Cicero’s Letters to his Friends, Book 6

Translated by Evelyn Shuckburgh

DXXXVII (F VI, I)

TO AULUS MANLIUS TORQUATUS

(AT ATHENS)

ROME (JANUARY) Though¹ the universal upset is such that each man thinks his position the worst possible, and that there is no one who does not wish to be anywhere but where he is, yet I feel no doubt that at the present moment the most miserable place for a good man to be in is Rome. For though wherever any man is, he must have the same feeling and the same pang from the ruin that has overtaken the fortunes both of himself and of the state, yet, after all, one's eyes add to the pain, which force us to see what others only hear, ² and do not allow us to turn our thoughts from our miseries. Therefore, though you must necessarily be pained by the absence of many objects, yet from that particular sorrow, with which I am told that you are specially overpowered--that you are not at Rome--pray free your mind. For though you must feel great uneasiness at being without your family and your surroundings, yet, after all, the objects of your regret are maintaining all their rights. They could not maintain them better, if you were here, nor are they in any special danger. Nor ought you, when thinking of your family, to demand any special favour of fortune for yourself, or to refuse to bear what is common to all. In regard to [p. 187] yourself personally, Torquatus, your duty is to think over everything, but not to take counsel with despair or fear. For it is not the case that the man, who has as yet been harsher to you than your character deserved, has given no signs of softened feeling towards you. But, after all, that person himself, of whom your safety is being asked, is far from having the way to secure his own clear and plain before him. And while the results of all wars are uncertain, I perceive that from the victory of the one side there is no danger for you, seeing that such danger has nothing to do with the general overthrow, while from the victory of the other I feel sure that you yourself have never had any fear. I must therefore conclude that the very thing which I count as a consolation--the common danger to the state--is what is chiefly torturing you. That is an evil so great that, however philosophers may talk, I fear it admits of no real consolation being found, except that which is exactly proportioned to the strength and mettle of each man's mind. For if right thinking and right doing are sufficient to secure a good and happy life, I fear that it is impious to call a man miserable who can support himself by the consciousness of having acted on the best motives. For neither do I consider that we abandoned country and children and property at that time from the hope of the rewards of victory on the contrary, I think we were following a just and sacred duty, due at once to the Republic and our own honour-neither, at the time we did so, were we so mad as to feel certain of victory. Wherefore, if that has happened, of which, when we were entering upon the cause, the possibility was fully before us, we ought not to be crushed in spirit, as though something had happened which we never contemplated as possible. Let us then take the view, which reason and truth alike enjoin, that in this life we should not feel ourselves bound to guarantee anything except to do nothing wrong: and that, since we are free from that imputation, we should bear every misfortune incident to humanity with calmness and good temper. And so my discourse amounts to this, that, though all be lost, virtue should shew that she can after all support herself. But if there is some hope of a public recovery, you certainly ought not to be without your share in it, whatever the constitution of the future is to be. [p. 188] And yet, as I write this, it occurs to me that I am the man whose despair you were wont to blame, and whom you used your influence to rouse from a state of hesitation and anxiety. It was at a time, indeed, when it was not the goodness of our cause, but the wisdom of our policy with which I was dissatisfied. For I saw that, when too late, we were opposing arms which had long before been rendered formidable by ourselves, and I grieved that a constitutional question should be settled by spears and swords, not by consultation and the weight of our influence. Nor, when I said that those things would occur, which actually did do so, was I divining the future. I was only expressing a fear lest what I saw to be possible and likely to be ruinous, if it did occur, should happen; especially as, if I had to promise one way or the other about the result and end of the campaign, what did actually occur would have been the more obvious promise for me to make. For the points in which we had the advantage were not those which appear on the field of battle, while in the use of arms and the vigour of our soldiers we were at a disadvantage. But pray shew the spirit now which you thought that I ought to have shewn then. I write this because on my making all sorts of inquiries about you from your freedman Philargyrus, he told me with feelings, as I thought, of the utmost devotion to you, that at times you were apt to be excessively anxious. You ought not to be so, nor to doubt either that, if any form of constitution is restored, you will have your due place in it, or that, if it is gone for ever, you will be in no worse position than the rest. The present position, indeed, which is one of alarm and suspense for us all, you ought to bear with the greater calm-ness of spirit from the fact that you are living in a city which gave birth to and fostered a systematic rule of life, and that you have with you in Servius Sulpicius one for whom you have always had a singular affection: one who no doubt consoles you by his kindness and wisdom; whose example and advice, if we had followed, we should have remained at peace under Caesar's supremacy, rather than have taken up arms and submitted to a conqueror.

But perhaps I have treated these points at too great a length: the following, which are more important, I will express more briefly. There is no one to whom I owe more [p. 189] than to yourself. Those, to whom I was indebted to an extent of which you are aware, the result of this war has snatched from me. My position at the present moment I fully understand. But since there is no one so utterly prostrate as not to be able, if he gives his whole attention to what he is doing, to accomplish and carry out something, I should wish you to consider as deservedly at the service of yourself and your children, of course all my zeal, but also all my powers of counsel and action.

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¹ Aulus Manlius Torquatus was praetor in B.C. 52, and presided at the trial of Milo. He had supported Cicero at various times of difficulty (de Fin. 2, § 72).

² Cicero had suggested just the reverse to Marcellus, p.184.

DLXXIV (F VI, 2)

TO AULUS MANLIUS TORQUATUS (AT ATHENS)

(FICULEA, 20 APRIL)

I BEG you not to think that forgetfulness of you is the cause of my writing to you less often than I used to do; but either illness-from which however I am now recovering--or absence from the city, which prevents my knowing who is starting to where you are. Wherefore I would have you make up your mind that I always remember you with the most perfect affection, and regard all your interests as of no less concern to me than my own. That your case has experienced more vicissitudes than people either wished or expected is not, believe me, in these bad times a thing to give you anxiety. For it is inevitable that the republic should either be burdened by an unending war, or should at last recover itself by its cessation, or should utterly perish. If arms are to carry the day, you have no need to fear either the party by whom you are being taken back, nor that which you actually assisted; if--when arms are either laid down by a composition or thrown down from sheer weariness--the state ever recovers its breath, you will be permitted to enjoy your position and property. But if universal ruin is to be the result, and the end is to be what that very clear-sighted man Marcus Antonius used long ago to fear when he suspected that all this misfortune was impending, there is this consolation--a wretched one indeed, especially for such a citizen and such a man as yourself, but yet the only one we can have--that no one may make a private grievance of what affects all alike. If, as I am sure you will, you rightly conceive the meaning of these few words--for it was not proper to trust more to an epistle-you will certainly understand even without a letter from me that you have something to hope, nothing under this or any definite form of the constitution to fear. If there is general ruin, as you would not wish, even if you could, to [p. 236] survive the republic, you must bear your fortune, especially one which involves no blame to you. But enough of this. Pray write and tell me how you are and where you intend to stay, that I may know where to write or come.

