CHAPTER IX.

PLINY THE ELDER—HIS HABITS DESCRIBED BY HIS NEPHEW—HIS INDUSTRY AND APPLICATION—HIS DEATH IN THE ERUPTION OF VESUVIUS—THE ERUPTION DESCRIBED IN TWO LETTERS OF PLINY THE YOUNGER—THE NATURAL HISTORY OF PLINY—ITS SUBJECTS DESCRIBED—PLINY THE YOUNGER—HIS AFFECTION FOR HIS GUARDIAN—HIS PANEGYRIC, LETTERS, AND DESPATCHES—THAT CONCERNING THE CHRISTIANS—THE ANSWER.

C. PLINIUS SECUNDUS.

Pliny the Elder was born A. D. 23, either at Verona[1265] or Novo-Comum[1266] (Como.) As he possessed estates at the latter town, and his nephew, the younger Pliny, whom he adopted, was undoubtedly born there, it was most probably the family residence and the place of the elder Pliny’s nativity. He was educated at Rome; and serving Claudius in Germany, employed the opportunities which this campaign afforded him in travelling. Afterwards he returned to Rome and practised at the bar; filled different civil offices, amongst them that of augur, and was subsequently appointed procurator in Spain.[1267]

Some interesting particulars respecting his life and habits are contained in a letter of the younger Pliny to his friend Macer,[1268] illustrative of his studies, his temper, his thirst for knowledge, and his strict economy of time. The letter is also valuable for another reason—namely, as giving a catalogue of all the writings of his uncle. “It is a great satisfaction to me,” he writes, “that you so constantly and diligently read my uncle’s works, that you wish to possess them all, and ask me for a list of them. I will therefore perform the duty of an index; and will also tell you the order in which they were written.” He then subjoins the following titles:—(1.) The Art of using the Javelin on Horseback; composed when he was commander of cavalry in Germany. (2.) The Life of his friend Pomponius Secundus. (3.) A History of all the Wars, twenty in number, which the Romans had carried on with the Germans. This was commenced during his German campaign, in obedience to the suggestions of a dream:—“There appeared to him whilst sleeping the shade of Drusus; commended his memory to his care, and besought him to rescue it from undeserved oblivion.” In accordance with his superstitious and credulous temper, he obeyed the call of his supernatural visitant. (4.) A treatise on Eloquence, entitled “Studiosus,” in three books, but subdivided, on account of its length, into six volumes. In it he traces the education of an orator from the very cradle. (5.) Eight books on Grammatical Ambiguity, which he wrote during the reign of Nero, a period when imperial tyranny rendered studies of a freer kind too perilous. (6.) Thirty books in continuation of the History of Aufidius Bassus, dedicated to the Emperor Titus.[1269] (7.) Thirty-seven books on Natural History—a work, not only, as Pliny the Younger describes it, as full of variety as Nature herself, but, as will be shown hereafter, a treasure-house of the arts, as well as of natural objects.

“You will wonder,” he continues, “how a man occupied with official business could have completed so many volumes filled with such minute information. You will be still more surprised to learn that he practised sometimes as a pleader; that he died in his fifty-sixth year; and that the intermediate time was distracted and interrupted by the friendship of princes and most important public affairs. But he was a man of vigorous intellect, incredible application, and unwearied activity. Immediately after the festival of the Vulcanalia (August 23d,) he used to begin to study in the dead of the night; in the winter at one o’clock in the morning, at the latest at two, often at midnight. No one ever slept so little—sometimes he would snatch a brief interval of sleep in the midst of his studies. Before dawn he would wait upon the Emperor, for he also used the night for transacting business. Thence he proceeded to the discharge of his official duties; and whatever time remained he devoted to study.

