and better resolutions 
than I can offer unto your remembrance. 
All I have to say more is but this, that I 
humbly and heartily pray for you to dis- 
pose of yourself and your atiairs (the 
rites being done to the noble creature) 
as to be able to remove, as soon as con- 
veniently you may, from those parts, 
where so many things I'cprcsent them- 
selves unto you, as to make your wound 
bleed afresh ; and let us have you here, 
where the gracious welcome of your 
master, the conversation of your friends, 
and variety of businesses, may divert your 
thoughts the sooner from sad (objects; the 
continuance whereof will but endanger 
your health, on which depends the wel- 
fare of your children, thecomfort of your 
friends, and many other good tilings, fur 
whicii I hope G(<d will reserve you, to 
whose divine favour I humbly recommend 
you, and remain ever your lordship's 
most affectionate and taitliful servant. 
From my lodging in Lincoius- 
Inn-Fields,"Oct. 11, lOol. 


Lord Wentxcorth^Lord Deputy of Ireland, 
to tht Earl of Portland f Lord Treasurer 
to Charles /. 

May it please your Lordship, 
QINCC I had the honour to serve his 
*- majesty, calumny and miireport have 
been my portions, which, for the most 
part, were passed over in silence and dis- 
dain ; but when they dare attempt your 
lorddhip to my prejudice, then 1 confess 
they touch very uearly, considering that 

if I commit any wilful crime here, where 
I have received, and to whom I profess 
so much, I must tven acknowledize my- 
self incapable any longer of trust ur 
friendship amongst men. 

Pardon me, therefore, I beseech your 
lordship, if 1 be as far from digesting 
this wrong, as Ishall be ever found i.Tiio- 
cent from this guilt. 

I understand some shameless person or 
other hath insinuated with your lordship 
as if I went about to be treasurer, and 
lays for a ground of that opinion my for- 
wardness in his majesty's service. This 
I have cursorily and slightly in a letter 
from my cousin Wandesford ; but with, 
me it imprints, sinks, strikes deeper thaix 
to pass along so easily from me. Lord ! 
with what shadows would they have 
overcast my neglig«>nce, with whjit dark- 
ness have benighted the least commission, 
that can fetch this conclusion out of 
those premises ? 

I will not deny, it is a full truth in- 
deed, that there inhabits with me an in- 
limtc zeal and vigilance to serve my 
master, the most accepted w ay 1 can de- 
vise; nor shall any private ease or jn-olit 
cool or lessen it, or any endeavour from 
abroad make me understand it as a fault 
to do so : yet, my lord, 1 do not greedily 
serve to repair a broken fortune, much 
less out of any ambitious desires, which 
(if any ever in me) were long agone lard 
to rest upon my receiving this place fruni 
his majesty, through the means of my 
friends, I confess (being then altogether 
a stranger to the kins' in service and per- 
son), and of them your lordship the very 

No, no, mv lord, they arc those s'ove- 
rcign and great duties lov>e his majesty 
and your lordship, which thus pr^-voke 
me beyond my own nature, rather to 
leave those cooler shades, wherein I 
took choicest pleasure, and thus put 
myself with you into the heat of the day, 
than poorly and mearily to start aside 
from my obligations, convinced in my- 
self of the most wretched ingratitude in 
the whole world. 

God knows how little delight I take in 
the outwards of this life, how infinitely 
ill satisfied 1 am with myself, to find 
daily those cahn and quiet retirements", 
wherein to contemplate some things more 
divine and sacred than this world can 
afford us, at: every moment interrupted 
tbroui;h the importunity cf the affairs \ 
' M 2 havj» 



Book II. 

have already. To hcuvcn and laith I 
protest it, it grieves my vny mi\i1, and 
timt is notiiini; but love (il 1 may hi- 
iulmitted a vord ot' so Dear a, 
and of so little u courtship) to tlie p; r- 
^uns ol" his niajcbty and youistif, tlwit 
could make nio take up this yoke and 
f(>llow ; no otlier afieCtiidi ui pasbi> ii 
coiiid eftcct it. 

Si), my lord, once for all, lot jue (inii 
belief with you; if I obtaiii it nol ivoin 
}ou with the c,rca test serenenc^s possible 
(pardon me for saying so), yoxi do that 
fricndi>hip and cuntidcncc. which ought 
ro pass between men of honour, iniiniic 
^vrong, and render yourself the luobt in- 
excusable man towards inc that lives. 

Let shame and confusion thi n cover 
me, if I do not abhor the intolerable 
anxiety I well understand to wait inse- 
parably upon that sialf, if 1 should not 
Take a serpent as soon into my bosom, 
and, if 1 once lind so mean a tiiought of 
me can enter into your heart, as that to 
compass whalcvi r I could take most de- 
light in, I should go about bcguilefully 
to supplant any ordinary man (how much 
more then nnpotently to catch at such a 
slatf and from my lord treasurer), if I 
leave not the court instantly, betake my- 
self to my private ffU'tuno, re|>osedly seek 
my contentment and quiet within my 
own doors, and follow the dictamcn <if 
my own reason and conscience, more 
according to nature and liberty, than in 
those gyves which nov.- p.inch and hang 
upon me. 

Thus you see how easily you may be 
rid of me when you list, and in good 
faith with a thousand thanks ; 3-et be 
pleased not to judge, this proceeds out of 
any wayward weary humour in me nei- 
ther; for my endeavours are as vigorous 
and as cheerful to serve the crown and 
yon, as ever they Averc, nor shall you 
ever tind them to faint or fiaskuer. 1 am 
none of those sofl-tempi-red spirits ; but 
I cannot endure to be mistaken, orsulUr 
mypuriT and moreintinr atfectior.sto be 
soiled, or in the least degree prejudiced, 
Avith the loathsome and odious attributes 
of covetousness and ambitious falseliO(;d. 
Do me but right in this, judge my 
Tvatches to issue (as in faith they do) 
from those clearer cisterns 1 lay my 
hand under your foot, I despise danger, I 
laugh at labour. Command me in all 
♦iifficuiiies. in all conridcnc;-, in all readi- 

ness, your Lordship's ever most faithful 
friend, and most humble servant. 
York, this L'lst of October 10'32. 

I, E'l'TF, R lAT. 


Lord l!'nifnurt/i tu Sir IVilliani Saiillc. 

Mv dear Nephew, 
T shall be much contentment unto me 

when the power or means 1 have may 
communicate any thing which may be 
of acceptation with you : and now that 
it hath pleased God to take from }ou 
your mother, I hold myself moi^.- bound 
to pri-serve a care fer you, being sorry 
that my nmotmess renders me of less 
use unto you now upon your entrance 
into the world, than perchance other- 
wise I might have beeii. 

It is true, that it is not my custom to 
put myself into counsels uncalled, and 
having been a minister in the troublesome 
seitltinent of your estate, methought it 
iiiight have stood well enough with ci- 
vility and discr' tion to have let me been 
acfiuuinfed with the course of your new 
conveyanc's, when you and I were both 
at London last ; beingso made a stranger 
to that end, the effecting and accomplish- 
ing V hereof I had so painfully endea- 
voured lor so HI liny years together.— 
Surely neithi'r 1 nor mine should have 
been u penny better by it ; for I must 
tell you, for all the service I have done 
you and your house, I never had the 
worth of a groat forth of your purse, or 
the purse of your mother, and, whicli 
is more, never will ; for 1 trust, by God's 
blessing, to leave my child an estate able 
to maintain him as a gentleman, with- 
out being burlLcnsomc to any. 

And iiuleed, if I did not conceivp this 
neglect was rather the good-will of 
Cookson than any formal direction of 
your own, 1 should resolve to perforin 
my own duly towards the nearness of 
that blood whieh runs in our veins, with- 
out ever desiring to intermeddle at all in 
your counsels for the government of your- 
self and fortune ; but indeed your years 
slu w me, you were all discretion to be 
merely passive in that action, and no 
doubt having my Lord Keeper's advice 
therein, all is well and orderly disposed 
and executed. 

Admit me then, in consideration and 
remembrance of your nuble father, and 
that 1 may say to lay own iicari I have 


^Sect. I, 


1 r - 

not betrayed the trust lu* was pleased to 
repose in me, to deliver you my opinion, 
how you arc fiiturely to dispose yourself 
and lortuue; which, as it shall come 
Jrom me with all the candour in the 
world, so dotii it also with all the indif- 
fercncy possible ; desiring God Almighty 
that you may not follow one word of 
advice of mine, where there is a lKtl<T 
for you to govern yourself after. 

Being then up(>n that period of life, 
that as you set forth now at first, you will 
in all likelihood continue so to the end, 
be it you take the paths of virtue or the 
contrary, you cannot consider yourself 
and adviije and debate your actions with 
your friends too much ; and till such time 
as experience hath ripened your judg- 
ment, it shall be great wisdom and atl- 
vantagc to distrust yourself, and to for- 
tify your youth by the counsel of your 
more aged friends, before you undertake 
any thing of consequence. It was the 
course that I governed nn srlf by after my 
father's death, with great advantage to 
myself and affairs: and yet my breeding 
abroad hath shewn me more of the world 
than yours hath done, and I had natural 
reason like other men, only I confess I 
did in all things distrust myself; wherein 
you shall do, us I said, extremely well if 
yOii do so too. 

I conceive you should lay aside all 
thoughts (;f going to Londoi> these four 
or five years; live in your own house; 
order and understand your own estate ; 
inform and employ yourself in the affairs 
of the country; carry yourself respec- 
tively and kindly towards your n( igh- 
bours: desire the company of such as 
are well governed and discreet an;ungst 
them, and make them as much as you 
can your friends; in country business 
Ivceping your-elf fn^m all faction ; and at 
thi- iirst bi' not too positive, or take too 
much upon you, till you fully understand 
the course of proceedings ; for, have but 
a little patience, and the command and 
government of that part of the country 
will infallibly fall into your hands, with 
honour to yourself, and contentment to 
others ; whereas if you catch at it too 
soon, it will be but a means to publish 
your want of understandinijand modesty, 
and that you shall grow cheap a;id in 
contempt before them that shall see you 
undertake that, where you are not able 
\.o guide yourself in your own way. 

Be sure to moderate your expence, so 

as it may be without foolish waste or 
mean savings; take your own accompts 
and betimes inure yourself to exumi:ie 
how your (*lutepn)Si)crs, where it sutlers, 
or w liere it is to be improved ; otherwise 
there will sxich an easiness and neglect 
gather upon you, as it may be you will 
never patiently endure the labour of it 
whilst you live: and so as much as in 
you lies, cast from you that which, 
tends most to the preservation of your 
fortune of any other thing; for I am 
persuaded few men that understood their 
expence ever wasted ; and few that do 
not e\er well governed their estate. 

Considering that your houses, in my 
judgment, are not suitable to your qua- 
lit\ , nor yet your place and furniture, I 
conceive yoijr expence ought to be re- 
duced to tv.'o thirds of your estate, the 
rest saved to the accommodating of you 
in that kind : those things provided, you 
may, if you sec cause, enlarge yourself 
the more. 

In these and all things else, you shall 
do passing well to consult ]Mr. Green- 
wood, who hath seen much, is very well 
able to judge, and certainly most faith- 
lul to you. If you use him not most 
respecttuUy, you deal extreme ungrateful 
with him, and ill for yourself. He was 
llie man your father loved and trusted 
above all men, and did as faithfully dis- 
charge the trust reposed in him, as ever 
in my time I knew^ any man do for his 
dead friend ; taking excessive pains in 
settling your estate with all possible 
cheerfulness, without charge to you at 
all : his advice will be always upright, 
and vou may safely pour your secrets 
into liiiii, which by that time you have 
conv ised a little more abroad in the 
world, you will find to be the greatest 
and noblest treasiire this world can 
make any man owner of ; and I protest 
to God, were I in your place, I woidd 
think him the greatest and best riches I 
did or could possess. 

In apy case, think not of putting your- 
self into court before you be thirty years 
of age at least ; till your judgment be so 
awakened as that you may be able to 
discover and put aside such trains as will 
always infallibly be there laid for men of 
great fortunes by a company of ilesh- 
thes, that ever buz up and down the pa- 
laces of princes : and this, let ine tell you, 
I have seen many men of great estates 
come young thither and spend all, bi t 
M 3 dui 



Book II. 

did I never see a good estate prosper 
amongst them iluit put itseUforwua! be- 
fore the master hiul an experience and 
knowledge how to husband and keep it: 
I having observed that the errors of 
young gallants in tliat kind ever proved 
fatal and irremedikss, be their wits or 
providence never so great in playing 
their alii r-gamcs, one only excepted ; 
and how it may yet prove with him, C'od 

For your servants, Bcitherubc them so 
familiarly as to lose your reverence at 
their hands, nor so disdainfully as to pur- 
chase youi-selt their ill-will; but carry it 
in an equal temper towards them, both 
in punishments and rewards. For Cook- 
son, I hold him a churlish proud-naturcd 
companion, but withal honest, and I am 
persuaded will be a good servant; if you 
keep him from drink, much better. 
Howbeit, you shall do well to take his 
accompts orderly and weekly, taking to 
you Mr. Greenwood to help you till you 
have gained the skill yourself. 

You are left as weak in friends as any 
gentleman ever I knew of your quality ; 
but how much more careful ought you 
then to be to oblige men by your respec- 
tive courteous usage towanls them, and 
provident circumspection towards your- 
self? You are, as I have observed, rash 
and hasty, apt to fall to censure others, 
and ex< rcise your wit upon thim: take 
heed of it, it is a quality of great offence 
to others, and danger towards a man's 
self: and that jeering, jesting demeanour 
is not to be used but where a man hath 
great interest in the person, and knows 
himself to be understood to love and 
respect him truly ; with such a one, if 
the man be sad and wise to take and re- 
turn it the right way, a man may be 
sonictimes bold, but otherwise never. 