DXXXVIII (F VI, 3)

TO AULUS MANLIUS TORQUATUS (AT ATHENS)

ROME (JANUARY)

IN my former letter I was somewhat lengthy, more from warmth of affection than because the occasion demanded it. For neither did your virtue require fortifying by me, nor were my own case and position of such a nature as to allow of my encouraging another when in want of every source of encouragement myself. On the present occasion I ought to he briefer. For if there was no need of so many words then, there is no more need of them now, or if there was need of them then, what I said is enough, especially as there has been nothing new to add. For though I am every day told some items of news, which I think are conveyed to you, yet the upshot is the same, as is also the result: a result which I see as clearly in my mind as what I actually see with my eyes; and yet in truth I see nothing that I am not well assured that you see also. For though no one can prophesy the result of a battle, yet the result of a war I can see: and if not that, yet at least this--since one or the other side must win--how victory on the one side or the other will be used. And having a clear grasp of this, what I see convinces me that no evil will occur, if that [p. 190] shall have happened to me, even before, which is held out as the most formidable of all terrors. For to live on the terms on which one would then have to live, is a most miserable thing, while no philosopher has asserted death to be a miserable thing even for a prosperous man. But you are in a city in which the very walls of the houses seem capable of telling you these things, even at greater length and in nobler style. I assure you of this--though the miseries of others supply but a poor consolation--that you are now in no greater danger than anyone else, either of those who went away, ¹ or of those who remained. The one party are now in arms, the other in terror of the conqueror. But this, I repeat, is a poor consolation. There is another, which I hope you use, as I certainly do: I will never, while hive, let any-thing give me pain, so long as I have done nothing wrong: and if I cease to live, I shall cease to have any sensation. But to write this to you is again a case of "an owl to Athens." ² To me both you and your family and all your interests are, and while I live will be, the subject of the greatest concern. Good-bye.

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¹ I.e., from the Pompeian army after Pharsalia.

² Glauch' eis Athênas. See vol. i., p.290; vol. iii., p.73.

DXXXIX (F VI, 4)

TO AULUS MANLIUS TORQUATUS (AT ATHENS)

ROME (JANUARY)

I have no news to give you, and if there is some after all, I know that you are usually informed of it by your family. About the future, however, difficult as it always is to speak, you may yet sometimes get nearer the truth by conjecture, when the matter is of the kind whose issue admits of being foreseen. In the present instance I think that I perceive thus much, that the war will not be a protracted one, though [p. 191] even as to that there are some who think I am wrong. For myself, even as I write this, I believe that something decisive has occurred, not that I know it for certain, but because the conjecture is an easy one. For while all chances in war are open, and the results of all battles are uncertain, yet on this occasion the forces on both sides are so large, and are said to be in such a state of preparation for a pitched battle, that whichever of the two conquers it will be no matter of surprise. It is an opinion that grows daily stronger that even if there is considerable difference in the merits of the causes of the combatants, there will yet be little difference in the way in which they will use their victory. Of the one side we have now had a pretty full experience: of the other there is no one that does not reflect how much reason there is to fear an armed victor inflamed with rage.

On this point, if I appear to increase your anxiety while I ought to have been lightening it by consolation, I confess that I can find no consolation for our common disasters except that one, which after all--if you can avail yourself of it--is the highest and the one to which I have daily greater recourse: namely, that the consciousness of good intentions is the greatest consoler of misfortune, and that there is no serious evil except misconduct. As from this last we are so far removed, that our sentiments have been absolutely unimpeachable, while it is the result of our policy, not the policy itself, which is criticised: and as we have fulfilled all our obligations, let us bear what has happened without excessive grief. But I do not take upon myself, after all, to console you for misfortunes affecting all alike. Rightly to console them requires a greater intelligence, and to bear them requires unique courage. But anyone can easily shew you why you ought not to feel any sorrow peculiar to yourself. For as to Caesar's decision concerning your restoration, though he has been somewhat slower in relieving you than I had thought he would be, I have no doubt whatever. As to the other party, I do not think that you are at a loss to know my sentiments. Finally, there is the pain that you feel at being so long absent from your family. It is distressing, especially considering the character of your sons, than which nothing can be more charming. But, as I said in my last letter, the state of things is such that everyone [p. 192] thinks his own position the most miserable of all, and most dislikes being precisely where he is. For my part, I consider that the most wretched of all are we who are at Rome, not merely because in all misfortunes it is more painful to see than to hear, but also because we are more exposed to all the risks of sudden perils, than if we were out of town. For myself however, who set up to console you, my feelings have become softened, not so much by literature, to which I have always been devoted, as by lapse of time. You remember how keen my sorrow was. In regard to that the first consolation is that I shewed greater foresight than the rest, when I desired to have peace on any terms however inequitable. And although this was from chance, and not from any prophetic powers of mine, yet I take pleasure in this poor reputation for wisdom. Another source of consolation common to us both is that, if I am called upon to end my life, I shall not be torn from a republic such as I should grieve to lose, especially as I shall then be beyond all consciousness. An additional consolation is my age and the fact that my life is now all but over, which both gives me pleasure in reflecting upon its honourably accomplished career, and forbids my fearing any violence at a period to which nature herself has now almost brought me. Lastly, considering what a great man, or rather what great men, fell in that war, it seems shameless to decline to share the same fortune, if circumstances render it necessary. For my part, I regard everything as possible for myself, nor is there any evil too great for me to believe to be hanging over my head. But since there is more evil in fear than in the thing itself which is feared, I cease to indulge in it, especially as that now hangs over me, in which there will not only be no pain, but also the end of all pain. But I have said enough, or rather more than was needed. It is not love of talking, however, but affection for you that makes my letters too long. I was sorry to hear that Servius had left Athens; for I do not doubt that your daily meeting, and the conversation of a man at once most intimate and of the highest character and wisdom have been a great alleviation to you. Pray keep up your spirits, as you ought and are accustomed to do, by your own virtue. For myself, I shall look after everything with zeal and diligence which I may think to be [p. 193] in accordance with your wishes or for the interests of your self and your family. In doing so I shall imitate your goodness to me, I shall never equal your services.

DXXXII (F VI, 5)

TO AULUS CAECINA (IN SICILY)

ROME (JANUARY)

EVERY time I see your son--and that is nearly every day--I promise him my zealous and active support, without any reserve as to labour, prior engagement, or time: but the exertion of my interest or favour with this reservation, "as far as I have the opportunity or power." Your book has been read and is still being read by me with attention, and kept under lock and key with the greatest care. Your prospects and fortunes are of the highest concern to me. They seem to me to grow brighter and less complicated every day: and I can see that many are much interested in them, of whose zeal, 'as well as of his own hopes, I feel certain that your son has written fully to you. But as to those particulars, in which I am reduced to conjecture, I do not take upon myself to profess greater [p. 179] foresight than I am convinced that your own eyes and your own intelligence give you: but all the same, as it may. very well be that your reflexions on those points are somewhat agitated, I think it is incumbent upon me to explain my opinions. It is neither in the nature of things nor the ordinary revolutions of time that a position such as either your own or that of the rest should be protracted, or that so outrageous an injustice should be persistently maintained in so good a cause and in the case of such good citizens. In which matter, in addition to the hope which your own case gives me to a degree beyond the common--I don't mean only from your high position and admirable character, for these are distinctions which you share with others-there are the claims which brilliant genius and eminent virtue make peculiar to yourself. And to these, by Hercules, he in whose power we are allows much weight. Accordingly, you would not have remained even a moment in your present position, had it not been that he thought himself to have been insulted by precisely that accomplishment of yours, in which he takes delight. But this feeling is softening every day, and those who live with him hint to me, that this very opinion which he entertains of your genius will do you a great deal of good with him. Wherefore, in the first place, keep up your spirits and courage: for your birth, education, learning, and character in the world demand that you should do so. In the next place, entertain the most certain hopes for the reasons which I have given you. On my side, indeed, I would have you feel sure that everything I can do is most completely at your service and at that of your sons: for this is no more than our longstanding friendship, and my invariable conduct to my friends, and your many kindnesses to me demand. [p. 180]