“After a light and frugal meal, which, according to the old fashion, he partook of by day, he would in summer, if he had any leisure time, recline in the sun whilst a book was read to him, from which he took notes and made extracts. In fact, he never read any book without making extracts; for he used to say that no book was so bad but that some profit could be derived from it. After sunset he generally took a cold bath, then a slight repast, and afterwards slept for a very short time. When he awoke, as if it were a new day, he studied till supper; during which a book was read, on which he made annotations as the reading proceeded. I remember that one of his friends interrupted the reader, because he had mispronounced a word, and compelled him to repeat it; upon which my uncle asked, ‘Did you understand him?’ and when he answered in the affirmative, he continued—‘Why did you interrupt him? we have lost more than ten lines;’—so frugal was he of his time. In summer he rose from the supper-table by daylight, in winter at nightfall; and this custom was a law to him.

“These were his habits amidst the toils and bustle of a town-life. In the retirement of the country the bath was the only interruption to his studies. But only the bath itself, for whilst he was rubbed and wiped dry, he either dictated to an amanuensis or had a book read to him. On journeys, as he was then relieved from all other cares, study was the only employment of his leisure. He had a precis-writer at his side, with books and tablets, who in the winter wore gloves, so that his master’s studies might not be interrupted by the severity of the cold. For the same reason, when at Rome, he always used a sedan. I remember once having been chid by him for walking: ‘You might,’ said he, ‘avoid wasting all this time.’ For he thought all time was lost which was not devoted to study. By this intense application he completed so many volumes, and bequeathed to me, besides, one hundred and sixty rolls of commentaries, written in the smallest possible hand and on both sides. He used to say that when he was procurator in Spain, he was offered for a portion of them 400,000 sesterces (about 3,200_l._) by Lartius Licinius.... I cannot help laughing when people call me studious, for, compared with him, I am the idlest fellow in the world.”

Pliny perished a martyr to the cause of science, in the terrible eruption of Vesuvius, which took place in the first year of the reign of Titus.[1270] Had he been as ardent an original observer in all other respects, instead of a mere plodding student, and collector, and transcriber of other men’s observations, his works would have been less voluminous, but more valuable. The eruption in which he perished was the first of which there is any record in history. It is probable that none of any consequence had occurred before; and that the lava had never before devastated the smiling slopes and green vineyards which Martial has described.[1271] The circumstances of his death are thus described by his nephew[1272] in two letters to Tacitus:—“He was at Misenum, in command of the fleet. On the 24th of August, about one o’clock P. M., my mother pointed out to him a cloud of unusual size and appearance. He had lain in the sunshine, bathed, and taken refreshment, and was now studying. He forthwith asked for his shoes; and ascended an eminence from which he could best see the phenomenon. The distance was too great to know for certain from what mountain the cloud arose, but it was afterwards ascertained to be Vesuvius. Its form resembled that of a pine tree more than anything else. It rose into the air in the form of a tall trunk, and then diffused itself like spreading branches. The reason of this I take to be that it was at first carried upwards by a fresh current of air, which as it grew older and weaker was unable to support it, or perhaps its own gravity caused it to vanish in a horizontal direction. Sometimes it was white, sometimes solid and spotted, according to the quantity of earth and ashes which it threw up.

“The phenomenon appeared to him, as a learned man, deserving of closer investigation. He ordered a light galley to be fitted out, and gave me permission to accompany him. I replied that I preferred studying, and as it chanced he himself had given me something to write. Just as he was leaving the house with his note-book in his hand, the troops stationed at Retina, a village at the foot of the mountain, from which there was no escape except by sea, alarmed by the imminent peril they were in, sent to entreat him to rescue them. Notwithstanding this circumstance his determination was unaltered; but the task which he had commenced with earnestness he went through with the greatest resolution.

“He launched some quadriremes, and embarked for the purpose of assisting, not Retina only, but others; for the beauty of the coast had attracted a large population. He hastened to the spot whence others were flying, and steered a direct course to the point of danger, so fearlessly that he observed all the phases and forms of that sad calamity, and dictated his remarks on them to his secretary. Soon ashes fell on the decks, and the nearer he approached the hotter and thicker they became. With them were mingled scorched and blackened pumice-stones, and stones split by fire. Now the sudden reflux of the sea, and the fragments of the volcano which covered the coast, presented an obstacle to his progress, and he hesitated for awhile whether he should not return. At length, when his sailing-master recommended him to do so, he exclaimed, ‘Fortune favours the brave—steer for the villa of Pomponianus.’