Let 110 company or respect ever draw 
you to excess in drink, for be you well 
assured that if that ever possess you, you 
ure instantly drijnk to all honour and em- 
ployment in the state ; drunk to all the 
respects your friends v. ill otlurwise pay 
you, and shall by unequal staggering 
paces go to your grave with confusion of 
face, as well in them that love you, as 
in yourself; and therefore ul)hor all com- 
pany that might entice you that way. 

Spend not too much time, nor venture 
too much money at gaming; it is a arcat 
vanity that possesseth some men, and in 
H)ost is occasioned by a greedy mind of 

■winning, which is a pursuit not becom- 
ing a generous noble heart, which will 
not brook such starving consideration^ 
as those. 

In a word, guide yourself in all things 
in the paths of goodness and virtue, and 
so persevere therein, that you may thence 
take out those rules, which being learnt, 
ma}' (when it comes to your turn) as 
well grace and enable you to lead and 
govern others, as (whilst you are learn- 
ing of them) it wiU become you to fol- 
low and obey others ; and thus shall 
you possess your youth in modesty, and 
your elder years in wisdom. 

God Almighty prosper and bless you, 
in your person, in your lady, in your 
children, and in your estate, wherein no 
friend you have shall take more content- 
ment than your most affectionate uncle 
and most faithful friend. 
Dublin Castle, this QQth of Decembcrj 

Lord Waitworth to Archbishop Laud, 

May it please your Grace, 
JAM goitcn hither to a poor house, I 
J- have, having been this last week almost 
feasted to death at York. In truth, for 
any thing I can find, they were not ill 
pleased to see me. Sure I am, it much 
contented me to be amongst my old ac- 
quaintance, which I would not leave for 
any other affection I have, but to that 
which 1 both profess and owe to the per- 
son of his sacred Majesty. Lord ! with 
with what (juietncss in myself could I live 
in comparison of that noise and labour I 
met with elsewhere ; and I protest put 
up more crowns in my purse at the year's 
end too. lUit we'll let that pass. For I 
am not like to enjoy that blessed condii 
tion upon earth. And therefore my reso- 
lution is set, to endure and struggle with 
it so long as this crazy body will bear it ; 
and finally drop into the silent grave, 
where l)orh all these (which I now could, 
as I tiiiiik, innocently delight myself in) 
and myself are to be forgotten ; and fare 
them well. I persuade myself c.ti/i'o /fpir/o 
I am able to lay them down very cpiietly, 
and yet leave behind me, as a truth not 
to be forgotten, a perfect and full re- 
membrance of my being your Grace's 
most humbly to be commanded. 

Gawthorp, the 17th of Aug. iCsG, 

^ect, I. 



Charles I. to Lord jytntworth. 

/•CERTAINLY I shoulcl be ijiuch to 
^'' blame not toa(l;i)it so i^ood a servant 
?s you are to speak with me, since 1 deny 
it to none that there is not a just e.xce])- 
lion a^qinst; yet I must freely tell you, 
that the cause of this desire of yours, if 
it be known, will rather hearten than 
discourage your enemies ; for, if they c:in 
once find that you apprehend the dark 
;A'tting of a storm, when I say no, thcv 
\vill make you leave to carjC for any thing 
in a short while but for your fears. And, 
believe it, the marks of my favours that 
stop malicious tongues are neither placeg 
nor titles, but the litie I give to 
accusers, and tiie willing ear 1 give to 
my servants ; this is, not to disparage 
those favours (for eijvy flies most at the 
fairest mark), but to shew their use; to 
vit, not to quell envy, but to reward ser- 
vice; it being truly so, when the master 
without the servant's importunity does 
it ; otherwise men judge it more to pro- 
ceed from the servant's wit, than the 
master's favour. 1 uill end with a rule, 
that may serve for a statesman, a cour- 
tier, or a lover: never make a defence or 
npology before you be accused. And so 
1 rest your assured friend. 
Lindhurst, Od Sept. l6"3(J. 

for my Lord Marshal, as you nave 
armed me, so 1 warrant you. 

Charh-;- I. tu the Earl of StnuffuriL 

St ratio rd, 

Tii E misfortune that is fallen upon 
you by the strangp mistaking and 
conjvmcture of these times being sucli, 
that 1 mi'.st lay bv the t[inuijht of employ- 
ing you hereafter in my afi'airs ; yet I 
cannr)t satisfy nivseU" in honour or cun- 
scienct", without assuringyou (now in tha 
midst of your troubles) that, upon the 
word of a King, you shall not sutler in 
life, honour, or lurtnne. This is but 
justice, and therefore a verv mean reward 
from a master to so faithful and able a 
servant as you have shewed yourself to 
\c ; yet it is as much as 1 conceive the 


present Umes will permit, though none 
shall hinder mc from being your con- 
s.tant faithful friend. 

Whitehall, April 23, iGil. 

Earl of StrajTwd to hig Son. 

My dearest Will, 

rpHESE are the last lines that you are to 
J- receive froji> a father that teiiderly 
loyes you. I wish there were a gri-atcr 
leisure to impartmy mind unto you ; but 
our merciful God will supply all things 
by his grace, and guide and protect you 
iii all \ our ways : to whoic inrinite good- 
ness 1 bequeath you ; and therefore be 
not discouraged, but serve him, and trust 
in him, and he will preserve and pros- 
per you in all things. 

Be sure you giv/e all respect to my 
wife, that hath ever bad a great love 
unto you, and therefore will be well be- 
coming you. Jij'ever be wanting in your 
love and care to your sisters, but let ihem 
ever be most dear unto you ; for this will 
give others cause to esteem and respect 
voU for it, and is a duty that you owe 
them in the memory of your excellent 
mother and my-self ; therefore your care 
and aflcction to them must be the very 
same that you are to have of yoyrsplf ; 
and the like regard must you have to 
your youngest si^iter; for indeed you 
owe it to her also, both for her father 
and niother's s^ike. 

Swci t Will, be careful to take the ad- 
vice of those friends wliich arc by me de- 
sind to advise you for your edijcafion, 
berve God diligently niornlng and cven- 
ii>g, and rccomruend yourself unto him, 
and ha\e him btfore your eyes in all 
your v.ays. With patience hear the in- 
structions of those friends I leave with 
you, and diligently follow thiir dt.unsel; 
for, till you come by time to hfivc «."«- 
perience in the world, it will be fiirmore 
safe to trust to their judgments than vou? 

Lose not the time of your youth, but 
gather those seeds of virtue and know- 
ledge which may be of use i*; yourself, 
aiid comfort to your friends, for the rest 
of your life. And that thjs may be the 
belter effected, attend thereunto with pa- 
tience, and be sure to correct and refrain 
yourself fn;m anger. Sutler not sorrow 
IM i to 



Book U. 

to cast yoii down, but with cheerfulness 
and good courage go on the race you 
ha\e to run in all sobriety and truth. Be 
sure with an hallowed care to have n.-- 
spect to all the commandmi-ntb of God, 
and give not yourself to nogloct them in 
the least things, lest hy degrees you come 
to forget thoni in the greatest ; for the 
heart of man is deceitful above all 
things. And in all your duties and de- 
votions towards God, rulhcr perform 
them joyfully than pensively , for God 
loves a cheerful givir. For your reli- 
gion, let it be directed according to 
that which shall be taught by those 
which are in God's church the proper 
teachers therefore, rather than that you 
ever cither fancy one to yourself, or be 
led by men that are singular in their own 
opinions, and delight to go ways of their 
own iinding out ; for you will certainly 
find soberness and truth in the one, and 
much unsteadiness and vanityin the other. 

The king I trust will deal graciously 
with you, restore you those honours and 
that fortune which a distempered time 
hath deprived you of, together with die 
life of your father: which I rather ad- 
vise might be by a new gift and creation 
Irom himself, than by any other means, 
to the end you may pay the thanks to 
him without having obligation to any 

Be sure you avoid as much as you can 
to inquire after those that have been sharp 
in their judgments towards rr;e, and I 
charge you never to sufier thought of re- 
venge to enter your heart, but bi' careful 
to be informed who were my friends in 
tliis prosecution, and to them apply your- 
self to make them your friendsulso ; and 
on such you may rely, and bestow jnuch 
of your conversation amongst them. 

And God Almighty of his infinite 
goodneco bless you and your children's 
children'; and liis same goodness bless 
your sisters in like manner, perfect you 
in every good work, and give you risiht 
understandings in all thmgs. Amen. 
Your most loving father. 

Tower, this llth of May, ]6'41. 

You must not fail to behave yourself 
towards my Lady Clare, your gi-andmo- 
ther, with all duty and observance; for 
most tenderly doth she love you, and 
hath been .passing kind unto me: God 
.reward her. charity for it. And both in 
this and all the rest, the same th«t J 

counsel you, the same do I direct also 
to your sisters, that so the same may be 
observed by you all. And once more 
do 1, from my very soul, beseech our 
gracious God to bhss and govern you in 
all, to the saving you in the day of his 
vi5itation, and ynn us again in the com- 
munion of his blessed saints, where is 
fullness of joy and bliss for evermore. 
Amen, Amen. 


James Eml of Dirhj/, to Cojiunissari/ Ge- 
neral litton, in answer to the summons 
sent the Earl to deliver zip the Isle of 



HAVE received your letter with in- 
dignation, and with scorn return you 
this answer: That I cannot buL wonder 
whence you should gather any hopes that 
I should prove, like you, treacherous to 
my sovereign ; since you cannot be ig- 
norant of the manifest candour of my 
former actings in his late Majesty's ser- 
vice, from which principles of loyalty I 
am no whit departed. I scorn your 
proft'er; I disdain your favour ; I abhor 
your reason ; and am so far from deli- 
\ering up this island to your advantage, 
thai I shall keep it to the utmost of my 
power, and, I hope, to your destruction. 
Take this for your final answer, and for- 
bear any further solicitations ; for if you 
trouble me with any more messages of 
this nature, I will burn your paper, and 
hang up your messenger. This is the 
immutable resolution, and shall be the 
undoubted practiceof him who accounts 
it his chiefest glory to be his Majesty's 
most loyal obedient subject. 

From Castle-Town, this 12th July, 


Char Us JI. to the Duhe of Vvr/i. 

Dear Brother, 

HAVE received yours without a date 
in which you mention that Mr. Mon- 
tague has endeavoured to pervert you in 
your religion. I do not doubt but you 
remember very well the commands] left 
\\itli you at my going away concerning 
that point, and am confident you will ob- 
serve them. Yet the letters that come 
from Paris say, that it is the Queen's 



Sect. I. 



purpose to do all she can to cliunge your 
ivjigion, which, if you hearken to her, 
or any body else in tliat matter, you 
must never think to see England or me 
again ; and whatsoever mischief sliall fall 
on me or my at^'uirs from jliis time, I 
must lay all upon you as being the only 
cause of it. Theretore consider will 
what it is, not only to be the cause of 
ruining a brother that loves you so well, 
i.ut also of your king and country. Do 
not let them persuade you either by force 
or fair promises; for the tirst they nei- 
ther dare nor will use; and for the se- 
cond, as soon as they have pt-rverted you, 
they will have their end, and will care no 
more for you. 

I am also informed, that there is a 
purport to put you in the Jesuits' col- 
lege, which I command you upon the 
same grounds never to consent unto. 
And whensoever any body shall go to dis- 
pute with you in religion, do not an- 
swer them at all ; for though you have 
the reason on your side, yet they being 
prepared will have the advantage of any 
body that is not upon the same security 
that they are. If you do tiot consider 
what I say to you, remember the last 
words of your' dead father, which were, 
to be constant to your religion, and 
never to be shaken in it; which if you do 
not observe, this shall be the last time 
you will ever hear from, dear brother, 
your most affectionate brothyr. 

Cologne, Nov. 10, 1654. 


Oliver Cromuell to his Sun H. Cronniell. 

T Have seen your letter written unto 
-*- Mr. Secretary Thurloe, and do find 
thereby that you are very apprehensive 
of the carriage of some persons with you 
towards yourself and the public affairs. 
I do believe there may be some particular 
persons who are not very well pleased 
with the present condition of things, and 
may be apt to shew their tlisconteni as 
they have opportunity; but thi« should 
not make too great impressions on you. 
Tij;;]c and patience may work them to a 
b^'tter frarat' of spirit, and biing tiiem to 
see that which for the present seems to 
be hid frotii them : especially if they shall 
see your moderation and l.)ve towards 
them, whilst they are found in othtr ways 

towards you: which I earnestly dfsire 
you to study and endeavour all that lies 
in you, whereof both you and I too shall 
have the C(>mfort, whatsoever the issue 
and event thereof be. 

For what you write of more help, I 
have long endea/ourod it, and shall not 
be wanting to send you some further ad- 
dition to the council as soon as men can 
be found out who are fit for that trust. I 
am also thinking of sending over to you 
a lit person, who may ct^mmand the 
noith of Ireland, which I bdie\e stands 
in great n/cd ofone, andam of your opi- 
nion, that Trevor and Colonel JNIervin 
are very dangerous persons, and may be 
made the heads of a new rebellion ; and 
therefore I wo»ld have you move the 
council, that tliey be secured in some very 
safe place, and the farther out of their 
own countries the better. I commend 
you to the Lord, and rest your ati'ec- 
tionate father. 