CDLXXXVI (F VI, 6)

TO AULUS CAECINA (IN EXILE)

ROME (SEPTEMBER)

I am afraid you may think me remiss in my attentions to you, which, in view of our close union resulting from many mutual services and kindred tastes, ought never to be lacking. In spite of that I fear you do find me wanting in the matter of writing. The fact is, I would have sent you a letter long ago and on frequent occasions, had I not, from expecting day after day to have some better news for you, wished to fill my letter with congratulation rather than with exhortations to courage. As it is, I shall shortly, I hope, have to congratulate you: and so I put off that subject for a letter to another time. But in this letter I think that your courage--which I am told and hope is not at all shaken-ought to be repeatedly braced by the authority of a man, who, if not the wisest in the world, is yet the most devoted [p. 120] to you: and that not with such words as I should use to console one utterly crushed and bereft of all hope of restoration, but as to one of whose rehabilitation I have no more doubt than I remember that you had of mine. For when those men had driven me from the Republic, who thought that it could not fall while I was on my feet, I remember hearing from many visitors from Asia, in which country you then were, that you were emphatic as to my glorious and rapid restoration. If that system, so to speak, of Tuscan augury which you had inherited from your noble and excellent father did not deceive you, neither will our power of divination ¹ deceive me; which I have acquired from the writings and maxims of the greatest savants, and, as you know, by a very diligent study of their teaching, as well as by an extensive experience in managing public business, and from the great vicissitudes of fortune which I have encountered. And this divination I am the more inclined to trust, from the fact that it never once deceived me in the late troubles, in spite of their obscurity and confusion. I would have told you what events I foretold, were I not afraid to be thought to be making up a story after the event. Yet, after all, I have numberless witnesses to the fact that I warned Pompey not to form a union with Caesar, and afterwards not to sever it. By this union I saw that the power of the senate would be broken, by its severance a civil war be provoked. ² And yet I was very intimate with Caesar, and had a very great regard for Pompey, but my advice was [p. 121] at once loyal to Pompey and in the best interests of both alike. My other predictions I pass over; for I would not have Caesar think that I gave Pompey advice, by which, if he had followed it, Caesar himself would have now been a man of illustrious character in the state indeed, and the first man in it, but yet not in possession of the great power he now wields. I gave it as my opinion that he should go to Spain; ³ and if he had done so, there would have been' no civil war at all. That Caesar should be allowed to stand for the consulship in his absence I did not so much contend to be constitutional, as that, since the law had been passed by the people at the instance of Pompey himself when consul, it should be done. The pretext for hostilities was given. What advice or remonstrance did I omit, when urging that any peace, even the most inequitable, should be preferred to the most righteous war? My advice was overruled, not so much by Pompey--for he was affected by it--as by those who, relying on him as a military leader, thought that a victory in that war would be highly conducive to their private interests and personal ambitions. The war was begun without my taking any active part in it; it was forcibly removed from Italy, while I remained there as long as I could. But honour had greater weight with me than [p. 122] fear: I had scruples about failing to support Pompey's safety, when on a certain occasion he had not failed to support mine. Accordingly, overpowered by a feeling of duty, or by what the loyalists would say, or by a regard for my honour-whichever you please-like Amphiaraus in the play, I went deliberately, and fully aware of what I was doing, "to ruin full displayed before my eyes." ⁴ In this war there was not a single disaster that I did not foretell. Therefore, since, after the manner of augurs and astrologers, I too, as a state augur, have by my previous predictions established the credit of my prophetic power and knowledge of divination in your eyes, my prediction will justly claim to be believed. Well, then, the prophecy I now give you does not rest on the flight of a bird nor the note of a bird of good omen on the left-according to the system of our augural college-nor from the normal and audible pattering of the corn of the sacred chickens. I have other signs to note; and if they are not more infallible than those, yet after all they are less obscure or misleading. Now omens as to the future are observed by me in what I may call a two fold method: the one I deduce from Caesar himself, the other from the nature and complexion of the political situation. Caesar's characteristics are these: a disposition naturally placable and clement--as delineated in your brilliant book of "Grievances "--and a great liking also for superior talent, such as your own. Besides this, he is relenting at the expressed wishes of a large number of your friends, which are well-grounded and inspired by affection, not hollow and self-seeking. Under this head the unanimous feeling of Etruria ⁵ will have great influence on him.

Why, then--you may ask--have these things as yet had no effect? Why, because he thinks if he grants you yours, he cannot resist the applications of numerous petitioners with whom to all appearance he has juster grounds for anger. "What hope, then," you will say, "from an angry [p. 123] man?" Why, he knows very well that he will draw deep draughts of praise from the same fountain, from which he has been already--though sparingly-bespattered. ⁶ Lastly, he is a man very acute and farseeing: he knows very well that a man like you--far and away the greatest noble in an important district of Italy, and in the state at large the equal of any one of your generation, however eminent, whether in ability or popularity or reputation among the Roman people-cannot much longer be debarred from taking part in public affairs. ⁷ He will be unwilling that you should, as you would sooner or later, have time to thank for this rather than his favour.

So much for Caesar. Now I will speak of the nature of the actual situation. There is no one so bitterly opposed to the cause, which Pompey undertook with better intentions than provisions, as to venture to call us bad citizens or dishonest men. On this head I am always struck with astonishment at Caesar's sobriety, fairness, and wisdom. He never speaks of Pompey except in the most respectful terms. "But," you will say, "in regard to him as a public man his actions have often been bitter enough." Those were acts of war and victory, not of Caesar. But see with what open arms he has received us! Cassius he has made his legate; ⁸ Brutus governor of Gaul ; ⁹ Sulpicius of Greece ; ¹⁰ Marcellus, ¹¹ with whom he was more angry than with anyone, he has restored with the utmost consideration for his rank. To what, then, does all this tend? The nature of things and of the political situation will not suffer, nor will any Constitutional theory-whether it remain as it is or is changed-permit, first, that the civil and personal position [p. 124] of all should not be alike when the merits of their cases are the same; and, secondly, that good men and good citizens of unblemished character should not return to a state, into which so many have returned after having been condemned of atrocious crimes.

That is my prediction. If I had felt any doubt about it I would not have employed it in preference to a consolation which would have easily enabled me to support a man of spirit. It is this. If you had taken up arms for the Republic--for so you then thought--with the full assurance of victory, you would not deserve special commendation. But if; in view of the uncertainty attaching to all wars, you had taken into consideration the possibility of our being beaten, you ought not, while fully prepared to face success, to be yet utterly unable to endure failure. I would have urged also what a consolation the consciousness of your action, what a delightful distraction in adversity, literature ought to be. I would have recalled to your mind the signal disasters not only of men of old times, but of those of our own day also, whether they were your leaders or your comrades. I would even have named many cases of illustrious foreigners: for the recollection of what I may call a common law and of the conditions of human existence softens grief. I would also have explained the nature of our life here in Rome, how bewildering the disorder, how universal the chaos: for it must needs cause less regret to be absent from a state in disruption, than from one well-ordered. But there is no occasion for anything of this sort. I shall soon see you, as I hope, or rather as I clearly perceive, in enjoyment of your civil rights. Meanwhile, to you in your absence, as also to your son who is here--the express image of your soul and person, and a man of unsurpassable firmness and excellence--I have long ere this both promised and tendered practically my zeal, duty, exertions, and labours: all the more so now that Caesar daily receives me with more open arms, while his intimate friends distinguish me above everyone. Any influence or favour I may gain with him I will employ in your service. Be sure, for your part, to support yourself not only with courage, but also with the brightest hopes. [p. 125]

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¹ By "our divination" Cicero may mean to include the augural science as known to the college of augurs. But though he plays round the subject, we need not suppose that he really thought that he had learnt to predict events thereby. What follows seems rather to point to Milton's "Till old experience do attain To something like prophetic strain," though the two ideas are (perhaps purposely) confused.