“This was situated at Stabiæ, and was divided from the coast near Vesuvius by an inlet or gulf formed by the sea. His friend, although danger was not yet imminent, yet, as it was within sight, and would be very near if it increased, had put his baggage on board of a ship, and had determined on flight if the wind, which was then contrary, should lull. A fair wind carried my uncle thither. He embraced his trembling friend, consoled and encouraged him. In order to assuage his fears by showing his own unconcern, he caused himself to be carried to a bath: after bathing, he sat down to supper with cheerfulness, or, what is almost the same thing, with the appearance of it. Meanwhile from many parts of the volcano broad flames burst forth: the blaze was reflected from the sky, and the glare and brightness were enhanced by the darkness of the night. He, to soothe the alarm of Pomponianus, endeavoured to persuade him that what he saw was only the burning villages which the country people had deserted in their consternation. He then retired to rest and slept soundly; for his snoring, which on account of his broad chest was deep and resonant, was heard by those who were watching at the door.

“Soon the court through which there was access to his apartment was so choked with cinders and pumice that longer delay would have rendered escape impossible. He was awakened; and went to Pomponianus and the rest, who had sat up all night. They then held a consultation whether they should remain in the house or go into the open fields. For repeated shocks of an earthquake made the houses rock to and fro, and seemed to move them from their foundations; whilst in the air the fall of half-burnt pumice, though light, menaced danger. After balancing the two dangers, he chose the latter course: with him, however, it was a comparison of reasons, with others of fears. They tied cushions over their heads with towels, to protect them from the falling stones. Although it was now day elsewhere, the darkness here was denser than the darkest night, broken only by torches and lights of different kinds. They next walked out to the coast to see whether the sea was calm enough to venture upon it, but it was still a waste of stormy waters. Then he spread a linen cloth and lay down upon it, asked for two or three draughts of cold water; and, afterwards, flames, and that sulphureous smell which is the forerunner of them, put his companions to flight and aroused him.

“He arose by the assistance of two slaves, and immediately fell down dead, suffocated as I imagine by the dense vapour, and the functions of his stomach being disordered, which were naturally weak, and liable to obstructions and difficulty of digestion. On the morning of the third day after his body was found entire, uninjured, and in the clothes in which he died: its appearance was rather that of sleep than death.”

Pliny the Younger was left with his mother at Misenum; and in another letter he gives an account of the appearance of the eruption at that place:[1273]—

“After my uncle’s departure, I spent some time in study (for that was my object in remaining behind:) I then bathed and supped, and had some broken and restless sleep. For many days previously shocks of an earthquake had been felt; but they caused less alarm because they are usual in Campania; but on that night they were so violent that it was thought they would not only shake but overturn everything. My mother burst into my bed-chamber—I was just rising in order to arouse her, in case she should be asleep. We sat down in the court which divided the house from the sea. I know not whether to call this courage or imprudence, for I was only in my eighteenth year. I asked for a volume of Livy, and began to read it leisurely and to make extracts.

“Well! a friend of my uncle came in who had lately arrived from Spain, and when he saw us sitting together, and me reading, he rebuked his patience and my ‘insouciance.’ Still I was not the less for that absorbed in my book. It was now seven o’clock, and the dawn broke faintly and languidly. The surrounding buildings were tottering; and the space in which we were, being limited in extent, there was great reason to fear their fall. We then resolved to leave town. The populace followed in alarm.

