Marcus Cornelius Fronto→Marcus Aurelius|c. 147 AD|Marcus Cornelius Fronto|From Rome (career hub)|To Rome (career hub)|AI-assisted
Fronto to Caesar.
1. Good gods, how stricken I was when I read the opening of your letter! For it was written in such a way that I suspected it meant some danger to your own health. Then, when you went on to reveal that the danger which at the start of your note I had taken to be yours was in fact your daughter Faustina's, how altered my alarm became! And not merely altered, but somehow, I cannot quite say how, even a little eased. You may well say: "Did my daughter's danger seem a lighter thing to you than my own? Could it seem so to you, who declare that Faustina is to you what clear daylight is, what a festal day, what a hope close at hand, what a prayer granted, what an unmixed joy, what a glory noble and unimpaired?" For my part, I know what came over me as I read your letter; but by what principle it came about I do not know. I do not know, I say, why I was more stricken at your danger than at your daughter's, unless perhaps, though the two be equal, those things nevertheless seem graver which strike our ears first.
2. What in the end the reason for this may be, you will more easily know, since concerning the nature and feelings of men you know something fuller and have learned something better. As for me, I was modestly trained by my teacher and parent Athenodotus to grasp aptly in my mind, and to apply, certain examples and images of things, which he called eikones [Greek for "images" or "likenesses"]; and I think I have found this image to explain why my transferred fear seemed lighter to me: that the same thing tends to happen to men carrying a heavy load on the shoulder, when they have shifted that load from the right shoulder to the left, that although nothing has been taken from the weight, nonetheless the shifting of the load seems to be a relief as well.
3. Now, since in the last part of your letter, in which you announced that Faustina was already doing somewhat better, you have driven off from me all fear and anxiety entirely, it seems no unsuitable time to chat with you a little more freely and indulgently about my love for you; for to those relieved of great fear and alarm it is generally permitted to play a bit and to talk nonsense. How greatly I cherish you I perceive no less from weighty and serious proofs than from a great many trifling ones too. What these trifles are, and of what kind, I shall point out.
4. Whenever I see you in my dreams, "bound fast," as the poet says, "by gentle and peaceful sleep," there is never a time but that I embrace and kiss you. Then, according to the matter of each dream, I either weep abundantly or am carried away with some joy and pleasure. This is one proof of my love, taken from the Annals [the epic of Ennius], a poetic one, and indeed a drowsy one.
5. Take another, this one quarrelsome now and contentious. Sometimes I have railed against you in your absence, before a very few of my most intimate friends, in rather harsh words: once upon a time I did this when you came forth into the company of men more grave-faced than was fitting, or when you kept reading books, whether in the theatre or at a banquet (nor was I then abstaining either from theatres or as yet from banquets); on such occasions, then, I would call you a hard and unseasonable man, and sometimes even, when stirred by anger, a tiresome one. But if anyone else disparaged you with that same abuse while I listened, I could not hear it with composure. Thus it was easier for me to speak so myself than to endure others saying anything unfavorable about you; just as I would more easily strike my own daughter Cratia myself than see her struck by another.
6. I shall add a third of my trifles. You know how in all the money-changers' little tables, in stalls, shops, porches, vestibules, windows, everywhere, in every place, your likenesses are set out publicly, most of them indeed badly painted and modeled or carved in a coarse, indeed muddy, Minerva ["a crude Minerva" was a proverbial Roman phrase for clumsy, unskilled workmanship]; yet meanwhile your likeness, however unlike, never once met my eyes on a journey without shaking from my mouth a thrown kiss and a fond salute.
7. Now, to make an end of trifles and turn to the serious: this letter of yours was among the first things to give me proof of how greatly I cherish you, since I was more disturbed at your danger than at your daughter's, although in other respects I would wish you, indeed, to survive for my sake, but your daughter to survive even for yours, as is right. But take care, you, that you do not turn informer or act as witness before your daughter, as though I really cherished you more than her. For there is a danger that your daughter, upset by this matter, being as she is a serious and old-fashioned woman, may, when I ask for her hands and little feet to kiss, draw them away the more angrily on that account, or hold them out more grudgingly; whose little hands, good gods, and those plump little feet I shall then kiss more gladly than your royal neck and your upright, witty face.