21 Nov, 10'55. 


Laclj/ Man/ Cromxidl to Henry CrominU, 

Dear Brother, 

''OUR kind letters do so much engage 
my heart towards you, that 1 can 
never tell how to express in writing the 
true aflection and value I have of you, 
who truly I think none that knows you 
but you may justly claim it from. 1 must 
confess myself in a great fault in the 
omitting of writing to you and your dear 
wife so long a time: but I suppose you 
cannot be ignorant of tlie reason, which 
truly has bi'en the only cause, whicii is 
this business of my sister Frances and iMr. 
Rich. I'ruly I can truly say it, for these 
three months I think our family, and my- 
self in particular, have beenin thi-grpatisi 
confusion and trouble as ever p(K)r iar.iily 
can be in : the Lord tell us his * * ' •■'' in 
it, and settle us, a!)d m«ke us v,h:.t he 
would have its to be. I supp(<;-e yoti 
heard of the breaking off the buMaess, 
and according to your desire in y' ur laht 
letter, as well as I can, 1 shail eive you 
a full account of it, which is this: .After 
a quarter of a year's admi->5ion>, my fa- 
tlicr and m.y Lord Warwick b'gan to 
treat about the estate, and it seems my 
U id did not oti'er that that my father ex- 
pected. I need not name particulars, for 
I suppose you may have had it from bet- 
ter hxnds; but if I niiiy say the trntli, T 





Book U. 

think it was not so much estate as seme 
private reason?, that my father discovered 
to none but my sister Frances, and hib own 
family, which was a dislike to the young 
jierson, wliich he liad from some reports 
of his bi'in2 a vicious man, given to play 
and such like things; which office was 
done by some that had a mind to hrcnk 
off the. match. My sister, healing these 
things, was resolved to know tlie truth 
of it, and truly did tind all the reports to 
be false that were raised of him; and to 
tell you the truth, they were so much on- 
gaged in affection before this, that she 
could not think of breaking of it off; so 
^hat my sister engaged mc, and all t!ic 
friends she had, who truly were very few, 
to speak inher behalf to my father; which 
we did, but could not be heard to any 
purpose; only this my father promised, 
that if he were satisfied as to the report, 
the estate should not break it off, which 
she was satisfied with : but after this there 
was a second treaty, and my Lord \V;ir- 
xi'ick desired my father to name what it 
was he demanded more, and to his ut- 
most he would satisfy him ; so my fatlier 
upon this made new propositions, which 
my Lord Warwick has answered as much 
as he can; but it seems there is five 
hundred pounds a year in my Lord Ilich's 
hands which lie has power to sol), and 
there are some people that persuaded lier 
Highness, that it would be dishonourable 
for hiin to conclude of it without these 
five hundred pounds a year be settled 
upon ;Mr. Rich alter his fathers death, 
and my Lord Rich having no esteem at 
all of his son, because he is not as bad as 
himself, will not agree to it ; and these 
people upon this persuade my father, it 
v.ould i)r a dishonour to him to yield 
upon th( Si- terms; it would shew, that he 
was made a fool on by my Lord Rich ; 
which the trutii is, how it should he, I 
cannot understand, nor very few else; 
and truly J must t* II you privately, that 
they are so far engaged as the match 
cannot be broke off. She acquainted 
none of her friends with her resolution 
when she did it. Dear brother, this is 
as far as I can tell the state of the busi- 
ness. The Lord direct them what to do; 
and all I think ought to beg of Crod to 
pardon her in her doing of this thing, 
which I must say truly, she was put upon 
by the * » * * of 'things. Dear, h.t 
me beg my excuses to my sister for not 
writing my best respects to her. Pardon 

this trouble, and believe me, that I shall 
ever strive to approve myself, dear bro- 
ther, your atTectionate sister and servant. 
June i?3, lO'jtf. 

L E r T L R LXV. . 
ITt-nrif Cromzccll to Lord Faulconberg. 

My Lord, Sept. 8, l6S$. 

A LXJiouoH the la'^t letters brought a 
-^* very sad memento of mortality, yet I 
w.-'s not well enou-h prepared to receive 
yours by tliis post, without (it may be) 
too much consternation, 1 know the 
highest griefs arising from my tiatural af- 
fection to my dear father ought so far to 
give way, as to let rae remember my pre- 
sent station ; but I see more of this kind 
than I am able to practise ; and truly 
when I recollect myself, and consider the 
desperate distractions which so nearly 
threaten us, I am quite Ipst in the way 
to the remedy. For I may truly telj 
your Lordship, that either through the 
design or unfaithfulness of my friends, 
or through their ignorance and incom- 
petency for a work of that nature, I have 
never been acquainted with the inside 
either of things or persons, but fobbed 
off with intelligence about as much dif- 
fering from ISlabbot, as he from a Diur- 
nall ; so that I can contribute little tq 
prevent our danger, more than by my 
prayers, and keeping the army and peo-; 
pic under my charge in a good frame. I 
wish yours may be so kept in England. 
IMethinks some begin their meetings very- 
early. It may be they intend to give the 
law ; but if they do not keep to what is 
honest, they may meet with disappoint- 
ments. I do heartily thank your Lord- 
ship for your freedom and confidence in 
me. I am sure I cannot plead merit, 
but shall be glad to cherish that sympa- 
thy, or whatever else it is that makes me 
yours. I hope I shall always be just to 
your Lordship. Some late letters do a 
little revive us, and give hopes of his 
Highness's recovery ; yet my trouble is 
exceeding great. I remain, &cc. 


Lord Broghill to Secretary Thurloe, 

Dear Sir, 
rpnoiTCiH I did on Monday last trou- 
•*- blc you with a letter, yet having 
now also received the honour of another 


Sect. L 



from you of the seventh instant, I could 
not but pay you my humble iind hearty 
arknov.h'dgnients for it, and that in such 
a dct'p affliction as that you arc under, 
and tliat load of business you support, you 
can yet oblige vsith your letters a person 
so unworthy of them, and io insigniricant 
as I ara. Your last is so express a. pic 
ture of sorrow, that none could draw it 
so well that did not feel it. 1 know our 
late loss wounds deeply both the public 
and yourself, and yourself more upon tht; 
public account than your own. liut I 
think sorrow for friends is more tolerable 
■\vhilc they arc dying than after they are 
dead. David's servants reasoned as ill 
as he himself did well ; they concluded, 
ii his grief were such when the child was 
but in danger of death, wliat would it be 
when he knew it was dead ? He took and 
considered the thing another way; wliilst 
tlicre was life, that is, whilst the will of 
Gotl was not declared, he thought it a 
duty to endeavour to move the mercy of 
God by his prayers and sorrow ; but 
Avhen God's pleasure was declared, he 
knew it was a duty cheerfully to yield 
unto it. I know, in the cause of grief 
iiow before us, 1 am the unhitcst of any 
to offer comfort, which I ut'cd as much as 
any; and I know it is as unlit to oflcr to 
present it you, who, as you needitmo-t of 
any, so you are ablest to afford it others 
above any : however, this one consider- 
ation of David's actings I could not but 
lay before you, it having proved an ef- 
fectual consolation to me in the death of 
one I but too much loved. But I hope 
your sorrow for what is past does not 
drown your care for what is to come ; 
nay, I am conhdent of it; for you that 
can in your sorrow and business mind me, 
makes me know your grief hinders us 
not from enjoying the accustomed etl'ects 
of your care to the public; and while 
"^vhat wc pay the dead does not obstruct 
what wc owe th«' living, such sorrow is a 
debt, and not a fault. 

In this nation his Highness has been 
prociai;:iod in most of the considerable 
places already, and in others he is daily 
ii proclaiming, and indeed with signal de- 
monstrations of love to his person, and 
of hope of happiness under his govern- 

I heartily join in all the good you say 
of him, and hope with you he will be 
happy if his friends stick to him ; amongst 
all those i know von Avill ; and 1 kiiow 

all promisfs with me arc not krpf, if you 
are not reckon* d by him in ihe first 
rank, oi which I have presumed to mind 
him in a letter 1 took the confidence to 
\yrite unto him this week. 

liut I fear, while I thus trouble you, 
I gi\e the honour of your letters a very 
dis|iroportionatr return ; and therefore I 
will only now subscribe myself, what I 
am from the bottoni of my heart, dciir 
Sir, your most humble, niostlaithful.aJid 
most obliged atfectionare servant, 

Ikillynialio, the l/th of September 


JJauy Croni'xcll to Jiic/iurd Cronizell^ 

Sept. C8, i6jS. 
Mav it please your Highness, 
T KECEivF.D a letter from 3-our High- 
■*• ness by Mr. Underwood, who, accord- 
ing to your commands, halh given me a 
particular account of the sickness and 
death of his late Highness, my dear fa- 
ther, which was such an amazing stroke 
that it did deeply affect the heart of 
every man, much more may it do those 
of a nearer relation. And indeed, for 
my own part, 1 am so astonished at it, 
that I know not what to say or write 
upon this so sad and grievous occasion. 
I know it is our duties upon all accounts 
to give submission to the will of God, 
and to be awakened by this mighty noise 
from the Lord to look, into our own 
hearts and ways, and to put our mouths 
in the dust, acknowledging our own vilc- 
ness and sinfulness betoia him ; that so, 
if possible, we may thereby yet obtain 
mercy from him for ourselves and these 
poor nations. As this stroke was very 
stupendou';, so the happy news of his late 
Highness leaving us so hopeful a founthi- 
tion for our future peace, in appointing 
your Highness his succtssor, coming along 
with it to us, did not a little allay tiic 
other. For my part I cun truly say I 
was relieved bv it, not only Uj)on the 
jmblic consideration, but even upon the 
account of the goodness of God to our 
poor lamily, who halh preserved ui from 
the contempt of our enemy. I gave a 
late account lo Mr. Secretary Thurloe«/f 
what passed about the proclaiming your 
lii^-hncss here, which, I may .^ay wiihout 
vanity, was with as great joy and general 
satistactiu.T, as 1 believe in the best af- 



footed places in Kncland. I doubt not 
but to give your Hinhnei^sas good an ac- 
count of the rost ot the places in Ireland, 
so soon as the proclamations are returned. 
I did also give some account of the 
speedy compliance of the army, whose 
obedience your Highness may justly re- 
quire at niy hands. Now, that the God 
and Father of your late father and mine, 
and your lIigllne^-s*s predecessor, would 
suppoit you, and by pouring down a 
double portion of the same spirit which 
•was so eminently upon him, would enable 
you to walk in his steps, and to do wor- 
thily for his namp, capse, and people, 
nnd continuall\ preserve you in so doini:, 
is and shall be the fervent and daily prayer 
of yours, 6:c. 


The Hon. Algernon Sidney to his friend. 

T AM sorry I cannot in all things con- 
-*- form rnyseif to the advices of my 
friends; if theirs Iiad any joint concern- 
ment \\ith mip.e, I would willingly sub- 
mit my interest to theirs; but when I 
alone am interested, and they only ad- 
vise me to come over as soon as the act 
of indemnify is passed, because they 
tliink it is best for me, I cannot wholly 
lay aside my own judgment and choice. 
1 confess, we are naturally inclined to de- 
light in our own country, and I have a 
particular love to mine ; and I hope 1 
have given some testimony of it. I think 
that being exiled from it is a great evil, 
and would redeem myself from it with 
the loss of a great deal of my blood ; 
but \vhen that country of mine, which 
used to be esteemed a paradise, is now 
likely to be made a stage of injury ; the 
liberty which we hoped to estai)lish op- 
pressed, all manner of profaneness, 
looseness, luxury, and lewdness set up in 
its height; instead of piety, virtue, so- 
briety, and modesty, which we hoped 
God, by our hands, would have intro- 
duced ; the Ijc-^t of our nation made a 
prey to the worst ; the parliament, court, 
and army corrupted, the people enslaved, 
all things vendible, and no man safe, but 
by such evil and inlamous means as flat- 
tery and bribiry ; what joy can I have in 
niy own country in this condilion ? Is it 
Ji pleasure to s( e all that I love in the 
world, sold and destroyed ? Shall I re- 

Book H. 

nounce all my old principles, learn the vil'^ 
court arts, and make my peace by bribing 
some of them ? Shall their corruption 
and vice be my safety ? Ah ! no ; bet- 
ter is a lite among strangers, than in my 
own country upon such conditions.— 
Whilst I live, I will endeavour to preserve 
my liberty; or, at least, not consent to 
the destroying of it. I hope 1 shall dip 
in the saine principle in which 1 have 
lived, and will live no longer than they 
can preserve me. I have in my life been 
guilty of many follies, but, as 1 think, 
of no meanjiess. I will not blot and de- 
file that which is past, by endeavouring 
to provide for the future, I have ever in my mind, that when God should 
east me into such a condition, as that I 
cannot ^ave my life, but by doing an in- 
decent thing, he shews me the time 
is come wherein I should resign it. And 
when I cannot live in my ow n country, 
but by such means as are worse than dy- 
ing in it, I think he shews me I ought 
to keep myself out of it. Let them please 
themselves with making the King glori- 
ous, vv ho think a whole people may justly 
be sacrilieed for the interest and pleasure 
of one man, and a few of his followers; 
k t them rejoice in their subtillity, who, 
by betraying the former powers, have 
gained the favour of this, not only pre- 
served but advanced themselves in those 
dangerous changes. Nevertheless (per- 
haps) they may lind the King's glory is 
their shame, his plenty the people's mi- 
sery : and that the gaming of an office, or 
a little money, is a poor reward for de- 
stroying a nation, which if it were pre- 
served in liberty and virtue, would truly 
be the most glorious in the world ! and 
that others may find ihey have, with much 
pains, purchased their own shame and 
misery : a dear price paid for that which 
is not worth keeping, nor the life that is 
accompanied with it : the honoured' Eng- 
lish parliaments has ever been in mak- 
ing the nation glorious aad happy, not 
in selling and destroying the interest of 
it, to satisfy the lusts of one man. Mi- 
serable nation ! that, from so great a 
height of glory, is fallen into the most 
despicable condition in the world, of hav- 
ing all its good depending upon the 
breath and will of the vilest persons in 
it ! cheated and sold by them they trust- 
ed ! Inlamous traffic, ec[ual almost in 
guilt to that of Judas 1 In all preceding 
ages, parliaments have been the pillars 


