Epistle V. To Maximus.
by
the Same. [Mr. Henley.]
[_]
On the Death of Fannius.
I Am told, that Caius Fannius is dead; a piece of News that has given me much regret:
In the first Place, because I knew the Man to be a Master of an elegant Taste,
and of the Art of Speaking; and in the next, because I frequently made use of his Judgment:
For he was by Nature penetrating, in Application assiduous, in variety of Knowledge and Affairs,
extremely ready. Besides all this, I am concern'd at the Circumstances of his
Death. When he expir'd, he left a Will, that was made long ago; he omitted those he set the highest Value upon;
and consider'd such Men, as had been most obnoxious to him. But this,
however, may be supported; another Thing is less tolerable, that he has left a beautiful Work behind him unfinish'd.
For though he has taken up with the Affairs of the Bar, yet he wrote a History of the Fate of those,
who had been put to Death, or banish'd by
Nero; and had already perfected three Books,
remarkable for acuteness of Wit, Care, and a just Latin Style; and of a middle Character between the Orator and the Historian.
And he was the more desirous to perfect the rest, as these were the more in Vogue.
But I always look upon the Death of those who are preparing some immortal Work,
as severe and immature. For they who are abandon'd to Pleasure, and live no more than a short Day-light,
are daily undeserving of Life; but they, who think of Posterity, and extend their Memory by their Actions, must at any time die
suddenly, because they will always interrupt something that has been undertaken.
Indeed
Caius Fannius was previously sensible of what happen'd,
long before. As he slept one Night, he dreamt that he lay in his Bed,
in a studying Dress, and that as usual, he had a Book-Case before him;
soon after he imagin'd that
Nero came in, and sate upon the Bed,
took out the first Book he had publish'd about his Misconduct,
and turn'd it over from one end to the other; that he did the same a second and third time,
and then retir'd. He was terrify'd at it, and put this Interpretation upon it,
as if he was to make the same end of his Writing, that he made of Reading;
and this precisely happen'd. When I reflect upon this, I think with Pity,
what Care and Labour he employ'd in vain; I recollect my own Mortality,
and my own Writings: And I doubt not, but you are alarm'd with the same Apprehension for the Works you have in Hand.
Therefore, while Life continues, let us make it our Endeavour, that Death may find as few Undertakings to destroy,
as possible.
Farewell.