145–147 A.D. to Caesar. 1. Good heavens! how shocked I was on reading the beginning of your letter! It was written in such a way that I thought some danger to your health was meant. Then, when the danger, which at the beginning of your note I had taken to be yours, was shewn to be your daughter Faustina's, how transformed was my apprehension. Yet not merely transformed, but in some subtle way a little relieved. You may say, Did my daughter's danger seem of less account to you than mine? Could it so seem to you, who protest that "Faustina is to you as a limpid light, as a gala day, as a near and dear hope, as a wish fulfilled, as an unalloyed delight, as a glory noble and assured"? I know, indeed, what came into my mind on reading your letter, but why it came to be so I do not know: I do not know, I say, why I was more shocked at your danger than at your daughter's, unless, perchance, though things be equally bad, yet those seem worse which are the first to fall on our ears. What is, in fact, the cause of this you are more likely to know, for about the nature and feelings of men your knowledge is somewhat wider than mine, and you have learnt your lesson better. Tolerably well trained as I was by my master and parent Athenodotus in the nice apprehension by the mind and application of illustrations and, as it were, similes of things, which he called εἰκόνας , I think I have hit upon the following simile of this kind, to explain the fact that the transference of my fear seemed an alleviation of it—that much the same thing happens to those who, carrying a heavy weight on their shoulder, transfer it from the right shoulder to the left, so that, though the burden remains as it was, yet the transference of the pressure seems even a relief. 2. Now, since you have quite dispelled all my fear and anxiety by the last part of your letter, in which you announced that Faustina was now somewhat better, it seems the very time for a little easy and unconstrained chat with you on my love for you; for those who are freed from a great fear and apprehension are generally allowed to indulge in a little playfulness and frivolity. I feel how dearly I love you, as much from weighty and serious proofs as also from many trifles. What these trifles are, and of what nature, I will point out. 3. Whenever "with soft slumber's chains around me," as the poet says, I see you in my dreams, there is never a time but I embrace and kiss you: then, according to the tenor of each dream, I either weep copiously or am transported with some great joy and pleasure. This is one proof of my love, taken from the Annals , a poetical and certainly a dreamy one. Listen to another, a quarrelsome and contentious one this time. I have occasionally inveighed against you behind your back in somewhat strong terms before a very few of my most intimate friends. Time was I did this, when you went about in public gatherings with too serious a face, as when you used to read books either in the theatre or at a banquet—nor was I then refraining from theatres, nor as yet from banquets—on such occasions, then, I would call you an austere and unreasonable, even at times, stung by anger, a disagreeable sort of person. But if anyone else found fault with you in my hearing with similar detraction, I could not listen to him with any patience. So it was easier for me to say this of you myself than to suffer others to speak any ill of you: just as I could more easily strike my daughter Gratia myself than see her struck by another. 4. I will add the third of my trifles. You know how in all money-changer's bureaus, booths, bookstalls, eaves, porches, windows, anywhere and everywhere there are likenesses of you exposed to view, badly enough painted most of them to be sure, and modelled or carved in a plain, not to say sorry, style of art, yet at the same time your likeness, however much a caricature, never when I go out meets my eyes without making me part my lips for a smile and dream of you. 5. Now to call a truce to my trifles and to return to seriousness; this letter of yours served in no small degree to shew the depth of my love for you, since I was more shocked at your danger than your daughter's, whereas, in other respects, I should wish you, indeed, to survive for my sake, but your daughter also for yours, as is right. But hark you, see that you do not turn informer or appear as a witness before your daughter, to make her think that I love you more than her; for there is a danger of your daughter being put out in consequence, as she is a serious and old-fashioned lady, and when I ask for her hands and feet to kiss, of her drawing them away from pique at this, or tendering them grudgingly: whose tiny hands and plump little feet I shall then kiss, by heaven, with more zest than your royal neck and your honest and merry lips.
ad M. Caesarem 4.12 [65 Hout; 1.202 Haines]
Fronto Caesari.