² This prediction seems rather slender capital on which to set up business as a prophet. Pompey and Caesar combined for the express purpose of checkmating the senate, and if they quarrelled difficulties would be sure to follow. Besides, he puts quite a different complexion on it elsewhere (Phil. 2.24), representing the remark as an aspiration expressed to Pompey after the war had begun. But "I told you so " is a gratification that few can resist.

³ It seems almost impossible that Cicero should ever have given this advice. Whilst in Cilicia, indeed-when, as we have seen, he got rather behindhand in his knowledge of the inner nature of things--he was strong for Pompey not going to Spain (vol. ii., pp.30, 73). On his return he had an interview with Pompey on the 10th of December (vol. ii., p.223), in which he certainly made no such suggestion. As the days of December went on, and the fatal days of January approached, he all along supposes Pompey's presence in the senate, and himself to be supporting him (vol. ii., pp.226, 229). Nor in a second interview with Pompey, on the 25th of December, does his account admit of the idea of his having expressed such an opinion (vol. ii., p.230); in fact, though Pompey apparently did mention it, Cicero thought it the worst of allthe alternatives (vol. ii., p.232). After about January 7th, he saw Pompey no more till he joined him in Epirus, when such a suggestion could not have been made. He was cognizant, however, of the proposals of Ciesar--sent through Lucius Caesar--one of which was that Pompey should go to Spain, though he characterized them as "utterly absurd" (vol. ii., p.249); still they were accepted--on condition of Caesar withdrawing from Italy--about the 25th of January, and Cicero may then have expressed this opinion, but so did others, only with this impossible condition (vol. ii., pp.253-254).

⁴ The author of the line is not known. Amphiaraus, husband of Eriphyle, sister of Adrastus, was enticed by his wife into joining the expedition of the Seven against Thebes, though he knew he was going to his death. Eriphyle had been bribed by Polynices to persuade her husband. It was a common theme of tragedy.

⁵ The Caecinae were a noble family of Volaterrae in Etruria.

⁶ This is Cicero's polite way of characterizing a book of Caecina's against Caesar, which Suetonius (Iul.75) says was most abusive (criminosissimus). He appears since then to have written some recantation, which he called Querelae.

⁷ Cicero trusts to Caesar wishing, like Napoleon, to have the countenance and support of the nobility.

⁸ After surrendering his fleet to him on his voyage to Alexandria.

⁹ M. Brutus was made governor of Cisalpine Gaul, B.C. 46.

¹⁰ Ser. Sulpicius Rufus (see p. 20). For Caesar's occupation of Greece, see p.35.

¹¹ M. Claudius Marcellus, consul B.C. 51. See p.113.

DXXXI (F VI, 7)

AULUS CAECINA TO CICERO (AT ROME)

SICILY (JANUARY)

FOR my book not having been delivered to you so quickly, forgive my timidity, and pity my position. My son, I am [p. 176] told, was very much alarmed at the book ¹ being put in circulation, and with reason--since it does not matter so much in what spirit it is written, as in what spirit it is taken--for fear lest a stupid thing like that should stand in my light, and that too when I am still suffering for the sins of my pen. In that matter my fate has been a strange one: for whereas a slip of the pen is cured by erasure, and stupidity is punished by loss of reputation, my mistake is corrected by exile: though my greatest crime is having spoken ill of the enemy when engaged in active service. There was no one on our side, I presume, who did not pray for victory for himself; no one who, even when offering sacrifice for something else, did not breathe a wish for Caesar's speedy defeat. If he imagines that not to be the case, he is a very fortunate man. If he does know it, and has no delusion on the subject, why be angry with a man who has written something against his views, when he has pardoned all those who offered every sort of petition to the gods against his safety?

But to return to my subject, the cause of my fear was this. I have written about you, on my honour, sparingly and timidly, not merely checking myself, but almost beating a retreat. Now everyone knows that this style of writing ought not merely to be free, but even vehement and lofty. One is thought to have a free hand in attacking another, yet you must take care not to fall into mere violence: it is not open to one to praise oneself, lest the result should be the vice of egotism: there is no other course than to praise the man, on whom any blame that you may cast is necessarily set down to weakness or jealousy. And I rather think that you will like it all the better, and think it more suited to your present position. For what I could not do in good style, it was in my power first of all not to touch upon, and, as next best, to do so as sparingly as possible. But after all I did check myself: I softened many phrases, cut out many, and a very large number I did not write down at all. Then, as in a ladder, if you were to remove some rounds, cut out others, leave some loosely fastened, you would be contriving the means of a fall, not preparing a way of ascent, just so [p. 177] with a writer's genius: if it is at once hampered and frustrated by so many disadvantages, what can it produce worth listening to or likely to satisfy? When, indeed, I come to mention Caesar himself, I tremble in every limb, not from fear of his punishing, but of his criticising me. For I do not know Caesar thoroughly. What do you think of a courage that talks thus to itself? "He will approve of this: that expression is open to suspicion." "What if I change it to this? But I fear that will be worse." Well, suppose I am praising some one: "Shan't I offend him ?" Or when I am criticising some one adversely: "What if it is against his wish ?" "He punishes the pen of a man engaged in a campaign: what will he do to that of a man conquered and not yet restored ?"

You yourself add to my alarm, because in your Orator you shield yourself under the name of Brutus, ² and try to make him a party to your apology. When the universal "patron" does this, what ought I to do--an old client of yours, and now everyone's client? Amidst such misgivings therefore created by fear, and on the rack of such blind suspicion, when most of what one writes has to be adapted to what one imagines are the feelings of another, not to one's own judgment, I feel how difficult it is to come off successfully, though you have not found the same difficulty, because your supreme and surpassing genius has armed you for every eventuality. Nevertheless, I told my son to read the book to you, and then to take it away, or only to give it to you on condition that you would promise to correct it, that is, if you would give it a totally new complexion.

About my journey to Asia, though the necessity for my making it was very urgent, I have obeyed your commands. Why should I urge you to exert yourself for me? You are fully aware that the time has come when my case must be decided. There is no occasion, my dear Cicero, for you to wait for my son. He is a young man: he cannot from his warmth of feeling, or his youth, or his timidity, think of all necessary measures. The whole business must rest on you: you is all my hope. Your acuteness enables you to hit [p. 178] upon the measures which Caesar likes, and which win his favour. Everything must originate with you, and be brought to the desired conclusion by you. You have great influence with Caesar himself, very great with all his friends. If you will convince yourself of this one thing, that your duty is not merely to do what you are asked--though that is a great and important thing--but that the whole burden rests on you, you will carry it through: unless--which I don't believe--my misfortunes make me too inconsiderate, or my friendship too bold, in placing this burden upon you. But your lifelong habits suggest an excuse for both: for from your habit of exerting yourself for your friends, your intimates have come not so much to hope for that favour at your hands, as to demand it as a right. As for my book, which my son will give you, I beg that you will not let it out of your hands, or that you will so correct it as to prevent it doing me any harm.