Sect. I. 



of our liberty, tl.e s;ure defcntiors of tlic 
onpresscd : tlicy ulio foniu'rly could bri- 
<ili Kings, and keep the balance equal 
betsvetn th(ni and ibe people, are now 
become the instruments of all our oppres- 
sions, and a sword in his hand to destroy 
us J they themselves, led by a few inte- 
rested persons, who are willing to buy 
offices for themselves by the misery of the 
whole nation, and the blood of the most 
worthy and eminent persons in it. De- 
testable bribes, wo.Se than the oaths now 
in fasiiion in this mercenary court ! I 
mean to owe neither my life nor liberty 
to any such means; when the innocence 
of my actions will not protect me, I will 
stay away till the storm be over-passed. 
In short, where Vane, Lambert, and 
Haslerigg cannot live in safety, I can- 
not live at all. If 1 had been in Eng- 
land, I should have e.\])ected a lodging 
with them : or, though they may be the 
lirst, as being more eminent than I, 1 
must expect to follow their example in 
sufl'ering, as 1 have been their compa- 
nion in acting. I am most in amaze at 
the mistaken informations that were sent 
to me by my friends, full of expectations, 
of favours, and employments. Who can 
think, that they, who imprison them, 
would employ me, or suffer me to live 
when they are put to death ? If I migiit 
live, and employed, can it be expected 
that I should serve a gbvernmcnt that 
seeks such detestable ways of establishing 
itself? Ah! no; I have not learnt to 
make my own peace, by persecuting and 
betraying my brethren, more innocent 
and worthy than myself. 1 must live by 
just means, and serve to just ends, or not 
at all, after such a mamfet'-.non of the 
Avays by which it is intended the King 
shall govern. I should liavc renounced 
any place of favour into which the kind- 
ness and industry of my friends might 
have advanced mo, when 1 found those 
that were better than I, were only tit to 
be destroyed. I had formerly some jea- 
lousies, the fraudulent proclamation for 
indemnity increased the imprisonment of 
those three men ; and turning out of all 
the ollicers of the army, contrary to pro- 
mise, confira.ed me in my resolutions, 
not to re; urn. 

To conclude: the tide is not to be 
diverted, nor the oppressed deUvercd ; 
but God, in his time, will haw mercy on 
his people; he will save and defend them, 
and tivence tlie bkod of f.hosc who shall 

now perish, upon the headsof those who, 
in their piide, think nothing is able to 
oppose I hem. Ui»pl>y ^i''*- those whom 
God shall makeinstruinentsof his justice 
in so blessed a work. If I can live to sec 
that day, I shall be ripe for the grave, 
and able to say uith joy. Lord! now 
leltest thou thy servant depart in peace, 
&c. (So Sir Arthur Haslerigg on Oli- 
ver's death.) Farewell. My thoughts as 
to King and state, depending upon their 
actions, no man shall be a more faithful 
servant to him than I, if he make the 
good and prosperity of his people his 
glory; none more his enemy, if he doth 
the contrary. To my particular friends 
I shall be constant in till occasions, and 
to you a most atlectionate servant. 


Mr. Boyle to the Countess of Ranelag/i. 

IMy dear Sister, 

IF 1 were of those scribblers humour 
who love to put themselves to one 
trouble, to put their frienils to another ; 
and who weekly break their silence, only 
to acquaint us with their unwillingness to 
keep it ; I must confess I had much of- 
tener writtin you letters not worth the 
reading. But having ever looked upon 
silence and respect as things as near of 
kin as importunity and affection, I elect- 
ed rather to trust to your good opinion, 
to your good-nature, than your patience 
with my letters : for which to suppose a 
welcome, must have presumed a greater 
kindness, than they could have exprcst. 
For I am grown so perfect a villager, and 
live so removed, not only from the roads, 
but from the very by-patl;s of intelli- 
gence ; that to entertain y ju with our 
country discourse, would liave extremely 
puzzled me, since your children have not 
the rickets nor the measles ; and as for 
news, I could not have sent you so much 
as that of my being well. To beseech 
yoi\ not to forget me, were but a bad 
compliment to your constancy ; and to 
tell you I ri^member you, were a worse to 
jny own judgment; and compliments ot 
the other nature it were not easy for me 
to write from Stalbridge, and liss easy to 
write to you : so that wanting all themvs 
and strains, that might enable me to fill 
my letters with anything that might pay 
the patience of reading rheii;, I thoug'ut 
it pardonabler to say nothing by a rcsptc- 
luous silence, than by idle words. Bv-t 




Book II, 

the cduses bein^ just so many excuse? of 
that silence, I ^hollllJ have nmre iioed to 
apologize lor niv lettei-s, if thcbc seemed 
not necessary tu prevent tlic miscon- 
struction of then unfrcqucncy : and if I 
did not send up tiie antidote with them, 
in the company ol my brother I'rank ; by 
whom it were equally inton;;riu>us and 
unseasonable to send you no epistle, and 
to send you a long one; wiiicli (latter) 
tbat this may not prove, I mu^t hasten to 
assure you, that though I have not verj 
lately written you any common letters, it 
is not long since 1 was writing you a de- 
dicatory one, which may (possibly) have 
rhe happiness lo convey your name to 
posterity; and having told you this.Lvhall 
next take post to beseech you t(- believe, 
that w hensoeveryou shall please to voucli- 
satc nie the honour of your comuiands, 
my glad and exact obedience sliall con- 
vince you, that though many others may 
oftener rei;evv their bonds, I can esteem 
jnyself, by a single note under my hand, 
equally engaged to you for all the ser- 
vices that may become the relation, and 
justify the professions, that stile me, my 
dear sister, your most atiectionate brother, 
and faithful humble senant, R. B. 

Stalbridge, this 13th Nov. l6-i6. 


Mr. Boyle to (he Countess of Randagh. 
I\Iy Sister, 

UAVK ever counted it amongst the 
highest infelicities of friendship, that 
it incrcasiniiiy reflects upon us our im- 
ported griefs ; lor if our friends appear 
unconcerned in ihcni, that indifference of- 
fends us, and if they resent them, sym- 
pathy aftlicts us. This consideration, 
concurring with my native disposition, 
has made jne shy of disclosing my afflic- 
tions, where I could not expect their re- 
dress ; being too proud to seek a relief in 
the being thought to need it, and too 
good a Iriend to lind a :-atisl'action in 
their grii fs 1 love, or to remit of the iil- 
liatured consolation of st-eing others 
wretched as well as I. This humour 
may in part inform you of the cause of 
niy silence, and, I hope, in part excuse 
it; but 1 am not now at leasurc to make 
apologies, though I will assure you 1 de- 
cline the employment for want of time, 
not justice, bince I wrote to you last, 1 
was unlikely enough ever to be in a cun- 


dition to write to you again ; and my 
danger was so sudden and unexpected, 
that nothmg could transcend it, except 
theirs, whose dilatory conversion makes 
tlicm trust eternity to the uncertain im- 
provement of a futuri.- contingent minute 
of a life obnoxiou: to numerous casualties, 
as impossible (almost) to be numbered 
as avoided. What God has decreed of 
me, himself bist knows; for my part, I 
shall still pray for a perfect resignation to 
his bl(?ssed will, and a resembling acqui- 
escence in it ; and 1 hope his Spirit will 
so conform me to his dispensations, that I 
may cheerfully, b}' his assignment, either 
continue my v.ork, or ascend to receive 
my wages. And in this I must implore 
the assistance of your fervent prayers^ 
dear sister, which 1 am confident will both 
iind a shorter way to heaven, and be bet- 
ter v/clcomed there. These three or four 
weeks I have been troubled with the vi- 
sits of a quotidian ague, which yet had 
not the power to hinder me from three or 
fourjournies to serve Frank, and wait 
upon my dear Broghill, nor from conti- 
nuing m}' Vulcanian feat ; and, in the 
intervals of my fits, I both began and 
made some progress in the promised dis- 
course of Public Spiritedness; but now 
truly weakness, and the doctor's pre- 
scriptions, have cast my pen into the fire ; 
though, iu spite of their menaces, I 
sometimes presume to snatch it out a 
while, and blot some paper with it. My 
))resent employment is, the reviewing 
some consolatory thoughts on the loss of 
friends, \\hich iny poor lady Susan's 
death obliged me to entertain myself with, 
and which I am now recruiting. If ever 
J linish them, I shall trouble you to read 
them; and if I do not, beseech you to 
make use of them. The melancholy 
which some liave been pleased to misre- 
present to you as the cause of my distem- 
])er, is certainly much more the effect of 
them : neither is it either of that quality 
or that degree you apprehend, but much 
more just than dangerous; yet, to obey 
you, I shall endeavour a divorce; and, 
as the properest means, endeavour to 
wait upon } ou ; in order to which, I came 
this night in a litter to this town, whence 
I intend not to dislodge, till God's bles- 
sing upon the remedies enable me to do it 
on horseback. The kindness you expres- 
sed in the letter I received this morning, 
has brought Jiie so high a conS(jlation, 
that I should think it cheaply purchased 


Sect. T. 



by tlji; occasion of it, if 1 had ii;norcd 
that the sole want of suitable opportuni- 
ties restrained the frequency of resem- 
bling strains ; and if I were not too well 
acquainted with the greatness of your 
goodness, not to derive a higher joy from 
your obliging plotters, as they are crtects 
of your friendship than testimonies of it. 
But thouj;h I value the l)Ies<ing of your 
company at the rate of having the happi- 
ness of more than an inditl'erentacciuaint- 
ance with you, I cannot consent to pur- 
chase my felicity (if such a thing could be 
done) by yourdiscjuii t : for your remove 
will not more certainly discompose your 
family, than it will be useless or unneces- 
sary to me; the natureof my disease be- 
ing such, that it will cither frustrate j'our 
visit, or allow mc to do so ; for if in a 
very short time it destroy not, it will 
lea\«^me strength enough to fetch a per- 
fect cure of it at London, whither in 
spite of my present distem[)ers, which are 
not small, nor (I fear) \ery fugitive, the 
j)hysicians would persuade me that, by 
God's assif^tance I may be able to crawl 
in a short time. 1 shall beseech you there- 
fore not to stir, until you hear further 
either from me, or oi me ; and to believe, 
that though your visits arc favours of too 
precious a quality to be fully receivable 
from your intention only, yet my concc rn 
in your quiet will make mc (in the pur- 
posed journey) more welcomely resent 
your design than yoitr presence. I hope 
you will pardon the disorder of this scrib- 
ble to that of the writer, who is not only 
weary of his journey, but is at present 
troubled with a tit of his ague, which 
yet being but a sickness, cannot impair 
an atlection, which will be sure to keep 
jne really and uiialterably till death, my 
d(.'arest, dearest, dearest sister, your snust 
atiectionate brother and humble servant, 

R. B. 
Bath, August 2, i6-i9, late at night. 


Trom the same to the same. 

My Sister, 
T MUST confess that I should be as 

much in debt for your letters, though 
I had answered every one of yours, as 
he is in his creditor's, who for two 
angels has paid back but two shillings : 
for certainly, if any where, it is in the 
Auctions of the mind, that the quality 

ought to measure extent, and assign num- 
ber and equity to multiply excellency, 
where wit has contracted it. I could 
easily evince this truth, and the justness 
of the application too,did 1 not apprehend 
that your modesty would make you mind 
mc, that the nature of my disease forbids 
all strains. I am here, GotI be praised, 
upon the mending hand, though not yet 
exempted from either pain or fears ; the 
latter of which I coulel wish (but believe 
not) as much enemies to my reason, as i 
find the former to my quiet. 1 intend 
notwithstanding, by God's blessing as 
soon as I have here ncruited and refreshed 
my purse and self, to accomplish my de- 
signed remoxal to London : my hoped 
arrival at which I look on with more jov, 
as a fruit of my recovery, than a testimo- 
ny oi it. Sir \\ illiam and his son went 
honce this moniing, having by the favour 
(or rather charity) of a visit, made me 
some comjionsalion for the many I have- 
lately received from per:5ons, whose visi- 
tations (I think 1 may cull them) in spite 
of my averseness to physic, make me 
find a greater trouble in the congratula- 
tions, than the instruments of my reco- 
very. You will pardon, perhaps, the 
bitterness of this expression, when I have 
told you, that having spent most of this 
week in drawing (for my particular use) 
a quintessence of wormwood, those dis- 
turbers of my work might easily shake 
some few drops into m.y ink. I will net 
now presume to entertain you with those 
moral speculations, with which my che- 
mical practices have entertained n'e j but 
if this last sickness had not diverted me, 
I had before this presented you with a 
discourse (which my vanity made mc? 
hope would not have displeased you) of 
the tbeolngical use of natural philosophy, 
endeavouring to make the contemplation 
of the creatures contributory to the iii- 
struction of the prince, and to the glory 
of the author of them. Rut my blood 
has so thickened my ink, that I cannot 
Jet mak« it run; and my thoughts of 
improving thic creatures have been very 
much displaced by those of leaving then;. 
Nor has my disease been more guilty ot 
my oblivion, than my employment since 
it has begun to release me : for \'ulcan 
has so transported and bewitched me, that 
as the delights I taste in it make me fancy 
my laboratory a kind of Elysium, so as 
if ihe threshold of it posse'=ssed the quali- 
tv tlie poets ascribed to that Lethe, their 




Book n. 

fictions made men taste o( before their \vlio is tied by the bindiiigest principles 
entrance intc those seats of bliss, I there of his religion to a peculiar charity to- 

forgot my stanJish and my books, and 
almost all things, but the unchangeable 
resolution I have made of continuing till 
death, sister, your li. B. 

