Letter 100

[1] You write that you read with the greatest eagerness the books of Fabianus Papirius entitled On Civil Affairs, and that they did not live up to your expectation; then, forgetting that the man in question is a philosopher, you take his composition to task. Suppose it is as you say, and that his words are poured out rather than set in place. In the first place, that very quality has its own charm, and there is a beauty proper to a style that glides along gently; for I think it makes a great deal of difference whether something has fallen out by accident or has flowed. Add now that, even in the very point I am about to make, there is an enormous difference: [2] Fabianus seems to me not to pour out his prose but to make it flow; so abundant is it, and free of disorder, yet not without momentum as it comes. This much it plainly admits and even advertises: that it was not labored over nor long twisted into shape. But let us grant, as you wish, that it is so: that man composed his character, not his words, and wrote these things for minds, not for ears. [3] Besides, while he was actually speaking, you would have had no leisure to examine the parts, so completely would the whole have swept you away; and as a rule the things that please by their rush deliver less when brought back into the hand to be examined. But this too counts for much, to have seized the eyes at first glance, even if careful contemplation is going to find something to fault. [4] If you ask me, the man who has carried off your judgment is greater than the one who has earned it; and I know that the latter is safer, I know that he can promise himself more boldly about the future. An anxious style does not suit a philosopher: where, in the end, will the man be brave and steadfast, where will he run any risk on his own account, if he is afraid of words? [5] Fabianus was not careless in his style, but unconcerned. And so you will find nothing squalid: the words are chosen, not hunted for, nor placed and inverted against their own nature in the fashion of this age, yet they are splendid even though they are taken from common stock. The thoughts you have are honorable and grand, not forced into an epigram but expressed more amply. We shall notice what is too little pruned, what is too little built up, what does not have this recent polish: but when you have looked over everything, you will see no empty narrow corners. [6] Let there be lacking, by all means, a variety of marbles, and channels of water running between bedchambers, and a 'pauper's cell' [an austere little room fashionable among the wealthy], and whatever else luxury, not content with simple beauty, mixes in: as the saying goes, the house is sound. Add now that there is no agreement about composition: some want it to be neatly trimmed out of roughness; some delight in harshness to such a degree that they deliberately break apart even what chance has unfolded more smoothly, and snap off the clauses so that they may not answer to expectation. [7] Read Cicero: his composition is uniform, it bends its rhythm pliantly and is soft without disgrace. But on the other hand the composition of Asinius Pollio is rough and full of leaps, and ready to drop you where you least expect it. In short, with Cicero everything comes to a close, with Pollio it falls away, except for a very few passages that are bound to a fixed measure and a single pattern. [8] You say, moreover, that everything seems to you lowly and insufficiently elevated: a fault from which I judge him free. For those passages are not lowly but placid, and shaped to the quiet and composed temper of his mind; not sunk down but level. They lack the orator's vigor and the goads you are looking for, and the sudden strokes of epigrams; but the whole body of his work, you will see how well-arranged it is, is honorable. His style does not possess dignity, but it will confer it. [9] Bring forward someone you can place ahead of Fabianus. Name Cicero, whose books pertaining to philosophy are almost as many as those of Fabianus: I will yield, but a thing is not at once trivial if it is somewhat less than the greatest. Name Asinius Pollio: I will yield, and we may answer: in so great a matter, to stand out is to be behind two men. Name Titus Livius as well; for he wrote both dialogues, which you could no more reckon to philosophy than to history, and books that contain philosophy by express profession: to him too I will grant a place. Yet see how many he outstrips, this man who is beaten only by three, and by three of the most eloquent. [10] But he does not provide everything: his style is not forceful, however elevated it may be; it is not violent or torrential, however much it flows out; it is not transparent, but it is pure. 'You would want,' you say, 'something said sharply against the vices, courageously against dangers, proudly against Fortune, contemptuously against ambition. I want luxury to be rebuked, lust to be paraded in disgrace, unrestraint to be broken. Let there be something keen in the manner of oratory, grand in the manner of tragedy, slight in the manner of comedy.' You want him to sit down to a trifling thing, words: he has bound himself over to the greatness of his subject matter, and drags eloquence behind him like a shadow, not making it his business. [11] No doubt the individual phrases will not be carefully examined nor gathered into themselves, nor will every word rouse and prick you, I admit; many will pass out without striking home, and at times the prose will glide idly by; but there will be much light in all of it, and a vast expanse without tedium. Finally, it will provide this: that it is clear to you he felt what he wrote. You will understand that the aim was that you should know what pleased him, not that he should please you. Everything tends toward progress, toward a sound mind: applause is not sought. [12] I do not doubt that his writings are such, even though I recall them more than I retain them, and the impression of them clings to me not from a recent and familiar acquaintance but in outline, as usually happens with an old familiarity; certainly, when I used to hear him, they seemed to me to be of this kind: not solid but full, the sort that would lift up a young man of good natural gifts and call him to imitate them without despairing of surpassing them, which seems to me the most effective encouragement of all. For the man who creates a desire to imitate, while taking away hope, only discourages. For the rest, he abounded in words, magnificent on the whole without the commendation of the individual parts. Farewell.