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¹ For Caecina's book against Caesar, see p 123. Suetonius (Caes. 75) calls it "most abusive" (criminosissimus).

² In the Orator (§ 35) Cicero says that he wrote his Cato at the instigation of Brutus.

DXXV (F VI, 8)

TO AULUS CAECINA (IN SICILY)

ROME, DECEMBER

LARGUS, who is devoted to you, having told me that the 1st of January was the limit fixed for you, and having my-self noticed that any ordinance made by Balbus and Oppius in Caesar's absence was usually ratified by him, I urged upon them with warmth to grant me as a favour that you should be permitted to remain in Sicily as long as we wished. Though they have been in the habit of freely promising me anything which was not calculated to hurt the feelings of that party, or even of refusing it and giving a reason for their refusal, to this request or rather demand of mine they gave no immediate answer. However, they came to see me again the same day: they granted me permission for you to remain in Sicily as long as you chose: they said that they would answer for your not prejudicing your interests at all by doing so. Now, since you know what you have licence to do, I think you ought to know what my Opinion is. After this business had been settled I received a letter from you asking my advice as to whether you should settle in Sicily, or go to look after the remains of your [p. 168] business in Asia. This deliberation on your part did not appear to me to tally with the words of Largus. For in his conversation with me he had implied that you were forbidden to stay in Sicily: you, on the other hand, are deliberating, as though the permission had been given. But, for my part, whether the former or the latter is the case, I am for your staying in Sicily. The nearness of the locality is of advantage, either for securing your recall, because of the frequency of letters and messengers, or for a rapid return, when either that point, as I hope it will be, is gained or some other plan arranged. Therefore I am strongly in favour of your staying. I will be very earnest in recommending you to T. Furfanius Postumus, who is a friend of mine, and to his legates, who are also friends, when they come here: at present they are all at Mutina. They are excellent men, fond of men like you, and on intimate terms with me. Whatever occurs to me that I think likely to be to your advantage, I will do without being asked: if there is anything I don't know, at the first hint of it I will surpass the zeal of everybody. Although I shall speak to Furfanius personally about you in such a way as to render a letter from me to him quite unnecessary for you, yet, as your relations have decided that you should have a letter of mine to give him, I have complied with their wish. I append a copy of the letter.

DXXVI (F VI, 9)

TO T. FURFANIUS (PROCONSUL IN SICILY)

ROME

No intimacy or friendship could be closer than that which I have always had with Aulus Caecina. For I was constantly in the society of that illustrious and gallant man his father: and my affection for this man also from his childhood has been such as to make the intimacy between us close as it is possible to have with anyone-partly [p. 169] because he seemed to me to give great promise of supreme excellence, honesty, and eloquence; and partly because he lived with me in the most complete sympathy, not only from our mutual services of friendship, but also from a community of literary tastes. I need not write at greater length. How bound I am to protect his safety and property by every means in my power you see. It only remains, since I know from many circumstances what your sentiments are as to the fortune of the loyalists and the disasters to the Republic, that I should beg nothing of you except that to the goodwill, which you are sure spontaneously to entertain towards him, there may be added a supplement proportionate to the value which I know you have for me. You cannot oblige me more than by doing this. Good-bye.

CDLXXXIX (F VI, 10, §§ 4-6)

TO TREBIANUS (IN EXILE)

ROME (SEPTEMBER)

I would have sent you a letter before, if I had been able to hit upon the best sort to write: for at such a crisis the duty of friends is either to console or to make promises. I did not offer consolation, because I was told by many of the fortitude and wisdom with which you were bearing the hardship of the present situation, and how thoroughly you were consoled by the consciousness of your actions and policy. If that is the case, you are reaping a rich reward of your excellent studies, in which I know that you have ever been engaged, and I exhort you again and again to continue this line of conduct. At the same time, see here! You are a man deeply versed in what is recorded not only of particular examples, but in ancient history generally, while I am not quite ignorant of them either; but, though less deeply read than I could wish, I have had an even greater experience than I could have desired in actual affairs and practical business. Well, I pledge my word to you, that this indignation and this injurious treatment will not last long. For, in the first place, the man himself who has the chief power appears to me to be daily inclining insensibly towards just views and natural equity; and, in the second place, the merits of our cause itself are of such a kind, that It must necessarily revive and be renewed along with the Republic, which cannot possibly be kept down for ever. In fact, every day something is done in a spirit of greater Clemency and liberality than we feared would be the case. And since such things depend upon shifting circumstances, [p. 130] often minute, I will look out for every chance, and will not pass over any opportunity of helping and relieving you. Accordingly, that second style of letter which I mentioned will daily, I hope, become easier to adopt-enabling me to make promises also. That I should prefer doing practically rather than in mere words. I would have you be convinced of this--that you have more friends than others who are and have been in the same misfortune as yourself, as far at least as I have been able to ascertain; and that I yield to no one of them. Be sure you keep up a brave and lofty spirit. That depends on yourself alone: what depends on fortune will be guided by circumstances and provided for by prudent measures on our part.

CDXC (F VI, 10, §§ 1-3)

TO TREBIANUS (IN EXILE)

ROME (SEPTEMBER)

Of the value I feel and always have felt for you, and of the value which I know you feel for me, I am myself the witness. Two things cause me as much anxiety as my misfortunes always caused you. The first is your policy, or perhaps I should say your misfortune, in remaining too long in the prosecution of a civil war; the second, that the recovery of your property and position is slower than is fair and than I could have wished. Accordingly, I have opened my whole heart to Postumulenus, Sestius, and (most frequently) to our friend Atticus, and recently to your freedman Theudas, and have repeated to them separately on several occasions, that by whatever means I could I desired to do all that you and your sons could wish. And I would have you write and tell your family that, as far at least as it lies in my power, they should regard my efforts, advice, property, and fidelity as at their service for all purposes. If my influence and favour were as great as they ought to be in a state which I have served so well, you too would now be what you [p. 131] were, worthy in the highest degree of any rank, and at least easily first of your own ordo. But, since at the same time and in the same cause we have both of us lost our position, the things mentioned above, which are still mine to promise, and those also which I seem to myself to be partially retaining as reliques, so to speak, of my old rank-these I hereby promise you. For Caesar himself; as I have been able to gather by many circumstances, is not estranged from me, and nearly all his most intimate friends, bound to me as it happens by important services rendered by me in the past, are constant in their attentions and visits to me. Accordingly, if I find any opening for mooting the subject of your fortunes, that is, of your restoration to civil rights, on which everything depends--and I am daily more induced to hope for it from what these men say--I will do so personally and exert myself to the uttermost. It is not necessary to enter into details: I tender you my zeal and goodwill without reserve. But it is of great importance to me that all your friends should--as they may by a letter from you--know this, that everything which is Cicero's is at the service of Trebianus. To the same effect is it that they should believe that there is nothing too difficult for me to undertake with pleasure for you.