Stalb. Aug', the last, 1()19. 

]\Ir. Buyle to Lord Bro^hilL 

My dearest Governor, 

UECKivE in our separation as much 

wards those that prot'ess it ; to use to- 
v;irds delinquents as much gentleness as 
infringes not the just rights of the inno- 
cent : and to be very tender of spilling 
their blood, for whom Christ shed his. 
But I am less delighted to learn your 
successes in the world, than to find (by 
your letter to my sister Ranelagh) that 
you mean not that they shall tie you to 
it : and are resolved, as soon as your af- 
fairs and reputation will permit you, to 
IUECKivE in our separation as much divist your public employment, and re- 
of happiness as is consistent with it, tire to a quiet privacy, where you may 
in hearing of you in so glorious, and enjoy yourself, and hare leisure to con- 
from vou in so obliging a way ; and in sider the vanity of that posthume glory, 
being'assured, by your letters and your which has nothir.g in it of certain but 
actions, how true you are to your friend- the uselessness. That, in the hurry of 
ship and your gallantry. I am not a businesses that distracts you, you could 
little satislied to find, that since you were lind leisure to bless me with your letters, 
reduced to leave your Parthenissa, your is a favour, which, though it amate me 
successes have so happily emulated or not, does highly satisfy me. The kind- 
continued the story of Artabanes; and ness they express is vvelcon^er to me for 
that you have now given romances as what it argues, than for what it pro- 
mises ; and I am much more pleased to 
See you in a condition of making pro- 
mises, than I should be with their ac- 
compli.diment. I shall only, in general 
desire your countenance for those that 
manage my fortune in your province, 
whither I sliould wait u]>on my dearest 
lady M. if black Betty did not; and se- 

vell credit as reputation. Nor am I 
moderately pleased, to see you as good 
at reducing towns in Munster as y\ssyria, 
and to find your eloquence as prevalent 
with masters of garrisons as mistresses of 
hearts ; for I esteem the former both 
much thedifficulter conquest, and more 
the usei'uller. Another may lawfully 

exalt your bold attempts and fortunate riously, the jade arrived very seasonably 

enterprizes ; but, for my part, I think to save me a journey ; for which I was 

that such a celebration would extremely but slenderly provided ; for having not 

misbecome a friei^^dship, to which your yet been able to put oft" my L. Goring's 

-goodness and my affection flatter me into statute, I am kept in this town, to do 

a belitf that our relation has rather given penance for my transgression of that 

the occasion than degree. Besides that precept, " IMy son, put money in thy 

i have so great a concern in all things " purse." But the term assigned my 

wl»er^in you have any, that thejiresump- expiation is, I hope, near expired ; and 

tion <':»f my own modesty does, as well I despair not to see myself shortly in a 

iistiic greatness of yours, silence my condition to make you a visit, that shall 

praists. And truly, that which most prevent the springs. 1 shall implore, 

endears your acquisitions to me is, that for my lady Pegg, the self fame passage 

they ha\e cost you so little blood. Far I shall wish for myself, and solemnize the 

Lesides that the glory is much more your first easterly gale with a 

own to reduce places byyour own single Farewel,fairsaint,may notthe seas and wmd,irc 
virtue^ and the interest it has acquired 

you, than if you had I know not how But I am so entirely taken up with the 

many thousand men to help you, and contemplation of her and you, that I had 

share as much the honour of your sue- forgot that I have U) write this night more 

cesses as -they contribute to them ; be- letters than the four and twenty of the 

sides this cojisideration, I say, certainly alphabet. My next shall give you ait 

though a laurel crown were more glo- account of my transactions, my studies, 

■riuub^amongst the Romans, the myrtle and my amours; of the latter of which, 

coronet (thatcrowned bloodless victoiies) black Betty will tell you as many lies as 

ou'dit to be acccptabler to a Christian, circumstances; but hope you know too 

"^ well 

Sect. T. 


v.cU what she is, uiul whence she comes, 
jiDt to take all her stories for fictions, al- 
juost as great as is the truth thiit stvles 
Jilt", iny (icarcst brollier, your most atlcc- 
tionalc broUuT, and iiumhle servant, 
London, this .20th of Deoc. lO"-iy. 11. 15. 


J'roDi flic .saiiu to the Cuiintcss of Orirn/, 
on the Eurisdiat/i, in Octubcr 1079. 

THOUGH I received so early the sad 
account of my dcare"^! brother's sick- 
ness, accomi)anied witli ill presauinc; cir- 
cumstances, ihut I could not but doubt 
it would prove his last, and so had time 
to prepare myself lor the worst ; yet, now 
tli;it my fear is turned into certainty, I 
fnul, that thouiih the wurninir I had 
kept me from being surprised, it c:innot 
keep me from being so afflicted and dis- 
composed, that I yin m.ucli more tit to 
keep you company iji your sadness, than 
endeavour to cure you of it. And there- 
fore, knowing that 1 can orTer you no 
consolations so pc.rtinei.t and weighty as 
3-o\i may supply yourself with, out of 
your own stock of reason and ri'ligion, I 
shall not trouble you with a long letter, 
but only nanu- to 3'ou two or thive of 
those considerations, that my own expe- 
rience most recommends to me in our 
common loss. Under so great a one, the 
chief thing I caii pitch upon to quiet my 
troubled mind is, the consideration of 
that hand from which this heavy stroke 
. comes : for God, who is infinitely wise 
and good, as well as absolute, hasa much 
greater right of pro))riety in our relations 
than we ourselves have, they being but 
our friends or kindred, wlureas he is 
their creator, preserver, benefactor, and 
owner; and, upon all these titles, hasa 
right to dispose of liieni as may best con- 
tUn'-c-jp his purp(}scs ; especially since the 
same coUise, by which he brings them to 
contribute to his glory, brings th'jm to 
be the earlier partakers of it. Another 
thing, which has much impression on me, 
is the remembrance of those great tor- 
ments and bodily inlirmities that have, 
for divers years, made my dear brcither's 
life very uneasy to him. 'VhS'i none 
knows better than ycnirself, whose extra- 
ordinary kindness have made you ac- 
quainted with it so much to your tqiil and 
trouble : so that, in a person that lived 
in So uiuch pain, and died \silh so much 


willingness; a pious end ought not to be 
himentfd by us, otlu 1 wise than u])on our 
own account; especially since God, by 
vouchsaling him some years of retire- 
ment from the noise and hurry of the 
world, gave liim leisure and opportunity 
to set his mind and house in order, against 
the arrival of his great change. These 
and the like considerations do much con- 
tribute to call my thoughts, under this 
sharp trial, as it relates personally to him, 
so that much of my sorrow does, I contchS, 
proceed from. my own private loss of so 
excellent a brother and a friend ; and 
from the sense I have of the general miss 
tiiat the poor country he lived in will lind 
of him, and the particular loss sustained 
by hjs atlHcted family, and esj)ecially by 
you, my dear sister, who being now, in a 
more strict sense than before, the great 
support, ornament and comfort of it, 1 
humbly beseech you tocontributeall you 
can to preserve so great a blessing to it, 
not so remembering that you were a wife, 
us to forget that you are a Christian and 
a n\other; and as you have cxemplariiy 
performed the utmost of what the lirst 
relation could require of you, so I hopo 
aud Leg you w-ill now apply yourself to 
what the two other rehitionsexact : both 
strive to moderate your grief, and take 
great careof a health, which your kind- 
ness has made you too much, and 1 fear 
too long negU-ct ; and for the recovery 
of whicha great many, besides your o\\u 
family, are not a little concerned, but 
none more heartily, and justly than, 
madam, your ladyship's, <Sfc. 

I beg to be represented as a mo^ 
humble servant to all your disconsolate 
children, whose pard<jn I beg, for not be- 
ing able to write to them in particular 
upon so sad an occasion, which alU>ws 
me not enough either of leisure, or free- 
dom of thoughts, for such an em ploy men. t- 
I wisli my lord of Orrery much joy of 
his new title, and that he may succeed 
his fatheras wellin better things asin that. 
■ Having been of late not well myself, I 
have made no visits, but one to my bro- 
ther Burlington, who kept his bed for 
the gout, and one to each of your daUi^h- 
ters, whom I found (to-day) as I expect- 
ed, extremely troubled at their great 
loss : but I hope that excess of sorrow, 
that threatened their hcalih, is so far 
moderated, that it will uot now pn.'Vi; 
at all dangerous. 



Book II. 


Mr. BoyU to the Lady Ornty. 

London, Nov. 28, i6?i. 
T LITTLE thought, ray dear sister, that 
!-o soon alter 1 had sent youacongra- 
lulatury letter about my poor lady Do- 
Dcgal, I should have occasion to write 
you a condoling one upon her account. 
But it is partly our fault, as well as our 
unhappiness, it' we so tar torgct the in- 
stabihty that human prosperityis subject 
to, as to be much surprised when we do 
not ritul it lasting. You have been of 
late years so accustomed to the loss of 
Jriends, that it may reasonably be sup- 
posed, that so much experience has not 
luore exercised your patience than con- 
tinned it. And the several accidents of 
this kind you have been subject to, would 
have put a person far less pious and con- 
siderate, upon reflections that doubtless 
would anticipate what I could ofter to 
you by way ot consolation ; which, there- 
fore, 1 shall forbear to trouble you with : 
only I cannot leave unmentioncd this, 
that is a great one to your friends and 
servants here, that they rind by a letter 
from so authentic a hand as my lord pri- 
mate's, that though the person we lament 
died young and early, she did not die sur- 
prised nor unprepared ; his grace giving 
such an account of her behaviour (luring 
her sickness and especially in the last 
sad scene of it, as forbids us to grieve for 
her, but only for ourselves and for you ; 
to whom divine support, and a sanctified 
use of his afflictions, is hcaitily wished, 
by a sharer with you in it, that begs the 
justice to be est* emcd, madam, your la- 
dyship's most humble, most faithful, and 
most affectionate servant. 

Lady Ranelagh to Mr. Boyle. 

Lees, August 6, 1664-5. 

I AM glad, my brother, to hear you go 
on to mend daily, in matter of your 
health, but sorry to rind you are not yet 
quite recovered to your former state 
therein. If our reports do not speak 
louder than truth gives them leave to do, 
C!od has again put a new hand of mercy 
upon this poor nation, to draw it to him- 
b«'lf. But for-auglit I hear, we are like 

to make our returns as disingenuous to- 
wards him for this deliverance of the 
many preceding ones that he hasaftordcd 
us; which makes me fear, that even our 
blessings will prove bitterness to us in the. 
end. I congratulate with you the hap- 
piness God has given you in making the 
employments of your health such, as you 
may seasonably and comfortably review 
and continue in the times of your sick- 
ness : the rarity of the mercy, that brings 
any one to that course of life, highly re- 
commends it to your value and gratitude, 
for most people do so live, as to leave 
themselves no better hope for their death- 
beds, than that thereon they may by 
repentance undo all they have been do- 
ing in their way thither. Whether the 
dominion you are recommending to men 
will lake so much with them, to raise 
• heir ambitions towards its attainment, 
as that they most commonly pursue with 
much more pains, I know not, and much 
doubt the worst. But certainly it is most 
likely, the best way of man's ruling the 
creature is by his employing those facul- 
ties to that purpose, which God himself 
has fitted in their employment to make 
him able to do so ; and those are his ra- 
tional ones, whereby as he may discover 
the properties and uses of other things, 
so he may chuse to apply them thereby 
to their proper ends, the service and in- 
struction of mankind ; but swords and 
guns are taken, upon the v\'ord of the 
great destroyer, to be mare suitable means 
to that end, and used accordingly, though 
we daily sec, that by that way of over- 
coming, we spoil what we should govern. 
Your naming Oxford to me as free from 
infection, makes me fear you may have 
some thoughts of going thither ; which if 
you have, I shall much more repent my 
not staying with you, yet dare not per- 
suade against it, because I assure myself 
you are carried thither in pursuit of aims, 
that I would rather excite than obstruct 
you in. But I earnestly petition, if you 
have, that you would before you go give 
jne warning enough to make you a vi- 
sit; for I have pow got a lodging at 
Newington-Green, which mi.->ss's illness, 
which for two or three days has been 
pretty violent, though now turned into 
an ague at present, ke( ps from being 
iised by, yours afteclionately, K. R. 

The ladies here present you services. 

My girls arc yoar humble servants. 

Sect. T. 





