PETRONIUS to VINICIUS:
"I send to thee from Antium, by a trusty slave, this letter, to which, though thy
hand is more accustomed to the sword and the javelin than the pen, I think that
thou wilt answer through the same messenger without needless delay. I left thee
on a good trail, and full of hope; hence I trust that thou hast either satisfied thy
pleasant desires in the embraces of Lygia, or wilt satisfy them before the real
wintry wind from the summits of Soracte shall blow on the Campania. Oh, my
Vinicius! may thy preceptress be the golden goddess of Cyprus; be thou, on thy
part, the preceptor of that Lygian Aurora, who is fleeing before the sun of love.
And remember always that marble, though most precious, is nothing of itself, and
acquires real value only when the sculptor's hand turns it into a masterpiece. Be
thou such a sculptor, carissime! To love is not sufficient; one must know how to
love; one must know how to teach love. Though the plebs, too, and even
animals, experience pleasure, a genuine man differs from them in this especially,
that he makes love in some way a noble art, and, admiring it, knows all its divine
value, makes it present in his mind, thus satisfying not his body~ merely, but his
soul. More than once, when I think here of the emptiness, the uncertainty, the
dreariness of life, it occurs to me that perhaps thou hast chosen better, and that
not Caesar's court, but war and love, are the only objects for which it is worth
while to be born and to live.
"Thou wert fortunate in war, be fortunate also in love; and if thou art curious as to
what men are doing at the court of Caesar, I will inform thee from time to time.
We are living here at Antium, and nursing our heavenly voice; we continue to
cherish the same hatred of Rome, and think of betaking ourselves to Bai~ for the
winter, to appear in public at Naples, whose inhabitants, being Greeks, will
appreciate us better than that wolf brood on the banks of the Tiber. People will
hasten thither from Bait, from Pompeii, Puteoli, Cumae, and Stabia; neither
applause nor crowns will be lacking, and that will be an encouragement for the
proposed expedition to Achaea.
"But the memory of the infant Augusta? Yes! we are bewailing her yet. We are
singing hymns of our own composition, so wonderful that the sirens have been
hiding from envy in Amphitrite's deepest caves. But the dolphins would listen to
us, were they not prevented by the sound of the sea. Our suffering is not allayed
yet; hence we will exhibit it to the world in every form which sculpture can
employ, and observe carefully if we are beautiful in our suffering and if people
recognize this beauty. Oh, my dear! we shall die buffoons and comedians!
"All the Augustians are here, male and female, not counting ten thousand
servants, and five hundred she asses, in whose milk Poppae bathes. At times
even it is cheerful here. Calvia Crispinilla is growing old. It is said that she has
begged Poppza to let her take the bath immediately after herself. Lucan slapped
Nigidia on the face, because he suspected her of relations with a gladiator.
Sporus lost his wife at dice to Senecio. Torquatus Silanus has offered me for
Eunice four chestnut horses, which this year will win the prize beyond doubt. I