DCXIX (F VI, 11)

TO TREBIANUS (IN EXILE)

(ROME, JUNE)

Hitherto I have felt nothing more than a natural affection for Dolabella: I was under no obligation to him--for it never chanced to be necessary--and he was in my debt for my having stood by him in his hours of danger. ¹ Now, however, I have become bound to him by so strong an obligation--for having previously in regard to your property, and on the present occasion in the matter of your recall, gratified me to the fullest possible degree--that I can owe no one more than I do him. In regard to this matter, while I warmly congratulate you, I wish you to congratulate rather than thank me. The latter I do not in the least desire, the former you will be able to do with truth. For the rest, since your high character and worth have secured [p. 280] your return to your family, you will be acting in a manner worthy of your wisdom and magnanimity if you forget what you have lost, and think of what you have recovered. You will be living with your family; you will be living with us; you have gained more in personal consideration than you have lost in property: though of course your recovered position would have been a greater source of pleasure to you, if there had been any constitution left. Our friend Vestorius tells me in a letter that you express very great gratitude to me. This avowal on your part is, of course, very gratifying to me, and I have nothing to say against your making it, whether to others, or by heaven! to our friend Siro : ² for what one does one likes to have approved most by the wisest men. I desire to see you at the earliest opportunity.

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¹ Cicero had twice defended Dolabella (vol. ii., pp. 160-161).

² An Epicurean philosopher (de Fin. 2.119).

CDLXXXVIII (F VI, 12)

TO T. AMPIUS BALBUS (RECALLED FROM EXILE)

ROME (SEPTEMBER)

I congratulate you, my dear Balbus, and with sincerity. Yet I am not so foolish as to wish you to indulge in a passing and groundless exultation, and then to be suddenly depressed and rendered so prostrate, that nothing could afterwards raise your spirits or restore your equanimity. I have pleaded your cause with greater openness than was quite consistent with my present position. For the unfortunate fact itself of my influence having been weakened [p. 127] was overcome by my affection for you and my unbroken love towards you, which has always been most carefully cultivated by yourself. Everything that was promised in regard to your return and restoration has been fulfilled, and is now secure and fully ratified. I have seen it with my own eyes, have had full information, have been personally a witness to it. For very opportunely I have all Caesar's intimate friends so closely knit to me by association and kindly feeling, that next to him they look upon me as first. Pansa, Hirtius, Balbus, Oppius, Matius, all make it clear in this matter that they have a unique regard for me. But if I had had to do it by my own exertions, I should not have regretted having made the attempt in whatever way the exigencies of the situation demanded. But I have not, in fact, made any special concessions to the situation: my old intimacy with all these men comes in here, with whom I have never ceased urging your claims. But Pansa, who is exceedingly zealous on your behalf and anxious to oblige me, I have regarded as my mainstay in this business, as being influential with Caesar no less from his character than from personal predilection. Tillius Cimber, again, has quite satisfied me. Yet, after all, the petitions which have weight with Caesar are not those which proceed from personal considerations, but those which are dictated by duty: and, as that was the case with Cimber, he had more influence than he could have had in anyone else's behalf. The passport has not been issued at once, owing to the amazing rascality of certain persons, who would have been bitterly annoyed at a pardon being granted to you, whom that party call the "bugle of the civil war"--and a good many observations to the same effect are made by them, as though they were not positively glad of that war having occurred. Wherefore it seemed best to carry on the business with Some secrecy, and by no means to let it get abroad that your affair was settled. But it will be so very shortly, and I have no doubt that by the time you read this letter the matter will have been completed. The fact is that Pansa, a man whose character and word can be trusted, not only assured me of it, but also undertook that he would very quickly get the passport. Nevertheless, I resolved that this account should be sent you, because from Eppuleia's report [p. 128] and Ampia's ¹ tears I gathered that you were less confident than your letter would suggest Moreover, they thought that in their absence from your side you would be in much more serious anxiety. Wherefore I thought it of very great importance, for the sake of alleviating your pain and sorrow, that you should have stated for certain what was in fact certain.

You know that hitherto it has been my habit to write to you rather in the tone of one consoling a man of courage and wisdom, than as holding out any sure hope of restoration beyond that which, in my opinion, was to be expected from the Republic itself as soon as the present excitement died down. Remember your writings, in which you always shewed me a spirit at once great and firmly prepared to endure whatever might happen. Nor was I surprised at that, since I remembered that you had been engaged in public affairs from your earliest youth, and that your terms of office had coincided with the most dangerous crises in the safety and fortunes of the community, ² and that you entered on this very war not solely with the idea of being in prosperity if victorious, but also, if it so happened, of bearing it philosophically if beaten. In the next place, since you devote your time to recording the deeds of brave men, ³ you ought to think yourself bound to abstain from doing anything to prevent your shewing yourself exactly like those whom you commend. But this is a style of talk better suited to the position from which you have now escaped: for the present merely prepare yourself to endure with us the state of things here. If I could find any remedy for that, I would impart the same to you.. But our one refuge is philosophy and literature, to which we have always been devoted. In the time of our prosperity these seemed only to be an [p. 129] enjoyment, now they are our salvation also. But, to return to what I said at first, I have no doubt of everything having been accomplished in the matter of your restoration and return.

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¹ The wife and daughter of T. Ampius.

² T. Ampius Balbus was a tribune in B.C. 63, and praetor in B.C. 59 the first the Catilinarian year, the second the year of Caesar's consulship, which Cicero regards as fatal to the constitution. He had always been an ardent Pompeian, having proposed special honours to Pompey in B.C. 63 for his Eastern campaign. For his activity at the beginning of the Civil War, see vol. ii., p.271. He was not, it seems, at the battle of Pharsalia, but was in Asia, where he tried to seize the treasures of the temple at Ephesus (Caes. B.C. 3.105).

³ This work is quoted apparently by Suetonius, Iul. 77.

CDLXXXVII (F VI, 13)

TO Q. LIGARIUS (IN EXILE)

ROME (SEPTEMBER)

Although in your present circumstances I was bound, in view of our friendship, to write you some word either of consolation or support, yet up to this time I had omitted doing so, because I did not think myself able by mere words either to soften or remove your grief. When, however, I began to entertain a strong hope that it would not be long before we had you here in full enjoyment of your civil rights, I could not refrain from declaring my opinion and wishes to you. To begin with, then, I will say this, of which I have a clear knowledge and full perception--that Caesar will not be very obdurate to you. For circumstances, as well as the lapse of time and public opinion, and--as it seems to me--even his own natural disposition, daily render him more indulgent. And that I not only perceive in the case of others, but I am also told it in regard to yourself by his most intimate friends, to whom, ever since the news from Africa first arrived, I have never ceased in conjunction with your brothers to make representations. Thanks indeed to their virtue and piety and their unique affection for you, their constant and unremitting care for your safety are having such good effect, that I think there is now no indulgence that Caesar himself will not grant you. But if this comes to pass somewhat less quickly than we wish, the reason is that, owing to the multiplicity of his business, interviews with him have been somewhat difficult to obtain. At the same time, being unusually angered at the resistance in Africa, he seems resolved to keep those in suspense somewhat longer, by whom he considers himself to have been involved in the worry of a more protracted struggle. But even this, I understand, he daily regards in a more forgiving and placable spirit. Wherefore, believe me, [p. 126] and remember that I said so to you, that you will not be much longer in your distressing position. Having told you my opinion, I will shew what my wishes are in regard to you by deeds rather than by words. If I were as powerful as I ought to be in a Republic, to which my services have been such as you estimate them, you certainly would not have now been in your present disadvantageous position: for the same cause has ruined my influence which has brought your safety into danger. But nevertheless, whatever the shadow of my old position, whatever the remains of my popularity shall be able to effect, all my zeal, advice, efforts, and fidelity shall be ever at the service of your most excellent brothers. Be sure, on your part, to keep the brave spirit which you have always kept. First, for the reasons which I have mentioned: and, secondly, because your wishes and sentiments about the Republic have ever been such as not only to warrant a hope of prosperity now, but even, if everything goes wrong, to make it after all incumbent on you, from a consciousness of your actions and policy, to bear whatever happens with the greatest resolution and spirit.