Sir William TcvipJc to Sir William C<j- 


AM to acknowledge both the honour 
and oblii;ation I received by yours of 
November the yth ; the hist ot" which 
seems so great in that light you give it, 
and bythoso circumstances I now see at- 
tend it, that had it come from any other 
hands I should have wislied a thousand 
times never to have received it: for, 
there arc very few I desire much to be 
obliged to ; having always thought that 
a sort of debt which ought as duly to be 
paid as that of money, with more in- 
terest, and much greater dil'liculty of 
casting up. But knowing that all gene- 
rous persons arc apt to favour and esteem 
their own, rather such whom they ob- 
lige, than such as serve them ; 1 am ex- 
tremely glad to have my name enter into 
the knowledge of his Royal Highness, 
by his bounty and favour in the grant of 
those passports, rather than any other 
way I could have taken ; and I beg of you, 
that with my humble thanks, his Royal 
Highness may know I enter into his ser- 
vice with this advance of wages, which 
it shall be always my endeavour, as it is 
my duty, to deserve it. I owe, and should 
say a great deal to yourself upon this oc- 
casion, but that with my thanks for the 
thing itself, I am to join my c<jmplaints 
for the manner of it; I mean, that you 
should trouble yourself to reason me out 
of any custom or action you would have 
me leave oft", or say any thing upon such 
a subject, besides that you wish it had 
been otherwise; which, I desire you to 
believe, shall in far greater n^atters be 
from your hand persuasion and command 
enough to me. My presumptions may 
be great with my friends, but they are 
the easilitst checked of any man's alive ; 
which is all I shall say upon this occasion 
as to the future ; and for the past, 1 will 
only assure you that I shmild not in the 
least have otTored at what I did, had it 
not been at the earnest instance of the 
Prince of Munster's resident here ; and 
I am to make it my business abroad, to 
enter as far as I can into the secrets, and 
for that end, into the aflections of such 
miiiistei-s as 1 ha\e to deal with ; and 
l^s some raepare to be gainoJ dirs.'CtlY by 

their heart, so are others by their hands : 
but another fault were easier to be borne 
than a long excuse ; I will not add to it 
by our news, sinre, of all I write, I am 
sure you know as much as you please: 
only in general, our bishoji lo!»es not 
courage nor strength upon all the gnat 
preparations of enemies, or disappoint- 
ment of friends. The Dutch seem to be 
plagued by their own Gud, and to grow 
unhappy in tluir own element, the sea 
having clone them in the last storms mo.-t 
extravagant harms; some lellei% Irma 
Amsterdam say to the value of thiily, 
and others of sixty millions ; their cajK: 
may grow harder yet, if the frosts do so 
from the Munster side. Our court here 
is passionate towards the league between 
the two crowns ; as I am in the desires of 
growing in your friendship and favour, 
and deserving it by any testimonies I can 
give of my being, Sir, your most faith- 
ful humble servant. 

Brussels, Dec. 15, S. N. l66'5. 


From the same to Dame ^u^ustinc Cary, 


I KNOW not whether the shame of 
having been so long in your debt, be 
greater than that of paying it so ill at 
last, but I am sure it is much harder to 
bo excused, and therefore shall not at- 
tempt it, but leave it to Father Placid's 
oratory, though having failed in the sub- 
stantial part of youi business, 1 have lit- 
tle reason to hope he will succeed better 
in the ceremonial part of mine. The 
truth is, there is so great a ditlerence in 
common sound between, It is done, and, 
It will be done, that I was unwilling to 
acknowledtje the honour of having re- 
ceived vour Ladyship's commands, be- 
ibre I had compi^sed that of obeying 
them, which the Marciuis here hath so 
often assured me would suddenly fall to 
my share, that I thought we had both 
equal reason, his Excellency to do it, and 
1 to believe it. This right 1 must yet Ao 
Inni, that I never pressed him in this con- 
cern of your Ladyshi])'s, but he told me 
all my arguments were needless, for the 
thing should be done ; and how to force 
a man that yields, I never understood : 
but yet I much doubt that till the result 
be given upon the gross of this alVair, 
which is and has been syniytime usider 
>,' 2 view 



Book II. 

view, vour part in particular will hardly 
be thought ripe lor eitlier his juslici' or 
favour, which will hr rather the style 
it must run in, it it be u desire ot exemp- 
tion from a penrral rule given in the 
•case : whatever pi rst.n (atter the father's 
return) sha 1 be appointed to observe the 
course of this atrair, and pursue the la- 
dy's pretensions h^-re, will be sure of all 
the assihtai-icc I can at any time give him ; 
though I thini; it would prove a ujok; 
public scr\Jce to find someway of di^^solv- 
ing your society, and by that means dis- 
persing so much worth about the world, 
than, by])ri'>e:vi!)gyou together, conlino 
it to a cornir, and sutler it to shine so 
much less, and go out so much sooner, 
than otherwise it would. The ill clfects 
of your retreat appear too much in the 
ill success of your business ; for I cannot 
think any thing could fail thatyour I -ady- 
bhip would solicit: but, I presume, no- 
thing in this lower scctieis worthy either 
that, or So much as your desire or care, 
which are words that enter not your 
gates, to disturb that pertect quiet and 
indirt'erency, w'.iich 1 will believe inha- 
bit there; and by your happiness dtcide 
the long dispute, whether the r^reatir lies 
in wanting nothing, or possessing mucli. 

I cannot but tell you it was unkindly 
done to refresh the memory of your bro- 
ther Da Cary's loss, which was not a 
more general one to mankind, than it 
was pai titular to me : but if I can suc- 
ceed in your Ladyship's service, as well 
as I had the honour once to do in his 
friendship, I shall think I have lived to 
good purpose here ; and for hereafter, 
shall leave it to Almighty God, with a 
submisMoii as ab;)ndoiied as you can ex- 
erci.-e in the low common concernments 
of this wortiilcbs life, which 1 can hardly 
imagine was intended us for so great a 
misery as it is here' commonly made, or 
to betray so large a part of the world to 
bo much greater hereafter as is common- 
ly believed, However, I am obligeii to 
your Ladyship for your prayers, wliich I 
am sure are well intended me, and shall 
return you mine, that no ill thouglits of 
jny faith may possess your Ladyship with 
an ill one of niy works too; which I am 
sure cannot fail of being viry meritori- 
ous, if ever I reach the intentions 1 
have of expressing niyself upon all oc- 
casiiin."-. Madam, your Lad\ ship's must 
Liimiile and most obedient servant, 

ij:us:_e!s, Feb. lG"tli, S. N. iO'oO". 


SirJJ'illiam Temple to Sir Orlando Bridg- 
man, Lord Knptr. 

My Lord, 
1 uiCi.ivKD some dajs since the ho- 
-*- nour of one frou) your Lordshiji ot the 
<)ih past, and though I owe all the ac- 
knowledgments that can be upon it, yet 
1 will not so much wrong your Lordship's 
tinu', or my own sincereness, as to en- 
large them with much ceremony. It will 
be enough to say, that nothing can be 
more obliging than your favours to me, 
both in the degree and manner of it, 
arising so freely from your Lordship's 
bounty and gcnerousness, as well as ex- 
pressed in a way so frank and so hearty 
as that of your last letter; and on the 
other side, that no man can resent it 
more, though they may much better de- 
serve it; and that your Lordship can 
never reckon more truly nor more justly 
upon any person's esteem and serrices, 
than upon mind, which I humbly beg 
your Lordship to believe. I doubt you 
will be ./troubled with my wife's attend- 
ances, having told her your Lordship 
had given her that liberty ; if she ever 
pritcnds your favour and countenance 
furthir than in receiving what the King 
has made me due upon this employment 
while I have it, or what his Majesty shall 
from his own motion assign me, upon any 
new commission, I disclaim her before- 
hand, and declare she goes not upon my 
errand ; for I shall never think that loo 
little which his Majesty thinks enough : 
for the rest, I will be confident, neither 
your Lordship nor my Lord Arlington 
ir\tend I should ruin myself by my em- 
ployments, or that I bhould at my own 
charge bear out a character, which of it- 
self is eiKHigh to turn round a htad that 
has all its life, till those last three years, 
being used to shade and silence. In case; 
the occasion should break, and my jour- 
ney to Aix should yet fail, I ask nothing 
of his Majesty, though putting mysell in 
a posture to comply with any sudden ne- 
cessity of it has already forced me to en- 
ter into very considerable expences; but 
in case I must go, I beg your Lordship, 
that has children, to consider how hard 
it would be for me to perf(jrm such a 
journey upon n)y own credit. What- 
« VI r it be that his Majesty thfnks fit to 
assiiin me upon such an occasion, if he 

pit uses 

Srct. r. 



{(leases to order Alderman Backwcll to 
tiini'bli me N\ith a letter of credit tor so 
niiicli, let it be what it will, I will live, 
actordiiig to what that and my own lit- 
lie revenue will reach, and not spare 
any liltle presents I have received in his 
-Majesty's service, where bis honour re- 
quires It : all I desire is, only not to be 
forced into deijts, which, to say the 
truth, 1 have ever abhorred, and would 
by my good will cat dry crusts, and' lie 
upon the floor rather than do it upon 
any other consideration than of his Ma- 
jesty's immediate commancU, and 1 hope 
those, his justice, and my friends favour, 
will prevent. 

I beg your Lordship's pardon for 
troubling you with this strange freedom 
about my own concernments, which )0U 
have pleased fo encourage me to, and 
may at any time check me in it, with 
the least discountenance, which 1 doubt 
I have already deserved. But I will not 
increiise or lengthen my faults by ex- 
cuses, nor trouble yoar Lordshi]i, by re- 
peating any thing as what my L<jrd Ar^ 
lington receives from me at large, upon 
the course of public affairs here ; which 
though seenimg to change often, in others 
eyes, appears to me constant in the 
Trench design of a war; which I believe 
nothing can alter, but tlie visible marks 
of force and steadiness in their neigh- 
bours to oppose them. 

I beg your Lordship's belief, that as 
I am with very great reason, so 1 am 
with very great passion too, my Lord, 
TOurs, 6:c. 

J5russcls, April 3, l(j.S5, 


Earl of Clarendon to the Dvlce of York, 
on the Dutchess's turning Catholic, 

T HAVE not presumed in any manner to 
-*- to approach your royal presence, since 
I have been marked with the brand of ba- 
nishment ; and 1 would still with the same 
forbear this presumption, if I did not be- 
lieve myself bound by all tiie obligations 
of duty to make this address to you. I 
have been too much acquainted with the 
presumption and impudence of the times, 
ill raising false and scandalous reproaches 
upon innocent and worthy persons of all 
qualities and degrees, to give credit to 
those bold whispers which have been too 
long scattered abroad concerning yoiir 

wife's being shaken in her religion ; but 
when those whisj)ei-s break out into noise, 
and public persons begin to report, that 
the iJutchess is become a. ilonian Caiho- 
lic ; when I heard that many worthy per- 
sons of uiu|uestionable devotion to your 
Ivoyal Highness are not without some 
fear and a{)prehension of it, and many 
reflections arc made from thence to the 
prejudice of your royal person, ar.d even 
of the King's Majesty, I hope it may not 
misbecome me, at what distance soever, 
to cast myself at your feet, and beseech 
you to look on this matter in time, and 
to apply some antidote to expel the poi- 
son of it. 

It is not possible your Royal Highness 
can be without zeal and entire devotion 
for that church, for the purity and pre- 
servation whereof yuur blessed father 
made himself a sacrifice, and to tl:e re- 
storation whereof you have contributed 
so much yourself, and which highly de- 
serves the King's protection, and vours, 
since there can be no possible defec;ioa 
in the hearts of the people, while due re- 
verence is made to the church. 

Vour wife is generally believed to have 
so perfect a duty and entire resignation 
to the will of your Royal Highness, that 
any defection in her from her religion, 
will be for want of circumspection in } ou 
and not using your authority, or to your 
connivance. I need not tell the ill con- 
sequence that such a mutation would be 
attended with in reference to your Royal 
Highness, and even to the King hinibclt', 
wl>«)se greatest security (under God) is 
in the allection and duty of his Protest- 
ant subjects. Your Royal Hi-ghnes3 
knows how far I have always been from 
wi^hing that the Roman Catholics should 
be prosecuted with severity ; but I less 
wish it should be over in their power to 
be able to prosecute those who dirler 
from them, since we well know ho'.\ lit- 
tle moderation they would or could use. 
And if this which people so much talk 
of (1 hojje without ground) should fall 
out, it might very probably raise a 
greater storm against the Roman Catho- 
lics in general, than modest men can 
wish ; since after such a breach any jea- 
lousy of their presumption would seem 
rea.^onable. I have written to the Dut- 
chef;s with the freedom and aiTection of 
a troubled and perplexed father. I do 
most humbly beseech 3'cur Royal High- 
ness by your authority to rescue her 
N Ci ffwHi 

from bringing a mischief upon you and 
bersi'lt' tluit can mvor be vcpaired ; ami 
to tiiink it wmtliy your wistUmi to re- 
move and dispil tliose reproaches (liow 
false socMT) by bet»r evidence than con- 
tempt ; and hope vou do believe, lliat 
no severity I have, or can uiidngo, shall 
in anydegiee Ussm or dimiiiibh iny nio;<t 
))rotoiind duty to his Majesty and yonr 
Royal Hi^lni's^; but that I do vitli all 
imaginable obedience submit to your 
good pleasure in all thin<;s. 

God preserve your Royal Highness, 
and keep mo in your favour. Sir, your 
RfAal Hichness's most humble and obe- 
dient servant. 


Earl of Clarendon to the Dutchess of 
York, on the same occasion. 


Book II. 


'ou have much reason to brlicvo that 
I have no m'nd to trouble you, or dis- 
please you, especially in an argument 
that is so unpleasant and grievous to my- 
st'\(; but as no distance of a place that is 
between us, in respect of our residence, 
or the greater distance in respect of the 
high condition you are in, can make me 
less your father, or absolve mc from pi r- 
forming those obligations which that re- 
lation requires from me ; so when I re- 
ceive any credible advertisement of what 
reriects upon you, in point of h'.mour, 
conscience, or discretion, I ought not to 
omit the informing 30U of it, or admi- 
nistering such advice to you as to my 
understanding seems reasonable ; and 
which I must still Ixjpe will have some 
credit with you. 1 will confess to yon, 
tliat what you wrote to meniany moiillis 
iince, upon those reproachos wiiich 1 told 
you were generally reported concerning 
\our defection in religion, gave me so 
much satisfaction, that I believid them to 
proceed from that ill spirit of the times 
that delights in slander and calumny. 
J?ut I must tell you, that the san>e re])ort 
increases of late very much, and 1 my- 
self saw the last week a letter from Paris, 
froju a person who said the English am- 
bassador assured him the day before, that 
the Dutchess was become a Jloman Ca- 
tholic; and, which makes greater impres- 
sions up; n me, 1 am .issured that many 
;;ood men in England, who have great 

affection for you and rae, and who have 
thought nothing more impossible than 
that there should be such a change in 
you, arc at present under much afflic- 
tion, with the observation of a gfcat 
change in your course of life, and that 
constant exercise of that devotion which 
was so notorious ; and do apprehend from 
jour frequent discourses, that you have 
not (he same reverence and veneration 
that you used to have for the Church of 
England ; the church in which you was 
baptized, and the church the best con- 
stituted, and the most free from errors 
of any Christian cluirch this day in the 
world ; and the same persons by their 
insinuations have prevailed with you to 
have a better opinion of that which is 
most opposite to it, the Church of Home, 
than the integrity thereof deserves. 