“When at a sufficient distance from the buildings we halted, and witnessed many a wonderful and alarming phenomenon. The carriages which we had ordered to be brought out, although the ground was very level, rolled in different directions, and even stones placed under the wheels could not stop them. The sea ebbed and seemed to be repelled by the earthquake. The coast certainly had advanced, and detained many marine animals on dry land. On the other side of the heavens hung a dark and awful cloud, riven by wreathed and quivering lines of fiery vapour, in long flashes resembling lightning, but larger. Then our friend from Spain exclaimed, with eagerness and vehemence, ‘If your relative lives, he doubtless wishes your safety; if he has perished, he wished you to survive him. Why then do you delay to escape?’ Our answer was, ‘We will not think of our own safety so long as we are uncertain of his.’ Without any more delay he hurried off, and was soon beyond the reach of danger. Soon the cloud descended to the earth, and brooded over the sea; it shrouded Capreæ, and hid from our eyes the promontory of Misenum. My mother besought, entreated, nay, commanded me to fly by all means; she felt that, weighed down by years and infirmity, she should die contented if she had not been the cause of my death. I, on the other hand, persisted that I would not seek safety except with her. I took her by the hand and forced her to go forward. She obeyed reluctantly, and blamed herself for delaying me. Ashes now began to fall, though as yet in small quantities. I looked back; behind us was thick darkness, which poured over the earth like a torrent. ‘Let us turn aside from the road,’ said I, ‘whilst we can see, for fear we should be thrown down and trampled under foot by the crowd in the darkness.’ We had scarce time to [think about it] [sit down] when we were enveloped in darkness, not like that of a moonless night, or clouds, but like that of a room shut up when the lights are extinguished. Then were heard the shrieks of women, the wailings of infants, the shouts of men; some were calling for their parents, others for their children, others for their wives, whom they could only recognise by their voices. Some bewailed their own misfortune, others that of their family; some even from the fear of death prayed for death. Many lifted up their hands to the gods; still more believed that there were no gods, and that the last eternal night had overwhelmed the world. There were not wanting some to increase the real danger by fictitious and imaginary terrors; and some brought word that the conflagration was at Misenum: the false intelligence met with credence. By degrees the light returned; but it seemed to us not the return of day, but the indication that the fire was approaching. Its progress, however, was arrested at some distance: again darkness succeeded with showers of ashes. Every now and then we got up and shook them off from us, otherwise we should have been overwhelmed and bruised by their weight. I might boast that not a groan or unmanly expression escaped me in the midst of my dangers, were it not that my firmness was founded on the consolatory belief that all mankind was involved, together with myself, in one common ruin. At length the darkness cleared up, and dispersed like smoke or mist. Real daylight succeeded; even the sun shone forth, but with a lurid light as when eclipsed. The aspect of everything which met our astonished eyes was changed: ashes covered the ground like a deep snow. We returned to Misenum, and refreshed ourselves, and passed an anxious night in alternate hopes and fears: the latter, however, predominated. The earthquake still continued; and many, in a state of frenzy, made a mockery of their own and their neighbours’ misfortunes by terrific prophecies.” The above letters, though long, have been quoted because they detail, in the most interesting manner, the circumstances of the elder Pliny’s death, and at the same time illustrate the simple and graphic power of the nephew’s pen.

The Natural Philosophy of Pliny is, to say the least, an unequalled monument of studious diligence and persevering industry. It consists of thirty-seven books, and contains, according to his own account,[1274] 20,000 facts (as he believed them to be) connected with nature and art: the result, not of original research, but, as he honestly confessed, culled from the labours of other men. It must, however, be allowed that the confused arrangement is owing partly to the indefinite state of science, and the consequent mingling together of branches which are separate and distinct.[1275]

Owing to the extent and variety of his reading, his credulous love of the marvellous, and his want of judgment in comparing and selecting, he does not present us with a correct view of the degree of truth to which science had attained in his own age. He does not show how one age had corrected the errors of a preceding one; but reproduces errors, evidently obsolete and inconsistent with facts and theories which had grown up afterwards and replaced them.