CDXCVI (F VI, 14)

TO Q. LIGARIUS (IN EXILE)

ROME, 26 NOVEMBER

I assure you¹ that I am employing every effort and all my care and zeal in securing your recall² . For, to say nothing of the fact that I have always been deeply attached to you, the signal loyalty and love of your brothers, who have the same place as yourself in the warmest feelings of my heart, suffer me to neglect no task or opportunity of displaying my fidelity and zeal towards you. But what I am doing and have done for you, I prefer your learning from their letters rather than from mine. But what my hopes are, or what I feel confident of, and consider as certain in regard to your recall, that I wish you to be informed of by myself. For if there is anyone who is nervous in matters of moment and danger, and who is always more inclined to fear a reverse than to hope for success, I am that man, and if it is a fault, I confess that I am not without it. However, on the fifth day before the Kalends of the first intercalary month, I went at the request of your brothers to wait on Caesar at his morning reception, and endured all the humiliation and bore of securing an entrée and an inter-view with him. When your brothers had thrown themselves at his feet, and I had said what the merits of the case and your position demanded, I went away with a [p. 142] conviction--gathered not only from the tone of Caesar's reply, which was gentle and courteous, but also from his eyes and expression, and many other signs besides, which it was easier to observe than it is to write--that I need have no doubt about your recall. Wherefore be sure you keep up your spirit and courage, and as you bore the stormiest times with philosophy, meet calmer weather with cheerfulness. However, I will attend to your business as though it were one of the most difficult possible: and on your behalf, as I have already done, I will with all the pleasure in life present my supplications not only to Caesar, but also to all his friends, whom I have learnt to be warmly attached to myself. Good-bye.

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¹ Q Ligarius, who had as the legatus of Varus in Africa, B.C. 49, excluded the senatorial governor Tubero and his son from landing there, had afterwards fought against Caesar at Thapsus, and had been exiled. His brothers tried to secure his recall, but the younger Tubero brought a charge of majestas against him, on which Cicero defended him. See letter CCCCLXXXVII.

² November September before Caesar's rectification of the calendar. Besides the usual intercalary month of twenty-three days inserted at the end of February, two months of sixty-seven days in all were intercalated between the last day of November and the first of December. This year thus consisted of four hundred and forty-five days.

DCXCVI (F VI, 15)

TO L. MINUCIUS BASILUS (?ON THE CAPITOL)

ROME (15 MARCH, B.C. 44)

I congratulate you¹ ! For myself I am rejoiced! I love you: I watch over your interests: I desire to be loved by you and to be informed of how you are, and what is being done.

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¹ One of the assassins, who struck so wildly that he wounded Rubrius (Nic. Dam. C. 24). He was murdered early in the next year by his own slaves in retaliation for a barbarous punishment inflicted on some of them (Appian, B.C. 3.98). The note is no doubt written immediately after the assassination; though there is no direct evidence of it, nor do we know anything of Cicero's relations with Basilus to explain why he is selected for congratulation out of all the conspirators. He is only once mentioned before (vol. iii., p.13), where it appears that he had been inclined to befriend Cicero after Pharsalia, but Cicero only commissions Atticus to send him a formal letter in his name.

DCXCVIII (F VI, 16)

AULUS POMPEIUS BITHYNICUS TO CICERO (AT ROME)

SICILY (MARCH)

If I had not personally many valid causes for friendship with you¹ , I would have referred to the origin of that friendship which began with our fathers. But that is, I think, only to be done by those who have not kept up a paternal friendship by any good offices themselves. I shall be content therefore with our own personal friendship, in reliance on which I beg you to protect me in my absence, with the assurance that no kindness on your part will ever fade from my mind. Good-bye. [p. 4]

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¹ Praetor of Sicily, and a partisan of Caesar. He seems to think that Caesar's death may put him in a dangerous position, in which Cicero may be of use to bim. See Cicero's answer, Letter DCCVIII., p.14.

DCCVIII (F VI, 17)

TO AULUS POMPEIUS BITHYNICUS (IN SICILY)

CAMPANIA (APRIL)

For every reason I am anxious for the constitution to be at length put on a sound footing; but, believe me, an additional motive for desiring it still more is supplied me by the promise conveyed in your letter. You say in it that, if that is ever the case, you will pass your time in my society. Such a wish on your part is highly gratifying to me, and is entirely in accord with our close friendship and with the opinion your illustrious father entertained of me. For believe me when I say that others, who have had at times or still have ¹ the opportunity, may be more closely united to you by the amount of their services than I am, but that in friendship no one can be so. Accordingly, I am gratified both by your recollection of our intimacy and by your wish to increase it. ² [p. 15]

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¹ Reading aut valent.

² For the letter to which this is answer, see DCXCVIII., p. 3.

DXXXIII (F VI, 18)

TO QUINTUS LEPTA

ROME (JANUARY)

Immediately on the receipt of the letter from your servant Seleucus I sent a note to Balbus asking him what the provision of the law was. He answered that auctioneers in actual business were excluded from being municipal counsellors, retired auctioneers were not excluded. ¹ Wherefore certain friends of yours and mine need not be alarmed, for it would have been intolerable, while those who were now acting as haruspices were put on the roll of the senate at Rome, all who had ever been auctioneers should be excluded from becoming counsellors in the municipal towns.

There is no news from Spain. However, it is ascertained to be true that Pompey has a great army: for Caesar has himself sent me a copy of a despatch from Paciaecus, in which the number was reckoned as eleven legions. Messalla has also written to Quintus Salassus to say that his brother Publius Curtius has been put to death by Pompey's order in the presence of the army, for having, as he alleged, made a compact with certain Spaniards, that if Pompey entered a particular town to get corn, they should arrest him and take him to Caesar. As to your business in regard to your being a guarantee for Pompey, when your fellow guarantor Galba ² [p. 181] --a man generally very careful in money matters-comes back to town, I will at once consult with him to see whether anything can be done, as he seems inclined to have confidence in me.

I am much delighted that you approve so highly of my Orator. ³ My own view of it is that I have put into that book all the critical power I possessed in the art of speaking. If the book is such as you say that you think it to be, then I too am somewhat. If not, then I do not decline to allow the same deduction to be made from my reputation for critical judgment as is to be made from the book. I am desirous that our dear Lepta ⁴ should take pleasure in such writings. Though his age is not yet ripe for them, yet it is not unprofitable that his ears should ring with the sound of such language.