You write me that you have read with the greatest eagerness the work by Fabianus Papirius entitled The Duties of a Citizen, and that it did not come up to your expectations; then, forgetting that you are dealing with a philosopher, you proceed to criticize his style. Suppose, now, that your statement is true—that he pours forth rather than places his words; let me, however, tell you at the start that this trait of which you speak has a peculiar charm, and that it is a grace appropriate to a smoothly-gliding style. For, I maintain, it matters a great deal whether it tumbles forth, or flows along. Moreover, there is a deal of difference in this regard also—as I shall make clear to you: Fabianus seems to me to have not so much an “efflux” as a “flow” of words: so copious is it, without confusion, and yet not without speed. This is indeed what his style declares and announces—that he has not spent a long time in working his matter over and twisting it into shape. But even supposing the facts are as you would have them; the man was building up character rather than words, and was writing those words for the mind rather than for the ear. Besides, had he been speaking them in his own person, you would not have had time to consider the details—the whole work would have so swept you along. For as a rule that which pleases by its swiftness is of less value when taken in hand for reading. Nevertheless, this very quality, too, of attracting at first sight is a great advantage, no matter whether careful investigation may discover something to criticize. If you ask me, I should say that he who has forced approval is greater than he who has earned it; and yet I know that the latter is safer, I know that he can give more confident guarantees for the future. A meticulous manner of writing does not suit the philosopher; if he is timid as to words, when will he ever be brave and steadfast, when will he ever really show his worth? Fabianus’s style was not careless, it was assured. That is why you will find nothing shoddy in his work: his words are well chosen and yet not hunted for; they are not unnaturally inserted and inverted, according to the present-day fashion; but they possess distinction, even though they are taken from ordinary speech. There you have honourable and splendid ideas, not fettered into aphorisms, but spoken with greater freedom. We shall of course notice passages that are not sufficiently pruned, not constructed with sufficient care, and lacking the polish which is in vogue nowadays; but after regarding the whole, you will see that there are no futile subtleties of argument. There may, doubtless, be no variety of marbles, no water-supply which flows from one apartment to another, no “pauper-rooms,” or any other device that luxury adds when ill content with simple charms; but, in the vulgar phrase, it is “a good house to live in.” Furthermore, opinions vary with regard to the style. Some wish it to be polished down from all roughness; and some take so great a pleasure in the abrupt manner that they would intentionally break up any passage which may by chance spread itself out more smoothly, scattering the closing words in such a way that the sentences may result unexpectedly. Read Cicero: his style has unity; it moves with a modulated pace, and is gentle without being degenerate. The style of Asinius Pollio, on the other hand, is “bumpy,” jerky, leaving off when you least expect it. And finally, Cicero always stops gradually; while Pollio breaks off, except in the very few cases where he cleaves to a definite rhythm and a single pattern. In addition to this, you say that everything in Fabianus seems to you commonplace and lacking in elevation; but I myself hold that he is free from such a fault. For that style of his is not commonplace, but simply calm and adjusted to his peaceful and well-ordered mind—not on a low level but on an even plane. There is lacking the verve and spur of the orator (for which you are looking), and a sudden shock of epigrams. But look, please, at the whole