Variae & Works 9 part 4/4

For when a silent man, deliberately keeping quiet, comes to that place, he finds the waters of the welling spring so still that, like a pond, they seem not so much to flow as to stand. But when a rattling cough is let out, or perhaps a louder word resounds, by some unknown force the waters there are at once stirred up and leap forth: you may see the mouth of that whirlpool bubble, gravely roused, so that you would think the chilled water had taken on the boiling heat of a kindled pot. Silent to a silent man, but answering one who speaks with noise and crashing, you would be astonished that it is so suddenly troubled, though no touch agitates it. A novel power, an unheard-of property, that the waters should be moved by the human voice, and, as though they answered when addressed, thus provoked by the speech of men, they murmur I know not what.

You would believe that some animal lay there prostrate, resting in sleep, which, when roused, answered you with a great din. It is indeed read that not a few springs gush forth with various marvels: that some, when drunk, give a changed colour to animals, another makes flocks white, certain ones turn the wood they receive into the hardness of stone. But no reasoning grasps these causes, for what is applied to natural things alone is known to be above human understanding. But to return quickly to the petitioner's complaint: the aforesaid Nymphadius, having had his lodging here, asserts that his horses were driven off by the ambush of country folk. This befits not the discipline of our times, that the delight of such a place should be made hateful by such a loss.

We judge that your alertness should examine this with diligent scrutiny—you who are seen to have gathered authority from our palace and justice from the laws—so that, after the manner of the spring itself, you may appear to avenge the crime that has been committed. Let the thieves be sought out in utter silence, let them be seized quiet in their own homes, until, as soon as the officer shouts, their hearts are troubled, they break out into cries and confound themselves with a fearful muttering. Thus let them judge that its own waters have given them the omens of their punishment. Let there therefore be a fitting penalty upon them, so that the places may be passable: let established discipline invite the zeal of travellers, lest by the excesses of brigands so great a marvel be shunned—a marvel always known to gladden those who seek it out.

As it is the part of the prudent man to wish to know what is unknown, so to disregard what is known is madness, especially at a time when the harmful matter can be brought to the swiftest correction. For by frequent proof we have learned that at the gathering of Lucania which from ancient superstition received the name Leucothea—because there is a water there of exceeding clear brightness—the goods of merchants have often been mangled by the unlawful presumptions of country folk in hostile plunder, so that those who had come most religiously to keep the feast-day of Saint Cyprian, and to adorn the face of civility with their wares, departed shamefully needy and empty-handed.

We have judged that this should be corrected by a simple and easy remedy: that your Worship, at the aforesaid time, together with the landholders and the lessees of the various estates, should by anticipated precaution provide for the peace of those who assemble, lest it find culprits of a savage deed whom punishment must consume. But if any of the country folk, or a man of whatever place, should come for the sake of wicked strife, let him, seized at the very beginning, be straightway subjected to a flogging punishment, and, paraded in disgrace, let him correct his evil designs—he who before was attempting to stir up a hidden crime. For this assembly is both festive with great throngs and exceedingly profitable to the surrounding provinces.

For whatever is choice—whatever industrious Campania sends, or the wealthy Bruttii, or the well-stocked Calabrians, or the well-supplied Apulians, or the province itself can possess—is set out for the adornment of that most beautiful market, so that you would rightly judge so vast an abundance to have been gathered from many regions. For you might see there the broadest fields shine with most beautiful booths, and, suddenly woven from pleasant boughs, momentary houses, and the bustling crowd of peoples singing and rejoicing. There, although you do not behold the labour of walls, you nonetheless see the adornment of a most renowned city. At hand are boys and girls, distinguished by their differing sex and age, whom not captivity but liberty has set up for a price:

these their parents rightly sell, since they themselves profit from that very service. For there is no doubt that slaves can be bettered who are transferred from the toil of the fields to the services of the city. Why should I speak of garments distinguished by countless variety? Why of animals of diverse kinds gleaming and very fat? where all things are set forth at such a valuation that even the most fastidious buyer is enticed. Thus from that commerce no one returns ungrateful, if a praiseworthy discipline orders all. For the place itself too is spread out with the pleasantness of its plains: a certain suburb of the most ancient city of Consilinum, which from the founder of the holy springs received the name Marcellianum.

Here bursts forth a clear and sweet abundance of waters, where, in the manner of a natural cave, a hollow fashioned like a vault pours out liquors so transparent that you would think the basin empty, which you do not doubt to be most full. Here it lies open, translucent right down to the bottom, so that to your gaze you would judge that air rather than liquid appears. The most subtle water rivals a serene day, for whatever takes place in the depths is shown to the eyes with unhindered clarity. There the most joyful fish play in shoals, which come so fearlessly to the hands of those who feed them, as though they knew they were not to be caught: for whoever has presumed to attempt any such thing is soon known to have received the punishment of the divine power. It would be long to describe the memorable things of that spring.

Let us come to that singular gift and holy miracle. For when, on the night of the sacred day, the priest begins to pour forth the prayer of baptism, and from his holy mouth the fountains of his words flow, at once the wave, leaping on high, directs its waters not through their accustomed channels, but lifts them up into height and a heaped mass. The dumb element raises itself of its own accord and, with a kind of solemn devotion, prepares itself for marvels, that the sanctification of the divine Majesty may be displayed. For although the spring itself covers five steps, and possesses them only in tranquillity, it is seen to rise by two others, which it is known never to occupy except at that time.

A great and astounding miracle, that the gliding streams should thus, at human words, either stand or rise, so that you would believe the zeal of hearing was by no means lacking to them. Let this heavenly spring be made venerable by the speech of all: let Lucania too have its own Jordan. That one furnished the example of baptism; this one guards the sacred mystery with yearly devotion. Wherefore both the reverence of the place and the usefulness of the matter ought to give the peoples a most holy peace, since by the judgment of all he must be held most wicked who shall strive to profane the joys of such days. Let these things which we have said be read out to the peoples and set before them, so that, when they are by no means believed to be unavenged, the licence to transgress may not be sought.