Jt is not yet in my power to believe, 
that your wit and understanding (with 
God's blessing upon both) can sutler you 
to be shaken larthcr than with melan- 
choly retlections upon the iniquity and 
wickedness of the age we live in ; which 
discredits all religion, and which with 
equal licence breaks into the professors 
of all, and prevails upon the members 
of all churches, and whose manners will 
have no benelit from the faith of an)- 

I presume you do not entangle yourself 
in the particular controversies between 
the Romanists and us, or think yourself 
a competent judge ofall difficulties which 
occur therein : and therefore it must be 
some fallacious argument of antiquity 
and universality, confidently urged by 
men who know less than many of those 
you are acquainted with, and ought less 
to be believed by you, that can raise any 
doubts and scruples in you ; and if you 
will witheejual temper hear those who are 
well able to instruct you in those particu- 
lars, it is not possible for you to suck in 
that poison which can only corrupt and 
prevail over you by stopping your own 
ears, and shutting your own eyes. There 
are but two persons in the world who 
have greater authority with you than I 
can pretend to ; and am sure they both 
sutler more in this rumour, and would 
sutler much more if there were ground 
for it, than I can do; and truly 1 am as 
unlikely to be deceived myself, or to de- 
ceive you, as any man that endeavours 
to pervert vou in your religion. And 
therefore, I beseech you, let me have so 


Sect. I. 



much credit with you, as to persuade 
you to communicate any doubt or scru- 
ples wliich occur to you, before you suf- 
fer them to make too deep an impression 
upt)n you. 

The common argument, that there is 
no salvation out of the church, and that 
the Church of Rome is that only true 
church, is both irrational and untrue ; 
there are many chnrclics in which salva- 
tion may be attained, as well as in aiy 
one of them; and were many, even in 
the Apostles time ; otherwise they would 
never have directed their EpistUs to so 
many several churches, in which there 
Kvere different opinions received, and 
vtry different doctrines taught. There 
is indeed but one faith in wi)ich we can 
be saved, the steadfast belief of the birth, 
passion, and resurrection of our Saviour; 
and every church that receives and em- 
braces that faith is in a state of salvation. 
If the Apostles preached true doctrine, 
the reception and retention of many er- 
rors does not destroy the essence of a 
church; if it did, the Church of Rome 
■would be in as ill, if not in a worse condi- 
tion, than most other Christian churches; 
because its errors are of a greater magni- 
tude, and more destructive to religion. 
Let not the canting discourses of the uni- 
versality and extent of the church, which 
has as little truth as the rest, prevail over 
you : they who would imitate the greatest 
part of the world, and turn Heathens ; 
lor it is generally believed, that above 
one half of the world is possessed by them, 
and that the Mahometans possess above 
one half of the remainder. There is as 
little question, that of the rest, which is 
inhabited by Christians, one part of four 
is not of the communion of the Church 
of Rome, and God knows in that very 
communion there is as great discord in 
•pinion, and in matters of as great mo- 
ment, as is between the other Christians. 
I hear you do in public discourses dis- 
like some things in the church of Eng- 
land, as the marriage of the clergy, which 
is a point which no Roman Catholic 
will pretend to be of the esser.ce of reli- 
gion, and is in use in many places which 
are of the communion of the Church of 
Rome ; as in Bohemia, and those parts 
of the Greek Church which submit to the 
Roman : and all men know, that in the 
late Council of Trent, the sacraments of 
both kindsj and liberty of the clergy to 

marry, were very passionately pressed 
both bv the Emperor and King of France 
for their domii.ions; and it was after- 
wards granted to Germany, though un- 
der such conditions as nrtde it ineffec- 
tual ; which however shews that il was 
not, nor even can be looked upon as a 
matter of relig-on. Christianity was ma- 
ny hundred years old before surli a re- 
stnunt was ever heard of in the church ; 
and when it was e-.-J-avoured, it met 
with great opposition, and was never 
submitted to. And as the positive inhi- 
bition seems absolutely unlawful, so the 
inconveniences which result from thence, 
will upon a just disquisition be found su- 
perior to those which attend the liberty 
which the Christian religion permits. — 
Those arguments which are not strong 
enough to draw persons from the Roman 
communion into that of the Church of 
England, when custom and education, 
and a long stupid resignation of all their 
faculties, to their teachers, usually shuts 
out all reason to the contrary ; may yet 
be abundant to retain those who have 
been baptized, and bred, and instructed 
in the grounds and principles of that re- 
ligion ; which are, in truth, not only 
founded upon the clear authority of thu 
Scriptures, but upon the consent of an- 
tiquity, and the practice of the primitive 
church : and men who look into anti- 
quity, know well by what corruption 
and violence, and with what constant 
and continual opposition, those opinions, 
which arc contrary to ours, crept into 
the world, and how warrantably the au- 
thority of the Bishop of Rome, which 
alone supports all the rest, came to pre- 
vail; which has no more pretence of au- 
thority and power in England, than the 
Bishop of Paris, or Toledo, can as rea- 
sonably lay claim to ; and is so far from 
being matter of Catholic religion, that 
the Pope has so much, and no more, to 
do in France or Spain, or any other 
Catholic dominion, than the crown and 
laws and constitutions of several king- 
doms give him leave ; which makes him 
so little (if at all) considered in France, 
and so much in Spain ; and therefore the 
English Catholics, which attribute so 
much to him, make themselves very un- 
warrantably of another religion than the 
Catholic Church professes : and without 
doubt those who desert the Church of 
England, of whict tl).'?y are members, 
N 4 sind 



B.)ok ir. 

and become tijcreby disubcdii-nt to the 
cccleiiiastical and ci\ il laws u( their cmiii- 
try, and therein nn'tunci- their sulijcc- 
tionto tho state, a>? well as to the church 
(which are grievous sins), had noeil of a 
better excuse, than the mectini!; wiih 
some d-^iuhts which tliey couhl not an- 
swer ; and less than a nianit'est evidence, 
tliat their salvation is desperate in that 
comnmnion, cannot serve tlicir turn : 
and they wlio imagine they liavesuch an 
evidence, ought rather to suspect that 
their understanding has forsaken them, 
and that they arc become mad, than that 
the church, which is repleiii.shcd with 
all learning and piety requisite, can be- 
tray them to perdition. 

I beseech you to consider (whicli I 
liope will over-rule those ordinary doul;rs 
and objections which may be infused 
into you), that if you change your reli- 
gion, you renounce all obedience, and 
affection to your father, who loves you 
so tenderly tljat such an odious mutation 
would break his heart , you condemn 
your father and your mother (whose in- 
comparable virtues, and piety, and devo- 
tion, have j)laced her in heaven) lor 
liaving impiously educated you ; you de- 
clare the church and state, to both which 
you owe reverence and subjection, to i^e, 
in your judgment, Antichristian : you 
bring irreparable dishonour, scandal, and 
prejudice, to the Duke your husband, to 
whom you ought to pay all imaginable 
duty; and who, I presumi-, is much 
more precious to you than your own 
life; and ail possible ruin to your chil- 
dren, of whosu company and conversa- 
tion you must look to be deprived ; tor 
God forbid that after such an ap'istacy 
you should have any power in the edu- 
cation of your children. l['ou have many 
enemies, whom you would here abun- 
dtintly gratify, and some friends whom 
you will thereby (at least as as in you 
li:s) periectly destroy; and afflict many 
others, v.ho have deserved well of^ou. 

I know you are not inciiiied to any 
part of this mischief, and therefore offer 
these considerations as all those jjarlicu- 
lars would be infallible consequenc; s of 
such a conclusion. It is to mc the sad- 
dcyt circumstance of my banishment, 
ih^it I may not be admitted, in such a 
M;a?on this,' to confer with you, when 1 
am confident I would satisfy you in all 
doubts, and jnake it appear tu } ou, that 

there are many absurdities in the Roman 
n ligion, inconsistent witli ) our judgment 
and understanding; aMd many impieties 
inconsistent with your conscience; so 
that before you can submit to the obli- 
gations of laith, you must divest yourself 
of your natural reason and conimoiv 
sense, and capti\ate the dictates of your 
conscience, to fhe impositions of an au- 
thority which has not any pretence to 
oblige oradvisc you. Jf you will not with 
freedom communicate the doubts which 
occur to you, to thoseiiearyou, of whose 
learning and piety you have had such 
experience, ht me conjure you to im- 
j)art them to mo, and to expect my an- 
swer before you sutler them to prevail 
over you. (5od bless you and yours. 


77/f Dutchess's Ansiicr. 

TA^iiEREAS I have been over from my 
* ' infancy bred up in the English pio- 
tcstant religion, and have had very able 
pirsons to instruct me in the grounds 
tliereof, and I doubt not but I am ex- 
posed to the censure of an intinite num- 
ber of persons, whoaro astonished at my 
quitting it, to embniCe the religion of the 
Roman Caliiolics (for which 1 have ever 
professed a great aversion) ; and there- 
fore I have thought tit to give some sa- 
tisfaction to my friends, by declaring 
unto them the reasons upon which I 
liave been moved to do it ; without en- 
gaging myself in long and unprotitable 
disputes touching the matter. 

1 protest therefore, before Ciod, that 
since my conung into England, no person, 
either man or woman, hath at any time 
persuaded me to alter my religion, or 
hath used any discourses to me upon that 
subject. It hath been only a particular 
favour from God, who hath been gra- 
ciously pleased to hear the prayers I 
dailyinadeunto hinf, both in France and 
Flanders whilst I was there, I hat he would 
vouchsafe to bring me into the true cliurch 
before I died, in case I wjts not in tho 
right; and it was the devolio)n I ob- 
served in the Catholics there, which in- 
duced me to make that prayer ; altho' 
my own devotion during all that time 
was very slender. I did notwithstand- 
ing, all the time 1 was in those countries, 


Sect. I. 



believe 1 was in thi; true religion ; iiei- 
thiT hud 1 the K-ast scruple of it until 
Novcnil)cr last, at which limc' reading 
Dr. Hi'vlin's History of the Rd'onnutiou, 
which had been hiijhly reconimendid to 
me, 1 was so lar Irom lindiiiq the satis- 
faction I expi'cttd, that 1 found nothin;^ 
but sacrilt;i;r.s ; and lookinjz ovtr tlic rea- 
sons therein set down, which caused liie 
separation of the Church of England 
from that of Rome. I road three there, 
which to me were i^rcat impittics. The 
first was, That Henry VHl. had cast oft" 
the pope's authority, because he would 
not permit him to quit his wife and marry 

The second, That during the minority 
of Edward ^T. his uncle, the duke of 
Somerset, who then governed all, and 
•was the principal in that alteration, did 
yreatly einicli himself with the goods of 
the church, which he engrossed. 

And the thiril consisted in this. That 
queen Elizabeth, not being righitul heir 
to the crown, could not keep it, but by 
renouncing a church which would never 
have allowed of such injustice. I couhl 
not be persuaded the Holy Ghost would 
ever have made use of such motives as 
these were to change religion, and was 
astonished at the bishops, if they had 
no other intention than to establish the 
doctrine of the primitive church, had not 
attempted it bi'fore the schism ot Henry 
VIlI. which Mas grounded upon such 
unjustifiable pretences. 

Being trouWed with these scruples, I 
began to make some reflections upon the 
points of doctrine wherein we dirlbred 
irom the Catholics ; and to that purpose 
liad recourse to the Holy Scriptuie, and 
though I pretend not to be able perfectly 
to understand it, I found notwithstanding 
tevoral pwints which seemed to me very 
plain ; and I cannot but wonder that I 
staid so long without taking notice of 
them. Amongst these were, the real 
presence of our Saviour in the sacra- 
ments, the infallibility of the church, 
confession, and prayers for the dead. I 
treated of these particulars severally, with 
two of the m< st learned bishops of Eng- 
land ; and advising upon these subjects, 
they told me, that it was to be v.ished 
that the church of England had retained 
several things it altered : as, for ex- 
ample, confession, which without doubt 
is of divine institution- They told me 

also, that prayer for the dead bad been 
in use in the primitive church, during the 
hrst centuries ; and that they themselves 
did dally observe those things, though 
they desired not publickly to own those 
doctrines. And having pressed one of 
tlr.rn something earnestly touching these 
tilings, he frankly told me, that if he 
had been bred uji in the Catholic reli- 
gion, he should not have left it ; but no\r 
beijig a member of that church which 
believed all the articles necessary to siil- 
vation, he thought he should do ill to 
quit it, because he was beholden to that 
church for his baptism, and he should 
thereby give occasion of great scandal 
to others. 