With him mythological traditions appear to have almost the same authority as modern discoveries. The earth teems with monsters, not miracles, or exceptions to the regular order of nature, but specimens of her ingenuity. In his theory of the universe he assumes such causes and principles as lead him to admit, without question, the existence of prodigies, however impossible they may be. They are wonderful because unusual; but they are effects which might result from the natural causes which he believed to be in operation. His theory, that Nature acted not only by regular laws but often by actual interferences, (for this was the character of his pantheism, ii. 5, 7,)—his belief that the various germs of created things were scattered in profusion throughout the universe, and accidentally mingling in confusion produced monstrous forms, (3)—prepared him to consider nothing incredible (xi. 3;) and his temper inclined him to go further, and to admit almost every thing which was credible as true.[1276]

Deficient as the work is in scientific value and philosophical arrangement, the author evidently wished to stamp it with a character of practical utility. It is an encyclopædia of the knowledge which could be brought together from different sources; and for such a work there are two important requisites—facility of reference, and the citation of authorities. With this view the whole is preceded by a summary, and to each book is added a table of contents, together with the names of authors to whom he is indebted.

The work commences with the theory of the universe;[1277] the history and science of astronomy; meteorological phenomena; and the geological changes which have taken place on the earth by volcanic and aqueous action. Geography, both physical and political, occupy the four next books.[1278] Here truth and error are mingled in dire confusion. Accounts which are based solely on the traditions of remote antiquity are given side by side with the results of modern investigation, and yet no distinction is drawn as to authenticity; and, owing to his confusing together such different accounts, measurements and distances are generally wrong.

But in the zoological division of the work, which next follows,[1279] he gives unrestrained scope to his credulity and love of the marvellous. He tells of men whose feet were turned backwards; of others whose feet were so large as to shade them when they lay in the sun. He describes beings in whom both sexes were united; others in whom a change of sex had taken place; others without mouths, who fed on the fragrance of fruits and flowers.[1280] Such are some of the marvels of the human race recorded by him. Amongst the lower animals he enumerates horned horses furnished with wings;[1281] the Mantichora, with the face of a man, three rows of teeth, a lion’s body, and a scorpion’s tail;[1282] the unicorn with a stag’s head, a horse’s body, the feet of an elephant, and the tail of a boar;[1283] the basilisk, whose very glance is fatal. The seas are peopled not only with sea-goats and sea-elephants, but with real Nereids and Tritons.[1284] Mice, according to his account, produce their young by licking each other; and fire produces an insect (pyralis) which cannot live except in the midst of the flames.

Sixteen books[1285] are devoted to botany, both general and medical; and the medicinal properties of the human frame, and of other animal substances, as well as of different waters, are next discussed.[1286] An account of minerals and metals concludes the work; and this portion embraces an account of their various uses in the fine arts, intermingled with interesting anecdotes and histories of art and artists. This is the most valuable as well as the most pleasing section of the work.

He was pre-eminently a collector of stories and anecdotes and supposed facts, and he was only accidentally a naturalist, because natural history furnished the most extensive variety of marvellous and curious materials. The naturalist, Cuvier,[1287] observed his want of judgment, his credulity, his defective arrangement, and the inappropriate nature of his observations. Notwithstanding all these faults this elaborate work contains many valuable truths, much entertaining information, and the style in which it is written is, when not too florid, full of vigour and expression. The philosophical belief can scarcely be considered that of any particular school, although tinctured by the prevalent Stoicism of the day; but its pervading character is querulous and melancholy. Believing that nature is an all-powerful principle, and the world or universe itself, instinct with Deity, he saw more of evil than of good in the Divine dispensations; and the result was a gloomy and discontented pantheism.

PLINY THE YOUNGER (BORN A. D. 61.)

C. Plinius Cæcilius Secundus was sister’s son to the elder Pliny. Most of the information which we possess respecting his life and character is derived from his letters. He was born at Novo-Comum, on the Lake Larius (Como;) and as he was in his eighteenth year[1288] at the time of the eruption of Vesuvius, which took place A. D. 79, the date of his birth must have been A. D. 61.