I am kept at Rome in any case by Tullia's confinement; but when she gets as well again as I can wish, I am still detained till I can get the first instalment of the dowry ⁵ out of Dolabella's agents. Besides, by Hercules, I am not so much of a traveller as I used to be. My building and my leisure satisfy me entirely. My town house is now equal to any one of my villas: my leisure is more complete than the loneliest spot in the world could supply. So I am not hindered even in my literary employments, in which I am plunged without interruption. Wherefore I think that I shall see you here before you see me there. Let our dearest Lepta learn his Hesiod by heart, and have ever on his lips: On virtue's threshold god sets sweat and toil. ⁶ [p. 182]

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¹ In the lex Iulia Municipalis, passed this year, qui praeconium designationem libitinamve faciet, i.e., "auctioneers and undertakers," are excluded from any magistracy, or from being senator or decurio in a colonia, municipium, or praeftctura (Bruns, Fontes Juris Romani, p. 106). Cicero's question seems to imply that the law was not actually passed, as he would have been able to see for himself that qui faciet would not exclude those who had followed these occupations in the past. He has to apply to Caesar's agent for information about it. Auctioneers were disliked--as brokers--because they had to do with confiscated property, as with ruined estates generally. See 2 Phil. 64, vox acerbissima praeconis.

² Servius Sulpicius Galba, of whom we shall hear again. He was great-grandfather of the Emperor Galba, who, it is interesting to note, maintained his ancestor's "carefulness" in money.

³ Written the previous year.

⁴ Son of the recipient of this letter.

⁵ To be repaid by Dolabella after his divorce from Tullia.

⁶ Hesiod, WD 289: tês d' aretês hidrôta theoi proparoithen ethêkan.

DCXLV (F VI, 19)

TO QUINTUS LEPTA (AT ROME)

ASTURA (ABOUT THE END OF JULY)

I am glad Macula has done his duty. His Falernian villa always seemed to me suitable for a place of call, if only it is enough roofed in to receive our retinue. In other respects I don't otherwise than like the situation. But I shall not on that account desert your Petrinian villa, ¹ for both the house and the picturesqueness of its situation make it suitable for residence rather than for a temporary lodging. As to some official management of these "royal" exhibitions, ² I have spoken to Oppius; for I have not seen Balbus since you left. He has such a bad fit of the gout that he declines visits. On the whole you would, in my opinion, be certainly acting more wisely if you did not undertake it; for your object ³ in incurring all that labour you will in no wise attain. For the number of his intimate entourage is so great, that it is more likely that some one of them should drop off than that there should be an opening for anyone new, especially for one who has nothing to offer but his active service, in which Caesar will consider himself--if indeed he knows anything about it--to have conferred a favour rather than received one. However, we should look out for something, but something which may give you some distinction; otherwise I think that you not only ought not to seek for it, but should even avoid it. For myself, I think I shall pro-long my stay at Astura until Caesar's return, whenever that may be. Good-bye. [p. 313]

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¹ Near Mount Petrinum, close to Sinuessa.

² The games Caesar meant to give upon his triumph. Lepta wished to take the contract for the supply of wine. He had been Cicero's praefectus fabrum in Cilicia (vol. ii., p. 118).

³ To secure Caesar's favour.

DCXLII (F VI, 20)

TO C. TORANIUS (IN CORCYRA)

TUSCULUM (JULY)

Three days ago I delivered a letter for you to the servants of Gnaeus Plancius. I shall therefore be briefer, and as I tried to console you before, on the present occasion I shall offer you some advice. I think your wisest course is to wait where you are until you can ascertain what you ought to do. For, over and above the danger of a long voyage in winter and along a coast very ill-furnished with harbours, which you will thus have avoided, there is this point also of no small importance--that you can start at a moment's notice from where you are as soon as you get any certain intelligence. There is besides no reason for your being all agog to present yourself to them on their way home. ¹ Several other fears occur to me which I have imparted to our friend Cilo.

To cut a long story short: in your present unfortunate position you could be in no more convenient spot from which to transfer yourself with the greatest facility and despatch whithersoever it shall be necessary for you to go. Thus, if Caesar gets home up to time, you will be at hand. But if--for many accidents may happen-something either stops or delays him, you will be in a place to get full information. This I am strongly of opinion is your better course. For the future, as I have repeatedly impressed on you by letter, I would have you convince yourself that in regard to your position you have nothing to fear beyond the calamity common to the whole state. And though that is [p. 310] exceedingly serious, yet we have lived in such a way and are at such a time of life, that we ought to bear with Courage whatever happens to us without fault on our part. Here in Rome all your family are in good health, and with the most perfect loyalty regret your absence, and retain their affection and respect for you., Mind you take care of your health and do not move from where you are without full consideration.

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¹ The idea of Toranius apparently was to go somewhere to meet Caesar on his way from Spain. The "voyage without harbours" best suits the east coast of Italy, and it has been supposed that he meant to go to Ravenna, and thence cross the continent and meet Caesar somewhere in Gaul. As a matter of fact, Caesar did not come home that way.

DLXXII (F VI, 21)

TO C. TORANIUS (IN CORCYRA)

(ROME? MARCH ?)

Although at the moment of my writing this letter,¹ the end of this most disastrous war appears to be approaching, and [p. 232] already some decisive blow to have been struck, yet I daily mention that you were the one man in that immense army who agreed with me and I with you, and that we two alone saw what terrible evil was involved in that war. For when all hope of peace was shut out, victory itself was likely to be calamitous in its results, since it meant death if you were on the losing, and slavery if on the winning, side. Accordingly I, whom at the time those brave and wise men the Domitii and Lentuli declared to be frightened--and I was so without doubt, for I feared that what actually happened would occur--am now in my turn afraid of nothing, and am prepared for anything that may happen. So long as any precaution seemed possible, I was grieved at its being neglected. Now, however, when all is ruined, when no good can be done by wise policy, the only plan seems to be to bear with resignation whatever occurs: especially as death ends all, and my conscience tells me that, as long as I was able to do so, I consulted for the dignity of the republic and, when that was lost, determined to save its existence. ² I have written thus much, not with the object of talking about myself, but that you, who have been most closely united with me in sentiment and purpose, might entertain the same thoughts: for it is a great consolation to remember, even when there has been a disaster, that your presentiments were after all right and true. And I only hope we may eventually enjoy some form of constitution, and may live to compare the anxieties which we endured at the time when we were looked upon as timid, because we said that what has actually happened would do so. For your own fortunes I assure you that you have nothing to fear beyond the destruction affecting the republic in general; and of me I would have you think as of one who, to the best of his ability, will ever be ready with the utmost zeal to support your safety and that of your children. Good-bye. [p. 233]

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¹ There is nothing to shew where this letter was written, and only the allusion to the expectation of a decisive blow in Spain to put the time as late as March. Yet Cicero had begun speaking of expected news from Spain ever since January, and the absence of a reference to Tullia's death is an argument--though not quite decisive--of an earlier date. It does not much matter, however, as it represents Cicero's abiding view of the political situation, and is somewhat a relief in the rather monotonous lamentations for Tullia and plans for her memorial. C. Toranius was aedile with Octavius, father of Augustus, and one of the tutores of Augustus himself. He perished in the proscription of B.C. 43, betrayed by his son. Perhaps Augustus acquiesced in it because he had found him an unfaithful tutor. See Suet. Aug. 27; App. B.C. 4, 12, 18; Valer. Max. 9, II, 5; Nic. Damasc. Vit. Aug. 2.

² Reading voluisse with the MSS. The noluisse adopted by some appears to me to misrepresent what Cicero always maintains, that his joining Pompey was right and his duty to the constitution, yet that his abandoning the Pompeians after Pharsalia was necessary for the safety of the state. He did not refuse to maintain his own safety.