All these discourses were a means to 
increase the desire 1 had to embrace th« 
Roman Catholic religion, and added 
much to the inward trouble of my mind ; 
but the fear I had to be hasty in a matter 
of that importance, made me act warily, 
with all precautions necessary in such a 
case. I prayed incessantly to God, that 
he would be pleased to inform me in the 
truth of these points whereof I doubted. 
Upon Christmas-day, going to receive 
at the king's chapel, I found myself in 
greater trouble than c^ver I had been in ; 
neither was it pos:^lble for me to be at 
quiet, until I had discovered myself to a 
certain Catholic, who presently brought 
me a priest. He was the first of them with 
whom I ever conversed, und the more I 
conversed with him, the more I found 
myself to be conhrmed in the resolution 
I had taken. It was, I thought, impos- 
sible to doubt of these words, " This is 
** my body; " and I am verily persuad- 
ed that our Saviour, who is truth itself, 
i'.nd hath promised to continue with his 
church to the world's end, would never 
suffer these holy mysteries to the laity, 
only undor one kind, if it was incon- 
sistent with his institution of that sacra- 

J am not able to dispute touching 
these things with any body, and if I were, 
I would not go about to do it, but I con- 
tent myself to have wrote this to justify 
the change I have msjide gf my religion ; 
and 1 call God to witiiess, I had not done 
it, had I believed 1 could have been saved 
in that church whereof till then I vas a 
member. I protest seriously, I havenjt 
been induced to thi-", bv any worldly in- 
terests or motives; ntither can the truth 




Book rr. 

of this my protestation be rationally 
doubted by anv person, since it was evi- 
dent that thereby I lost all my friends, 
and very niuoli prejudiced my reputa- 
tion ; but having seriously considered 
with mysi It", whether I ought to renounce 
my portion in the other world, to enjoy 
the advantages of my present being liere, 
I assure you I found it no difficulty at 
all to resolve the contrary, for which I 
render thanks to God, who is the author 
uf all i^ooJnc^s. 

My only prayer to him is, that the 
poor Catholics of this kingdom may not 
be prosecuted upon my account, and I 
beseech God to grant me patience in my 
afilictions, and that what uibulations so- 
ever his goodness has appointed for me, 
I may so go through with them, as that 
I may hereafter enjoy a happiness foraH 

Given at St. James's, the 20th 
of August 1070, 

187 ] 






Frotn Janus IJouel, Esq; to Sir J. S. at 
Leeds Castlf. 

Sir, Westmia. 25 July, 1625, 

IT was a quaint difference the ancients 
aid put betwixt a letter and an ora- 
tion ; that the one should be attired like 
a woman, the other like a man : the lat- 
ter of the two is allowed large side robes, 
as long periods, parentheses, similes, ex- 
amples, and other parts of rhetorical flou- 
rishes : but a letter or epistle should be 
short-coated and closely couched : a huii- 
gerlin becomes a letter more handsomely 
than a gown ; indeed we should write as 
we speak ; and that's a true familiar let- 
ter which expresseth one's mind, as if he 
were discoursing with the party to whom 
he writes, in succinct and short terms. 
The tongue and the pen are both of 
them interpreters of the mind ; but I 
hold the pen to be the more faithful of 
the two : the tongue in iido posita, being 
seated in a moist slippery place, may fail 
and falter in iier sudden extemporal ex- 
pressions ; but the pen having a greater, 
advantage of premeditation, is not so 
subject to error, and leaves things behind 
it upon firm and authentic rceord. Now 
letters, though they be capable of any 
subject, yet con:mon!y they are either 

narratory, objurgatory, consolatory-, mo- 
natory, or congratulatory. The first con- 
sists of relations, the second of reprehen- 
sions, the third of comfort, the two last 
of counsel and joy: there are some who rn 
lieu of letters write homilies; they preach 
when they should epistolize : there are 
others that turn them to tedious tractates: 
this is to make Ictiers degenerate from 
tluirtrue nature. Some modern authors 
there are who have exposed their letters 
to the world, but most of them, I mean 
among your Latin epistolizers,go freight- 
ed with mere Bartholomew ware, with 
trite and trivial phrases only, listed with 
pedantic shreds of shool-boy verses. 
Othci-s there are among our next trans- 
marine neighbours eastward, who write 
in their own language, but their style is 
so soft and easy, that their letters may be 
said to belike bodies of loose flesh with- 
out sinews, they have neither joints of 
art nor arteries in them ; they have a 
kind of simpering and lank hectic ex- 
pressions made up of a bombast of words, 
and finical ati'ected compliments only : I 
cannot well away with such sleazy stuff, 
with such cobweb-compositions, where 
there is no strength of matter, nothing 
for the reader to carry away with him 
that may enlarge the notions of hi,-> soul. 
One shall hardly find an apophthegm, ex- 
ample, simile, or any thing of philosophy, 
history, or sglid knowledge, or as much 



E L E ( ; A NT E IM S T L E S. 

Eook II. 

as one new crcatcJ phrase in a hundred 
or" thcin : and to draw any observations 
out of them, were as if one went ahout 
iij distil cream out of froth; insomucli 
that it may be said of them, what was 
said of the Fxho, " That she is a mere 
sound and nothing else." 

I returi;you } our Balzac by this bearer : 
and wlien I found tiioi^c letters, wherein 
he is <o fam:liar with his k:n<r, so flat ; 
und those to Richlicu, so pufled with 
profane hyperboles, and larded up and 
down with such gross flatteries, with 
others be-ides, which he sends as urinals 
up and down the world to look into his 
water for disco\ery of the crazy condi- 
tion of his body; I forbore him further. 
So I am your affectionate servitor. 


From James Jloxvel, Esq ; (o his Father, 
vpon his first going btycnd Sea. 

Sir, Broa'J-street, LonJon, ist March i5i8. 
T SHOULD be much wanting to my- 
-*■ self, and to that obligation of duty 
the law of God and his handmaid Nature 
hath imposed on me, if I should not 
acquaint you w ith the course and fjuality 
of my aflkirs and fortunes, e^-pecially at 
this time, that I am upon point of cross- 
ing the seas to eat my bread abroad. 
Nor is it the common relation of a son 
that only induced me hereunto, but that 
most indulgent and costly care you have 
been pleast d (in so extraordinary a man- 
ner) to have had of my breeding (though 
but one child of fifteen) by piacijig mc 
in achoicemethodical school (so far dis- 
tant from yourdwcllinij) under a learned 
(though lashing^ master ; and by trans- 
planting me thence to Oxlord, to be gra- 
duated; and bo holding me still up by 
the chin until 1 could swim without blad- 
ders. This patrimony of liberal educa- 
twn you have been pleased to endow mc 
withal, I now carry along with mc 
abroad, as a sure inseparable treasure ; 
nor do I feel it any burthen or incum- 
brance unto me at all ; and what danger 
soever my person, or other things I 
have about me, do incur, yet I do not 
fear the losing of this, either by ship- 
wreck, or pirates at sea, nor by robbers, 
or lire, or any other casualty on shore : 
and at my return to England, I hope at 
leait-wise I bhall do my endeavour, that 

)ou may find this patrimony improved 
somewhat to your comfort. 

In this my peregrination, if I happen, 
by some accident, to be disappointed of 
that allowance 1 am to subsist by, I mu»^t 
make my address to you, for 1 have no 
other rendervous to fli e unto ; but it shall 
not be, unless in case of great indi- 

The latter end of this week I am to go 
a ship-board, and first for the Low Coun- 
tries. I humbly pray your blessing may 
accompany me in these my travels by 
land and sea, with a continuance of your 
prayers, which will be so many good 
gales to blow me safe to port ; for I have 
been taught, that the parent's benedic- 
tions contribute very much, and have a 
kind of prophetic virtue to make the 
child prosperous. In this opinion I shali 
ever rest} our dutiful son. 


Fro!)7 the same to Dr. Francis Mansellf 
since Principal of' Jesus College in Ox- 

Sir, London, 26th March 1618. 

T)EiN'G to take leave of England, and 
-'-^ to launch into the world abroad,^ 
to breathe fore ign air a while, I thought 
it viM-y handsome, and an act well be- 
coming me, to take my leave also of 
you, and of my dearly honoured Mother 
Oxford : otherwise both of j^ou might 
iiave just grounds to exhibit a bill of 
complaint, or rather a protest against me, 
and cry me up; you for a forgetful 
Iricnd ; she for an ungrateful son, if not 
some spurious issue. To prevent this, J 
salute y(ni both together : you with the 
best of my most candid aft'ections ; her 
with my most dutiful observance, and 
thankfulness for the milk she pleased to 
give me in that exuberance, had I taken 
it in that measure she ofi'ered it me while 
I slept in her lap : yet that little I have 
sucked, I carry with me now abroad, 
and hope that this course of life will help 
to conni ct it to a greater advantage, hav- 
ing opportunity, by the nature of my 
employment, to study men as well as 
books. The .small time I supervised the 
glass-house, 1 got among those Vene- 
tians some smatterings of the Italian 
tongue, which besides tho little I have, 
you know, of school-language, is all the 




preparatives I liave made for travel. I 
am to j;o this wi'ck down to GraM'scnd, 
and so ombark lor Holland. I have got 
H. uafrant liom tiie Lords ot" the Council 
to tra\cl for three ycait; any where, 
Home and bt. Omer's excepted. 1 pray 
let uie retain some room, though never 
bO little, in your thoyghts, during the 
time of this our separation ; and let our 
souls meet semetimes by intercourse of 
letters; I promise you that yours shall 
receive ijieljest enleriainmenl 1 can make 
them, for I love you dearly, dearly well, 
and value your liiendship at a very high 
jate. So with apprecalion of as much 
happiness to you at home, as I shall de- 
sire to accompany uie abroad, I resteer 
your friend to serve you. 


I'loiii the same to Dan. Cakh^dl, Eaq. 
J rum Amstcrdum. . 

Amsterdam, icth April 1619, 
My dear Dan, 
T HAVE made your friendship so ne- 
-^ cessary unto me for the contentment 
of my life, that happiness itself would 
be but a kind of infelicity without it : it 
is as needful to me, as fire and water, as 
the very air I take in, and brcatlic out : 
it is to me not only nccensitudo, hutnectssi- 
tis : the refore I pray let me enjoy it in 
that lair proportion, that I desire to return 
unto you, by way of correspondence and 
retaliation. Our first league of love, you 
know, was contracted among the muses 
in Oxford ; for no sooner was I matricu- 
lated to her, but I was adopted to you ; 
I became her son, and vour friind, at 
one time : you know I followed you then 
to London, where our love received con- 
jiiination in the Temple, and elsewhere. 
^^'e are now far asunder, for no les? than 
a sea severs us, and that no narrow one, 
but the German ocean ; distance some- 
limes endears friendship, and absence 
^weeteneth it ; it much enhances the 
^alue of it, and makes it more pre- 
cious. Let this be verified in us; let 
that love which formerly used to be nou- 
rished by personal communication and 
the lips, be now fed by letters; let the 
]>cn supply the office of the tongue: let- 
ters have a strong operation, they have 
I kind of art like cmbrnces to mingle 
.--uis, and make them meet, though mil- 
lions of paces asunder; by them we may 

converse, and know how it faros with 
each other as it were by intercourse ot" 
spirits. Therefore among your civil spe- 
culations, I pray letyuur thoughts some- 
times rellect on me (your alisent self,) 
and wraplhiiso thoughts in paper, and so 
send tliein me over ; I promise you they 
shall be very welcome, 1 shall embrace 
and hug them with my best aflections. 

Commend me to 'lorn Browyer, and 
enjoin him the like: 1 pray bene nig- 
gard in distributing my love plentifully 
among our friends at the inns of court; 
let Jack Toldervy have my kind coir.r 
niends, with this caveat, that the pot 
which goes often to the water, comes 
home cracked at last : therefore I ho|)e 
he will be careful how he makes the 
Fleece in Cornhill his thoroughfare too 
often. So may my dear Daniel live 
happy and love his, &c. 

L i: T T E R V. 

From the same to Mr. Richard Ahham, 
at his chamber in Grays-Inn. 

Doar Sir, Hague, 30th May, 1619. 

rpnouGH you be now a good way out 
-*■ of my reach, yet you are not out of 
my remembrance ; you are still within the 
horii;on of my love. Now the horizon of 
love is large and spacious, it is as bound- 
less as th:it of the imagination ; and 
where the imagination rangelh, the me- 
mo r}' is still busy to usher in, and present 
ths desired object it fixes upon : it is lox'c 
that sets them both on work, and may 
be said to be the highest sphere whence 
they receive their motion. Thus you ap- 
pear to me often in these foreign travels; 
and that you may believe me the better, 
I send you these lines as my ambassadors 
(and anibassa(h)is must not lie) toinforni 
you accordingly, and to salute you. 

I de.Mie to know how you like Plow- 
den ; I heard it often said, that there is 
no study requires patience and constancy 
more tiian the common law ; for it is a 
good while before one comes to any 
known perfection in it, and consequently 
to any gaintul practise. This (I thinks 
made Jack Chaundler throw away his 
Littleton, like him that, when he could 
not catch the hare, said, A pox upon 
her, she is but dry tough meat, let her 
go: it is not so with you, for I knowyc^u 
are of that disposition, that when ycu 
mind a thiim, notising can frighten you 



Book IL 

in making constant pursuit after it till 
you have obtained it: for if the mathe- 
matics with their crabbodnes? and intri- 
cacy, could not deti-r you, but that you 
waded through the very midst of thi-m, 
and arrived to so excelliMit a porfoctioii; 
I believe it is not in the power of Piow- 
den to dastardizc or cow your spirits, un- 
til you have overcoms him, at leastwise 
kave so much of him as will serve your 
turn. 1 know you were always a quick 
and pressing; disputant in loj^ic and philo- 
Sophy ; which makes me think your ge- 
nius is tit for law (as the Baron your ex- 
cellent father was), for a good logician 
makes ahva^-s a good lawyer : and hereby 
one may give a strong conjecture of the 
aptness or inaptitude of one's capacity to 
that study and profession ; and you know 
as well as I, that logicians who went un- 
der the nam