I HAVE received your letter, read it through
With careful thought, and, to confess the truth,
I deem it timid to a point beyond
What suits an Emperor,—timid in a way
Unsuited to the temper of the time.
You say Avidius hates us; does not stint
His jests and sneers at what we are and do;
Has no respect for the imperial robes;
Says you are an old woman, whose bald talk
You deem profound philosophy, while I
Am merely a debauched and studious fool.
You bear him no ill-will for this, you say,
(My noble Lucius, this is worthy you!)
But then you add you fear he has designs
To do us wrong, and beg me to keep watch,
Lest he, by all his wealth and power, at last
Compass our ruin. But consider this—
If to Avidius Destiny decree
The Empire's purple, all our art is vain!
You know the saying of your ancestor,
Our austere Trajan, “Never was there prince
Who killed his own heir;” no man e'er prevailed
Him to o'erthrow whom the immortal gods
Had marked as his successor: so, as well,
He whom the gods oppose must surely fall,
Not through our act, but by his destiny,
Caught in the inevitable snare of fate.
Again, the traitor or the criminal,
Though by the clearest proof convicted, stands
As 'twere at bay; one weak and friendless man
Against the State's compacted law and might,
And thus moves pity—seeming, as it were,
From that unequal match to suffer wrong.
“Wretched, indeed” (as your grandfather said),
“The fate of princes who make good their charge
Of purposed murder by their martyrdom,
Proving the plot against their life, by death.”
Domitian 'twas, in truth, who spake these words,
Yet rather would I call them Hadrian's,
Since tyrants' sayings, true howe'er they be,
Have not the weight of good and noble men's.
As for Avidius, then, let him work out
His secret course, being, as you say he is,
Austere in discipline, a leader brave,
And one the State cannot afford to lose;
Let him continue there upon the edge
Of Daphnic luxury, near by Antioch,
To rein the army in and hold it firm,
Secure that Nemesis awaits on him,
As on us all, whate'er we are or do:
And for my children's interests, and mine,
If they can only be subserved by wrong,
Perish my children, rather than through wrong
They triumph! If Avidius deserve
Better than they, and if through him the State
Glory and strength superior may gain,
Better he live and win the prize he seeks!
Better they die and yield to him the State!
Please God, that while the imperial robes I wear
No blood be shed for me,—for I would fain
Be called “The Bloodless,” like our Antonine!
And if this man have injured me, and shown
Ingratitude, that meanest of all sins,
At least he cannot rob me of one boon
I hold the greatest given by victory,
That of forgiveness. Ever since the Fates
Placed me upon the throne, two aims have I
Kept fixed before my eyes; and they are these:—
Not to revenge me on my enemies,
And not to be ungrateful to my friends.
With careful thought, and, to confess the truth,
I deem it timid to a point beyond
What suits an Emperor,—timid in a way
Unsuited to the temper of the time.
You say Avidius hates us; does not stint
His jests and sneers at what we are and do;
Has no respect for the imperial robes;
Says you are an old woman, whose bald talk
You deem profound philosophy, while I
Am merely a debauched and studious fool.
You bear him no ill-will for this, you say,
(My noble Lucius, this is worthy you!)
But then you add you fear he has designs
To do us wrong, and beg me to keep watch,
Lest he, by all his wealth and power, at last
Compass our ruin. But consider this—
If to Avidius Destiny decree
The Empire's purple, all our art is vain!
You know the saying of your ancestor,
Our austere Trajan, “Never was there prince
Who killed his own heir;” no man e'er prevailed
Him to o'erthrow whom the immortal gods
Had marked as his successor: so, as well,
He whom the gods oppose must surely fall,
Not through our act, but by his destiny,
Caught in the inevitable snare of fate.
Again, the traitor or the criminal,
Though by the clearest proof convicted, stands
As 'twere at bay; one weak and friendless man
Against the State's compacted law and might,
And thus moves pity—seeming, as it were,
From that unequal match to suffer wrong.
“Wretched, indeed” (as your grandfather said),
“The fate of princes who make good their charge
Of purposed murder by their martyrdom,
Proving the plot against their life, by death.”
Domitian 'twas, in truth, who spake these words,
Yet rather would I call them Hadrian's,
Since tyrants' sayings, true howe'er they be,
Have not the weight of good and noble men's.
As for Avidius, then, let him work out
His secret course, being, as you say he is,
Austere in discipline, a leader brave,
And one the State cannot afford to lose;
Let him continue there upon the edge
Of Daphnic luxury, near by Antioch,
To rein the army in and hold it firm,
Secure that Nemesis awaits on him,
As on us all, whate'er we are or do:
And for my children's interests, and mine,
If they can only be subserved by wrong,
Perish my children, rather than through wrong
They triumph! If Avidius deserve
Better than they, and if through him the State
Glory and strength superior may gain,
Better he live and win the prize he seeks!
Better they die and yield to him the State!
Please God, that while the imperial robes I wear
No blood be shed for me,—for I would fain
Be called “The Bloodless,” like our Antonine!
And if this man have injured me, and shown
Ingratitude, that meanest of all sins,
At least he cannot rob me of one boon
I hold the greatest given by victory,
That of forgiveness. Ever since the Fates
Placed me upon the throne, two aims have I
Kept fixed before my eyes; and they are these:—
Not to revenge me on my enemies,
And not to be ungrateful to my friends.