On the death of his father, C. Cæcilius, he was adopted by his uncle, and therefore took the name of Plinius. He was educated under the guardianship of Virginius Rufus, who felt for him the affection of a parent. The regard was evidently mutual. “I loved him,” writes Pliny to Voconius,[1289] with that tenderness which so frequently adorns his letters, especially those to his wife Calphurnia, “as much as I admired him;” and he thus concludes his letter: “I had wished to write to you on many other subjects, but my thoughts are fully occupied on this one subject of contemplation. I see, I think of no one but Virginius. In fancy I seem to hear his voice, to address him, to hold him in my arms. We may perhaps have, and shall continue to have, men equal to him in virtue, but no one equal to him in glory.” In belles-lettres and eloquence[1290] he attended constantly the lectures of Quintilian and Nicetes Sacerdos, of whom favourable mention is made by Seneca.[1291]

Under the care of such tutors and such an uncle, his literary tastes were cultivated early, and before he had completed his fifteenth year he gave proof of his love of poetry, by writing what he modestly says _was called_ a Greek tragedy. This taste for poetry remained to him in after life: once when weather-bound at the island of Icaria, he celebrated the event in an elegiac poem. He wrote hexameters, of which he gives a short specimen, and also a birth-day ode in hendecasyllables, and he tells us he wrote with quickness and facility.[1292]

He was called to the bar in his nineteenth year, and attained great celebrity as a pleader.[1293] He stood high in favour with Trajan; and filled with distinction high offices, both military and civil. He was military tribune in Syria; and besides being prætor and consul at home, he served as procurator of the province of Bithynia abroad. He was gentle, liberal, refined, and benevolent; and his zeal for the interests of literature, and his wish that the youths of Como might not be forced to resort to Milan for education, but might owe that blessing to their native place,[1294] led him to offer help in founding a school, in forming a public library, and in establishing exhibitions for ingenuous students.[1295] He thought with justice, such acts of munificence nobler than gaudy spectacles and barbarous shows of gladiators.

His works consist of a Panegyric on Trajan and a collection of Letters in ten books. The Panegyric is a piece of courtly flattery, for the fulsomeness of which the only defence which can be made, is the cringing and fawning manners of his times. It was written and delivered in the year in which he was consul.[1296] The Letters are very valuable, not only for the insight which they give into his own character, but also into the manners and modes of thought of his illustrious contemporaries, as well as the politics of the day. Many of them bear evident marks of having been expressly intended for publication. This of course detracts from their value as fresh and truthful exponents of the writer’s thoughts, which all letters ought to be; but they are most delightful to read, and for liveliness, descriptive power, elegance and simplicity of style, are scarcely inferior to those of Cicero, whom he evidently took for his model.

