DOI Page / Citation link:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.18096#0207
Africa under Antoninus Pius 143
or emperors. In the early part of this century, Monsignor Mai,
librarian of the Vatican, had the good fortune to discover some
of the lost correspondence on palimpsests stored in the Ambrosian
Library, and after patient labour succeeded in deciphering them.
The first edition was published in Milan in 1815, followed by
others in 1823 and 1832, containing additional correspondence.
Since then a critical edition, embracing all the discovered docu-
ments, was issued at Leipzig in 1867 by M. S. A. Naber. The
letters comprised in this correspondence have no claim to literary
merit, nor can they be regarded as compositions of a high order.
And yet they have exceptional interest. No one can read those
genial homely lines without feeling touched by the expressions
of love and sympathy which knit together two such kindred
spirits as Marcus Aurelius and his tutor, Cornelius Fronto. We
get a glimpse of family life in the imperial circle, and a sketch
of the sunny boyhood of a sedate and philosophic ruler. In
nearly all the letters there is exaggeration of expression, and
constant use of superlative epithets, which sound to us unneces-
sary and unfamiliar in these more prosaic days. But this was
an age of exaggerated phraseology, pardonable as indicating in
a measure the joyousness of a people who lived in the brightest
epoch of Roman history. Dedicatory inscriptions and votive
memorials of the time bear testimony to a free employment of
high-sounding adjectives. When a municipium was raised to
the rank of colonia, the title of splendidissima expressed the dis-
tinction conferred upon its citizens. When a parent lost a wife
or daughter, carissima, piissima, dulcissima, were the epithets
frequently used ; the memory of students who had been cut off
in their youth was preserved in such expressive words as diligen-
tissimus or rarissimus ; and a citizen of renown amongst his
fellows bore the title of obsequentissimus or hofiestissimus, some-
times both. Such being the custom of the time, we read with-
out surprise the conclusion of a letter from M. Aurelius, the
prince (at that time about twenty years of age), to his dear
master, Fronto.1 ' Farewell, most eloquent, most learned,
most dear, most sweet, most preferred preceptor, most desired
friend.' A subsequent letter concludes thus : ' Farewell, my
dearest master. My mother salutes you. I am so wearied that
1 The following letters are taken from a selection of correspondence translated and
edited by M. J. McQuige, Rome, 1824.
or emperors. In the early part of this century, Monsignor Mai,
librarian of the Vatican, had the good fortune to discover some
of the lost correspondence on palimpsests stored in the Ambrosian
Library, and after patient labour succeeded in deciphering them.
The first edition was published in Milan in 1815, followed by
others in 1823 and 1832, containing additional correspondence.
Since then a critical edition, embracing all the discovered docu-
ments, was issued at Leipzig in 1867 by M. S. A. Naber. The
letters comprised in this correspondence have no claim to literary
merit, nor can they be regarded as compositions of a high order.
And yet they have exceptional interest. No one can read those
genial homely lines without feeling touched by the expressions
of love and sympathy which knit together two such kindred
spirits as Marcus Aurelius and his tutor, Cornelius Fronto. We
get a glimpse of family life in the imperial circle, and a sketch
of the sunny boyhood of a sedate and philosophic ruler. In
nearly all the letters there is exaggeration of expression, and
constant use of superlative epithets, which sound to us unneces-
sary and unfamiliar in these more prosaic days. But this was
an age of exaggerated phraseology, pardonable as indicating in
a measure the joyousness of a people who lived in the brightest
epoch of Roman history. Dedicatory inscriptions and votive
memorials of the time bear testimony to a free employment of
high-sounding adjectives. When a municipium was raised to
the rank of colonia, the title of splendidissima expressed the dis-
tinction conferred upon its citizens. When a parent lost a wife
or daughter, carissima, piissima, dulcissima, were the epithets
frequently used ; the memory of students who had been cut off
in their youth was preserved in such expressive words as diligen-
tissimus or rarissimus ; and a citizen of renown amongst his
fellows bore the title of obsequentissimus or hofiestissimus, some-
times both. Such being the custom of the time, we read with-
out surprise the conclusion of a letter from M. Aurelius, the
prince (at that time about twenty years of age), to his dear
master, Fronto.1 ' Farewell, most eloquent, most learned,
most dear, most sweet, most preferred preceptor, most desired
friend.' A subsequent letter concludes thus : ' Farewell, my
dearest master. My mother salutes you. I am so wearied that
1 The following letters are taken from a selection of correspondence translated and
edited by M. J. McQuige, Rome, 1824.