1 Ut ego, di boni, consternatus sum lecto initio epistulae tuae! Quod ita scriptum fuit, ut tuum aliquod valetudinis periculum significari suspicarer. Postquam deinde illud periculum quod quasi tuum principio litterarum tuarum acceperam filiae tuae Faustinae fuisse aperuisti, quantum mihi permutatus est pavor! Nec permutatus modo, verum etiam nescio quo pacto nonnihil sublevatus. Dicas licet: “Leviusne tibi visum est filiae meae periculum quam meum? Tibine ita visum qui praefers Faustinam id tibi esse quod lucem serenam, quod diem festum, quod spem propinquam, quod votum impetratum, quod gaudium integrum, quod laudem nobilem nobilem atque incolumem?” Equidem ego, quid mihi legenti litteras tuas subvenerit, scio; qua vero id ratione evenerit nescio; nescio, inquam, cur magis ad tuum quam ad tuae filiae periculum consternatus sim, nisi forte, tametsi paria sint, graviora tamen videntur, quae ad aures prius accidunt. 2 Quae denique hujusce rei ratio tu facilius scias, qui de natura et sensibus hominum scis amplius aliquid meliusque didicisti. Ego, qui a meo magistro et parente Athenodoto ad exempla et imagines quasdam rerum, quas ille εἰκόνας appellabat, apte animo comprehendundas adcommodandasque mediocriter institutus sum, hanc hujusce rei imaginem repperisse videor, cur meus translatus metus levior sit mihi visus: Simile solere evenire onus grave umero gestantibus cum illud onus in sinistrum ab dextro umero transtulere, quamquam nihil de pondere deminutum sit, tamen ut oneris translatio videatur etiam et relevatio. 3 Nunc quoniam postrema parte epistulae tuae qua meliuscule jam valere Faustinam nuntiasti omnem mihi prosus metum ac sollicitudinem depulisti, non alienum tempus videtur de meo adversus te amore remissius aliquid tecum et liberalius fabulandi; nam ferme metu magno et pavore relevatis conceditur ludere aliquid atque ineptire. Ego quanto opere te diligam non minus de gravibus et seriis experimentis quam plerisque etiam frivolis sentio. Quae aut cujusmodi sint haec frivola indicabo.
4 Si quando te “somno leni”, ut poeta ait, “placidoque revinctus” video in somnis, numquam est quin amplectar et exosculer. Tum pro argumento cujusque somni aut fleo ubertim aut exulto laetitia aliqua et voluptate. Hoc unum ex Annalibus sumptum amoris mei argumentum poeticum et sane somniculosum. 5 Accipe aliud, rixatorium jam hoc et jurgiosum. Nonnumquam ego te coram paucissimis ac familiarissimis meis gravioribus verbis absentem insectatus sum: Olim hoc cum tristior, quam par era,t in coetum hominum progrederere vel cum in theatro tu libros vel in convivio lectitabas (nec ego dum tum theatris necdum conviviis abstinebam), tum igitur ego te durum et intempestivum hominem, odiosum etiam nonnumquam ira percitus appellabam. Quodsi quis alius eodem te convicio audiente me detrectaret, aequo animo audire non poteram. Ita mihi facilius erat ipsum loqui quam alios de te sequius quid dicere perpeti; ita ut Cratiam meam filiam facilius ipse percusserim, quam ab alio percuti viderim. 6 Tertium de meis frivoleis addam. Scis, ut in omnibus argentariis mensulis perguleis taberneis protecteis vestibulis fenestris usquequaque, ubique imagines vestrae sint volgo propositae, male illae quidem pictae pleraeque et crassa, lutea immo Minerva fictae scalptaeve; cum interim numquam tua imago tam dissimilis ad oculos meos in itinere accidit, ut non ex ore meo excusserit jactum osculei et savium.
7 Nunc ut frivolis finem faciam et convertar ad serium, hae litterae tuae cum primis indicio mihi fuerunt, quanto opere te diligam, cum magis perturbatus sum ad tuum quam ad filiae tuae periculum: Cum alioqui te quidem mihi, filiam vero tuam etiam tibi, ut par est, superstitem cupiam. Sed heus tu videbis, ne delator existas neve indicio pareas apud filiam, quasi vero ego te quam illam magis diligam. Nam periculum est, ne ea re filia tua commota, ut est gravis et prisca femina, poscenti mihi manus et plantas ad saviandum ea causa iratior subtrahat aut gravatius porrigat; cujus ego, dei boni, manus parvolas plantasque illas pinguiculas tum libentius exosculabor, quam tuas cervices regias tuumque os probum et facetum.
◆
Fronto to Caesar.
