1It has often happened to me, when pleading, that the centumviral judges, after keeping themselves long within the dignity and gravity of judges, all suddenly rose to their feet, as if conquered and compelled, and applauded; 2often I have brought back from the senate such fame as I had most desired: yet never have I felt greater pleasure than lately from a conversation with Cornelius Tacitus. 2He told me that at the last races a Roman knight had sat beside him. 2After varied and learned conversation this man had asked him: 'Are you from Italy or from the provinces?' 2He had replied: 'You know me, and indeed from your reading.' 3To this the man said: 'Are you Tacitus or Pliny?' 3I cannot express how pleasing it is to me that our names are attributed to literature as if they belonged to literature and not to men, and that each of us is known through these studies even to those to whom he is otherwise unknown.
4Something similar happened a few days ago. 4A distinguished man, Fadius Rufinus, was reclining beside me at dinner, and above him a fellow townsman of his, who had come to the city for the first time that day; 4pointing me out to him, Rufinus said: 'Do you see this man?' 4Then a great deal about my studies; 4and the man said, 'It is Pliny.' 5I will confess the truth: I reap a great reward for my labour. 5If Demosthenes was rightly delighted that an old woman of Attica recognised him thus: 'This is Demosthenes', ought I not to rejoice in the celebrity of my name? 5I do indeed rejoice, and I say that I rejoice.
6For I am not afraid of seeming too boastful when I put forward others' judgement of me, not my own, especially to you, who envy no one's praises and favour mine. 6Farewell.