The tenth book, which consists of his despatches to Trajan, together with the Emperor’s rescripts, will be read with the greatest interest; and the notices of public affairs contained in them are most valuable to the historian. The despatch respecting the Christians, written from Bithynia, A. D. 104, and the Emperor’s answer,[1297] are well worthy of transcription; both because reference is so often made to them, and because they throw light upon the marvellous and rapid propagation of the gospel; the manners of the early Christians; the treatment to which their constancy exposed them, even under favourable circumstances, and the severe jealousy with which even a governor of mild and gentle temper thought it his duty to regard them. “It is my constant practice, sire, to refer to you all subjects on which I entertain doubt. For who is better able to direct my hesitation or to instruct my ignorance? I have never been present at the trials of Christians, and therefore I do not know in what way, or to what extent, it is usual to question or to punish them. I have also felt no small difficulty in deciding whether age should make any difference, or whether those of the tenderest and those of mature years should be treated alike; whether pardon should be accorded to repentance, or whether, where a man has once been a Christian, recantation should profit him; whether, if the name of Christian does not imply criminality, still the crimes peculiarly belonging to the name should be punished. Meanwhile, in the case of those against whom informations have been laid before me, I have pursued the following line of conduct. I have put to them, personally, the question whether they were Christians. If they confessed, I interrogated them a second and third time, and threatened them with punishment. If they still persevered, I ordered their commitment; for I had no doubt whatever that, whatever they confessed, at any rate dogged and inflexible obstinacy deserved to be punished. There were others who displayed similar madness; but, as they were Roman citizens, I ordered them to be sent back to the city. Soon persecution itself, as is generally the case, caused the crime to spread, and it appeared in new forms. An anonymous information was laid against a large number of persons, but they deny that they are, or ever have been, Christians. As they invoked the gods, repeating the form after me, and offered prayers, together with incense and wine, to your image, which I had ordered to be brought, together with those of the deities, and besides cursed Christ, whilst those who are true Christians, it is said, cannot be compelled to do any one of these things, I thought it right to set them at liberty. Others, when accused by an informer, confessed that they were Christians, and soon after denied the fact; they said they had been, but had ceased to be, some three, some more, not a few even twenty years previously. All these worshipped your image and those of the gods, and cursed Christ. But they affirmed that the sum total of their fault or their error was, that they were accustomed to assemble on a fixed day before dawn, and sing an antiphonal hymn to Christ as God: that they bound themselves by an oath, not to the commission of any wickedness, but to abstain from theft, robbery, and adultery; never to break a promise, or to deny a deposit when it was demanded back. When these ceremonies were concluded, it was their custom to depart, and again assemble together to take food harmlessly and in common. That after my proclamation, in which, in obedience to your command, I had forbidden associations, they had desisted from this practice. For these reasons I the more thought it necessary to investigate the real truth, by putting to the torture two maidens, who were called deaconesses; but I discovered nothing but a perverse and excessive superstition. I have therefore deferred taking cognizance of the matter until I had consulted you. For it seemed to me a case requiring advice, especially on account of the number of those in peril. For many of every age, sex, and rank, are and will continue to be called in question. The infection, in fact, has spread not only through the cities, but also through the villages and open country; but it seems that its progress can be arrested. At any rate, it is clear that the temples which were almost deserted begin to be frequented; and solemn sacrifices, which had been long intermitted, are again performed, and victims are being sold everywhere, for which up to this time a purchaser could rarely be found. It is therefore easy to conceive that crowds might be reclaimed if an opportunity for repentance were given.”

_Trajan to Pliny._

“In sifting the cases of those who have been indicted on the charge of Christianity, you have adopted, my dear Secundus, the right course of proceeding; for no certain rule can be laid down which will meet all cases. They must not be sought after, but if they are informed against and convicted, they must be punished; with this proviso, however, that if any one denies that he is a Christian, and proves the point by offering prayers to our deities, notwithstanding the suspicions under which he has laboured, he shall be pardoned on his repentance. On no account should any anonymous charge be attended to, for it would be the worst possible precedent, and is inconsistent with the habits of our times.”

Pliny’s accurate and judicious mind, his political and administrative prudence, his taste for the beautiful, his power of description, his unrivalled neatness, his skill in investing with a peculiar interest every subject he takes in hand, may be amply proved by a perusal of his Letters. His touches are neither too many nor too few. A mere note of thanks for a present of thrushes[1298] shows as much skill, in its way, as his numerous elaborate despatches to the Emperor.[1299] His brief biographical notice of Silius Italicus contains, in a few short sentences, all that can be said favourably of the life and character of his correspondent. The sympathy which he felt for his friends, as well as the delicacy of his panegyric, are exhibited in the few lines which he penned to Germinius on the death of the wife of Macrinus;[1300] his honesty in the case of the inheritance of Pomponia;[1301] his legal skill in passages too numerous to specify; his descriptive power in the narrative of the eruption of Vesuvius,[1302] in which his uncle perished; and in the full and minute description of his villa, its rooms, furniture, works of art, garden, and surrounding scenery.