1. Good gods, how stricken I was when I read the opening of your letter! For it was written in such a way that I suspected it meant some danger to your own health. Then, when you went on to reveal that the danger which at the start of your note I had taken to be yours was in fact your daughter Faustina's, how altered my alarm became! And not merely altered, but somehow, I cannot quite say how, even a little eased. You may well say: "Did my daughter's danger seem a lighter thing to you than my own? Could it seem so to you, who declare that Faustina is to you what clear daylight is, what a festal day, what a hope close at hand, what a prayer granted, what an unmixed joy, what a glory noble and unimpaired?" For my part, I know what came over me as I read your letter; but by what principle it came about I do not know. I do not know, I say, why I was more stricken at your danger than at your daughter's, unless perhaps, though the two be equal, those things nevertheless seem graver which strike our ears first.
2. What in the end the reason for this may be, you will more easily know, since concerning the nature and feelings of men you know something fuller and have learned something better. As for me, I was modestly trained by my teacher and parent Athenodotus to grasp aptly in my mind, and to apply, certain examples and images of things, which he called eikones [Greek for "images" or "likenesses"]; and I think I have found this image to explain why my transferred fear seemed lighter to me: that the same thing tends to happen to men carrying a heavy load on the shoulder, when they have shifted that load from the right shoulder to the left, that although nothing has been taken from the weight, nonetheless the shifting of the load seems to be a relief as well.
3. Now, since in the last part of your letter, in which you announced that Faustina was already doing somewhat better, you have driven off from me all fear and anxiety entirely, it seems no unsuitable time to chat with you a little more freely and indulgently about my love for you; for to those relieved of great fear and alarm it is generally permitted to play a bit and to talk nonsense. How greatly I cherish you I perceive no less from weighty and serious proofs than from a great many trifling ones too. What these trifles are, and of what kind, I shall point out.
4. Whenever I see you in my dreams, "bound fast," as the poet says, "by gentle and peaceful sleep," there is never a time but that I embrace and kiss you. Then, according to the matter of each dream, I either weep abundantly or am carried away with some joy and pleasure. This is one proof of my love, taken from the Annals [the epic of Ennius], a poetic one, and indeed a drowsy one.
5. Take another, this one quarrelsome now and contentious. Sometimes I have railed against you in your absence, before a very few of my most intimate friends, in rather harsh words: once upon a time I did this when you came forth into the company of men more grave-faced than was fitting, or when you kept reading books, whether in the theatre or at a banquet (nor was I then abstaining either from theatres or as yet from banquets); on such occasions, then, I would call you a hard and unseasonable man, and sometimes even, when stirred by anger, a tiresome one. But if anyone else disparaged you with that same abuse while I listened, I could not hear it with composure. Thus it was easier for me to speak so myself than to endure others saying anything unfavorable about you; just as I would more easily strike my own daughter Cratia myself than see her struck by another.
6. I shall add a third of my trifles. You know how in all the money-changers' little tables, in stalls, shops, porches, vestibules, windows, everywhere, in every place, your likenesses are set out publicly, most of them indeed badly painted and modeled or carved in a coarse, indeed muddy, Minerva ["a crude Minerva" was a proverbial Roman phrase for clumsy, unskilled workmanship]; yet meanwhile your likeness, however unlike, never once met my eyes on a journey without shaking from my mouth a thrown kiss and a fond salute.
7. Now, to make an end of trifles and turn to the serious: this letter of yours was among the first things to give me proof of how greatly I cherish you, since I was more disturbed at your danger than at your daughter's, although in other respects I would wish you, indeed, to survive for my sake, but your daughter to survive even for yours, as is right. But take care, you, that you do not turn informer or act as witness before your daughter, as though I really cherished you more than her. For there is a danger that your daughter, upset by this matter, being as she is a serious and old-fashioned woman, may, when I ask for her hands and little feet to kiss, draw them away the more angrily on that account, or hold them out more grudgingly; whose little hands, good gods, and those plump little feet I shall then kiss more gladly than your royal neck and your upright, witty face.
AI-assisted translation - This translation was produced with AI assistance and has not been peer-reviewed. See the 19th-century translation or original Latin/Greek below for scholarly use.