work, how well-ordered it is: there is a distinction in it. His style does not possess, but will suggest, dignity. Mention someone whom you may rank ahead of Fabianus. Cicero, let us say, whose books on philosophy are almost as numerous as those of Fabianus. I will concede this point; but it is no slight thing to be less than the greatest. Or Asinius Pollio, let us say. I will yield again, and content myself by replying: “It is a distinction to be third in so great a field.” You may also include Livy; for Livy wrote both dialogues (which should be ranked as history no less than as philosophy), and works which professedly deal with philosophy. I shall yield in the case of Livy also. But consider how many writers Fabianus outranks, if he is surpassed by three only—and those three the greatest masters of eloquence! But, it may be said, he does not offer everything: though his style is elevated, it is not strong; though it flows forth copiously, it lacks force and sweep; it is not translucent, but it is lucid. “One would fail,” you urge, “to find therein any rugged denunciation of vice, any courageous words in the face of danger, any proud defiance of Fortune, any scornful threats against self-seeking. I wish to see luxury rebuked, lust condemned, waywardness crushed out. Let him show us the keenness of oratory, the loftiness of tragedy, the subtlety of comedy.” You wish him to rely on that pettiest of things, phraseology; but he has sworn allegiance to the greatness of his subject and draws eloquence after him as a sort of shadow, but not of set purpose. Our author will doubtless not investigate every detail, nor subject it to analysis, nor inspect and emphasize each separate word. This I admit. Many phrases will fall short, or will fail to strike home, and at times the style will slip along indolently; but there will be plenty of light throughout the work; there will be long stretches which will not weary the reader. And, finally, he will offer this quality of making it clear to you that he meant what he wrote. You will understand that his aim was to have you know what pleased him, rather than that he should please you. All his work makes for progress and for sanity, without any search for applause. I do not doubt that his writings are of the kind I have described, although I am harking back to him rather than retaining a sure memory of him, and although the general tone of his writings remains in my mind, not from a careful and recent perusal, but in outline, as is natural after an acquaintance of long ago. But certainly, whenever I heard him lecture, such did his work seem to me—not solid but full, the kind which would inspire young men of promise and rouse their ambition to become like him, without making them hopeless of surpassing him; and this method of encouragement seems to me the most helpful of all. For it is disheartening to inspire in a man the desire, and to take away from him the hope, of emulation. At any rate, his language was fluent, and though one might not approve every detail, the general effect was noble. Farewell.

[1] Fabiani Papiri libros qui inscribuntur civilium legisse te cupidissime scribis, et non respondisse expectationi tuae; deinde oblitus de philosopho agi compositionem eius accusas. Puta esse quod dicis et effundi verba, non figi. Primum habet ista res suam gratiam et est decor proprius orationis leniter lapsae; multum enim interesse existimo utrum exciderit an fluxerit. <Adice> nunc quod in hoc quoque quod dicturus sum ingens differentia est: [2] Fabianus mihi non effundere videtur orationem sed fundere; adeo larga est et sine perturbatione, non sine cursu tamen veniens. Illud plane fatetur et praefert, non esse tractatam nec diu tortam. Sed ita, ut vis, esse credamus: mores ille, non verba composuit et animis scripsit ista, non auribus. [3] Praeterea ipso dicente non vacasset tibi partes intueri, adeo te summa rapuisset; et fere quae impetu placent minus praestant ad manum relata; sed illud quoque multum est, primo aspectu oculos occupasse, etiam si contemplatio diligens inventura est quod arguat. [4] Si me interrogas, maior ille est qui iudicium abstulit quam qui meruit; et scio hunc tutiorem esse, scio audacius sibi de futuro promittere. Oratio sollicita philosophum non decet: ubi tandem erit fortis et constans, ubi periculum sui faciet qui timet verbis? [5] Fabianus non erat neglegens in oratione sed securus. Itaque nihil invenies sordidum: electa verba sunt, non captata, nec huius saeculi more contra naturam suam posita et inversa, splendida tamen quamvis sumantur e medio. Sensus honestos et magnificos habes, non coactos in sententiam sed latius dictos. Videbimus quid parum recisum sit, quid parum structum, quid non huius recentis politurae: cum circumspexeris omnia, nullas videbis angustias inanis. [6] Desit sane varietas marmorum et concisura aquarum cubiculis interfluentium et pauperis cella et quidquid aliud luxuria non contenta decore simplici miscet: quod dici solet, domus recta est. Adice nunc quod de compositione non constat: quidam illam volunt esse ex horrido comptam, quidam usque eo aspera gaudent ut etiam quae mollius casus explicuit ex industria dissipent et clausulas abrumpant ne ad expectatum respondeant. [7] Lege Ciceronem: compositio eius una est, pedem curvat lenta et sine infamia mollis. At contra Pollionis Asinii salebrosa et exiliens et ubi minime expectes relictura. Denique omnia apud Ciceronem desinunt, apud Pollionem cadunt, exceptis paucissimis quae ad certum modum et ad unum exemplar adstricta sunt. [8] Humilia praeterea tibi videri dicis omnia et parum erecta: quo vitio carere eum iudico. Non sunt enim illa humilia sed placida et ad animi tenorem quietum compositumque formata, nec depressa sed plana. Deest illis oratorius vigor stimulique quos quaeris et subiti ictus sententiarum; sed totum corpus, videris quam sit comptum, honestum est. Non habet oratio eius sed dabit dignitatem. [9] Adfer quem Fabiano possis praeponere. Dic Ciceronem, cuius libri ad philosophiam pertinentes paene totidem sunt quot Fabiani: cedam, sed non statim pusillum est si quid maximo minus est. Dic Asinium Pollionem: cedam, et respondeamus: in re tanta eminere est post duos esse. Nomina adhuc T. Livium; scripsit enim et dialogos, quos non magis philosophiae adnumerare possis quam historiae, et ex professo philosophiam continentis libros: huic quoque dabo locum. Vide tamen quam multos antecedat qui a tribus vincitur et tribus eloquentissimis. [10] Sed non praestat omnia: non est fortis oratio eius, quamvis elata sit; non est violenta nec torrens, quamvis effusa sit; non est perspicua sed pura. 'Desideres' inquis 'contra vitia aliquid aspere dici, contra pericula animose, contra fortunam superbe, contra ambitionem contumeliose. Volo luxuriam obiurgari, libidinem traduci, inpotentiam frangi. Sit aliquid oratorie acre, tragice grande, comice exile.' Vis illum adsidere pusillae rei, verbis: ille rerum se magnitudini addixit, eloquentiam velut umbram non hoc agens trahit. [11] Non erunt sine dubio singula circumspecta nec in se collecta nec omne verbum excitabit ac punget, fateor; exibunt multa nec ferient et interdum otiosa praeterlabetur oratio, sed multum erit in omnibus lucis, sed ingens sine taedio spatium. Denique illud praestabit, ut liqueat tibi illum sensisse quae scripsit. Intelleges hoc actum ut tu scires quid illi placeret, non ut ille placeret tibi. Ad profectum omnia tendunt, ad bonam mentem: non quaeritur plausus. [12] Talia esse scripta eius non dubito, etiam si magis reminiscor quam teneo haeretque mihi color eorum non ex recenti conversatione familiariter sed summatim, ut solet ex vetere notitia; cum audirem certe illum, talia mihi videbantur, non solida sed plena, quae adulescentem indolis bonae attollerent et ad imitationem sui evocarent sine desperatione vincendi, quae mihi adhortatio videtur efficacissima. Deterret enim qui imitandi cupiditatem fecit, spem abstulit. Ceterum verbis abundabat, sine commendatione partium singularum in universum magnificus. Vale. Seneca the YoungerThe Latin Library The Classics Page