Latin / Greek Original
ad M. Caesarem 4.12 [65 Hout; 1.202 Haines] Fronto Caesari. 1 Ut ego, di boni, consternatus sum lecto initio epistulae tuae! Quod ita scriptum fuit, ut tuum aliquod valetudinis periculum significari suspicarer. Postquam deinde illud periculum quod quasi tuum principio litterarum tuarum acceperam filiae tuae Faustinae fuisse aperuisti, quantum mihi permutatus est pavor! Nec permutatus modo, verum etiam nescio quo pacto nonnihil sublevatus. Dicas licet: “Leviusne tibi visum est filiae meae periculum quam meum? Tibine ita visum qui praefers Faustinam id tibi esse quod lucem serenam, quod diem festum, quod spem propinquam, quod votum impetratum, quod gaudium integrum, quod laudem nobilem nobilem atque incolumem?” Equidem ego, quid mihi legenti litteras tuas subvenerit, scio; qua vero id ratione evenerit nescio; nescio, inquam, cur magis ad tuum quam ad tuae filiae periculum consternatus sim, nisi forte, tametsi paria sint, graviora tamen videntur, quae ad aures prius accidunt. 2 Quae denique hujusce rei ratio tu facilius scias, qui de natura et sensibus hominum scis amplius aliquid meliusque didicisti. Ego, qui a meo magistro et parente Athenodoto ad exempla et imagines quasdam rerum, quas ille εἰκόνας appellabat, apte animo comprehendundas adcommodandasque mediocriter institutus sum, hanc hujusce rei imaginem repperisse videor, cur meus translatus metus levior sit mihi visus: Simile solere evenire onus grave umero gestantibus cum illud onus in sinistrum ab dextro umero transtulere, quamquam nihil de pondere deminutum sit, tamen ut oneris translatio videatur etiam et relevatio. 3 Nunc quoniam postrema parte epistulae tuae qua meliuscule jam valere Faustinam nuntiasti omnem mihi prosus metum ac sollicitudinem depulisti, non alienum tempus videtur de meo adversus te amore remissius aliquid tecum et liberalius fabulandi; nam ferme metu magno et pavore relevatis conceditur ludere aliquid atque ineptire. Ego quanto opere te diligam non minus de gravibus et seriis experimentis quam plerisque etiam frivolis sentio. Quae aut cujusmodi sint haec frivola indicabo. 4 Si quando te “somno leni”, ut poeta ait, “placidoque revinctus” video in somnis, numquam est quin amplectar et exosculer. Tum pro argumento cujusque somni aut fleo ubertim aut exulto laetitia aliqua et voluptate. Hoc unum ex Annalibus sumptum amoris mei argumentum poeticum et sane somniculosum. 5 Accipe aliud, rixatorium jam hoc et jurgiosum. Nonnumquam ego te coram paucissimis ac familiarissimis meis gravioribus verbis absentem insectatus sum: Olim hoc cum tristior, quam par era,t in coetum hominum progrederere vel cum in theatro tu libros vel in convivio lectitabas (nec ego dum tum theatris necdum conviviis abstinebam), tum igitur ego te durum et intempestivum hominem, odiosum etiam nonnumquam ira percitus appellabam. Quodsi quis alius eodem te convicio audiente me detrectaret, aequo animo audire non poteram. Ita mihi facilius erat ipsum loqui quam alios de te sequius quid dicere perpeti; ita ut Cratiam meam filiam facilius ipse percusserim, quam ab alio percuti viderim. 6 Tertium de meis frivoleis addam. Scis, ut in omnibus argentariis mensulis perguleis taberneis protecteis vestibulis fenestris usquequaque, ubique imagines vestrae sint volgo propositae, male illae quidem pictae pleraeque et crassa, lutea immo Minerva fictae scalptaeve; cum interim numquam tua imago tam dissimilis ad oculos meos in itinere accidit, ut non ex ore meo excusserit jactum osculei et savium. 7 Nunc ut frivolis finem faciam et convertar ad serium, hae litterae tuae cum primis indicio mihi fuerunt, quanto opere te diligam, cum magis perturbatus sum ad tuum quam ad filiae tuae periculum: Cum alioqui te quidem mihi, filiam vero tuam etiam tibi, ut par est, superstitem cupiam. Sed heus tu videbis, ne delator existas neve indicio pareas apud filiam, quasi vero ego te quam illam magis diligam. Nam periculum est, ne ea re filia tua commota, ut est gravis et prisca femina, poscenti mihi manus et plantas ad saviandum ea causa iratior subtrahat aut gravatius porrigat; cujus ego, dei boni, manus parvolas plantasque illas pinguiculas tum libentius exosculabor, quam tuas cervices regias tuumque os probum et facetum.